[Alumni Guest Post] Living In and Through Tragedy

From Ben Barer's (Fellows 2011-12) blog:

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This post also appeared on State of Formation.

It has been a tough week to be in Boston.  It is almost as hard to add anything to all that has been written about the tragedy, confusion, and sadness that the week brought, to Boston and to the world as it looked on.  Two seemingly contradictory themes stood out for me, first in my experience (however indirect) of the events of the week, and then in the reflections on those events that spoke to me most.  These themes are silence and community.

Silence, because no words were helpful in the immediate aftermath of the bombing, and all too often words were harmful, as Continue reading

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As the ghosts fade away

This is a followup to my Erev Yom HaZikaron post

Thank you, my friends, for coming out, for keeping my glass full, for helping me through the day. Thank you for standing by me, for holding me up, for comforting me.

I missed you, my smiling angels, forever young and beautiful. I missed your smiles and your laughs, your frowns and tears, every single detail. Words can not express how grateful I am for each and every one of you and for the sacrifice you made. I am sorry I failed you, and I am sorry that I have not joined you yet.

All around me, people transition from dark to light, from mourning to celebration, from Remembrance to Independence. Yet all I see, all I can see, is you, each one of you outshining those around me, brighter than the fireworks in the night sky. Continue reading

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In Pain, but Numb.

From my blog:
Photo of Israeli traffic on a major road stopping for 2 minutes for Yom Hashoah

Photo of Israeli traffic on a major road stopping for 2 minutes for Yom Hashoah

Monday was my second Yom HaShoah in Israel. I was standing in the middle of the partition in the road on Rivkah and Pierre Koenig to get a good view of the people stopping their cars and getting out to pay their respects to the dead when the wail of the memorial siren sounded. Another woman stood with me, her phone out for video taping the streets during the two minutes that all of Israel stops on its tracks, and hopefully, takes the moment to remember what the world has lost. Last year, I was standing in a similar place, quietly battling an inner turmoil that comes with the day, and had been carrying around an ache that had settled from my throat to my chest, like I needed to let out a good cry, when I witnessed the unified mourning of a country at a standstill, even if only for a few moments. This year though, something happened that deeply disturbed me.

During the siren, a single car, a worker’s vehicle, came careening down the road, as if the driver not only refused to stop for those two minutes, but was driving in such a way that indicated that he wanted the rest of us who were standing and acknowledging the siren to know, that he was in no way with us on this. The woman with the camera on the partition stepped out into the road in front of the car to get him to stop, which he was forced to do, and at that point, he was caught at the red light. She shoved the camera close to his smug face through his open window, where he proceeded to Continue reading

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Dr. Micah Goodman: “What the Israeli elections teach us about Israeli society”

mgJust a couple weeks ago, Dr. Micah Goodman of the Ein Prat Academy visited us at Pardes to address the student body at shiur clali.

His insights into Israeli society were stimulating and refreshing. His analysis, based on the election results, that Israeli society is moving towards Jewish pluralism and openness was inspiring and very much complemented what I have been studying in my Modern Jewish Thought class. In that class, we have explored the tension between the particular and universal aspects of Judaism. Micah pointed out that as more secular Israelis learn Torah, Continue reading

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If Only…

On Saturday, I returned to the Kotel to daven at the minyan that I’d happened upon the previous Shabbat. Once again, the group was friendly, and one of the participants noted that I had arrived on time, which he encouraged me to do again.

On my way through the Old City to minyan, I found myself cheerfully greeting others with a “Shabbat Shalom,” feeling myself in good spirits. I reflected upon my mood as I walked, and realized that I was looking forward to praying on Shabbat in the open air with the friendly minyan that I’d discovered there. Continue reading

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“Aftermath”

I sit on a hill, overlooking Gaza Strip, so near yet so far. It seems almost peaceful. No planes in the air, no fires, no pillars of smoke. Just the sound of vehicles on the highway below. If I didn’t know better, I’d think I was looking at another Israeli town. You’d think there was no conflict, no ongoing war, no recent operation. Just peace and quiet.

I pass through Sderot, and it’s even more absurd. With a few minor and old exceptions, everything’s been cleared and patched up. You wouldn’t know by looking that this town has been bombarded for over a decade.

And I’m back on a tiyul, back where it started last time. So much time has passed in the last 9 weeks. I’m back and I’m as lost and as out of place as ever.

So I do what I do best: I push myself, add challenges, drive myself harder, carry more weight, more bags, punish myself. And it works, for a bit. Until the late night conversations start, the drinking, the chain smoking. Anything and everything to distract myself.

It’s beautiful, amazing, majestic, and it is no longer mine. The once familiar trails have become foreign, a burden, a source of worry. The people that in such a short time had become family are now kept at arm’s length, for their sake as much as my own.

It’s never over for me, for my kind. Things change: politics, borders, conflict locations. But for us, peace will never come.

Because long after the world has forgotten, we continue to live with the memories, in the aftermath of something that was always bigger than us, yet exclusively ours…

 

 

This is the last of the series of pieces written during and after Pillar of Defense… Hopefully I’ll have more positive things coming soon… I’d like to thank the entire Pardes community for all the love and support over the last couple of months, thank you for being there, for not letting me sink or give up!!!

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[Alumni Guest Post] Picking Our Battles

Posted by Ben Barer (Fellows '12):

When you stop to consider the problems plaguing our world (now, as in any other time in history), it can be daunting to the point of being immobilizing. How can I possibly choose, based on such imperfect knowledge, where to most effectively apply myself, and, even if I do, how can I know that I will make any difference — all the while struggling to make ends meet and taking on the stresses of many other people?

I think a large part of the answer to the first question — what cause to take on — is a matter of reformulation. You do not choose a cause so much as the cause chooses you. It is naive to hope that you can choose the cause that ‘needs the most help’ in the world today, and then PRESTO you find the energy to devote yourself to that cause night and day, for decades. We were all born and raised with different skills, predilections, and goals. One of the toughest challenges for me is accepting that I can only be effective at a cause that calls to me before seeing it on a headline.

This was the struggle I had after reading a recent piece in Ha’aretz about the growing phenomenon of Orthodox Jewish women being granted a status as halakhic decisors, ‘almost’ on a par with rabbinic ordination. As women’s rights in all spheres, Jewish and otherwise, is a cause close to my heart, I am very happy to hear of such developments. When I read passages like this one, however, I am torn:

“Friedman [the woman who is the focus of the article] says she chose the Torah path in response to religious radicalization. ‘We were all jolted by the extremist rulings of Rabbi Shlomo Aviner and other representatives of fundamentalism not to rent apartments to Arabs in Safed, or modesty requirements for a three-year-old girl and the like,’ she says. ‘My heritage in the religious-Zionist movement was different. But if you want to sound a different voice, you have to do it from within’” (emphasis added)

I think that Friedman is right, and that is what troubles me. In order to make some of the changes that I can only dream of experiencing in my own lifetime surrounding issues of gender acceptance, and eventually, equity, in Judaism, I often feel the need to fight from the inside. Throwing one’s lot in with the Orthodox community, however, carries with it the consequence of largely shutting out the voices in the Jewish community who have already reached the desired goal, except as personal inspiration. Orthodox communities do not want to hear from non-Orthodox communities on issues of ritual change. The only voices that will be heard are those like Friedman’s. I am left to ponder whether that is the battle that is calling to me, or if there are other battles that might provide the same fire under my belly without such compromise.

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the layers come off

From my blog:

The layers come offIMG_1993

Did that grab your attention? Well don’t get too excited, sorry to disappoint.

I was bracing my self for that cold shock on my face, but I got off the bus, and the sun hit my face. Oh hello sun! I walked to a coffee shop (duh) and sat outside…as the sun’s rays was beating down on me I started to have this weird feeling, warmth! Oh I haven’t felt you in what felt like forever! The sun was so strong I took off my jacket, heavy sweater, scarves, and cardigan! At this point I was only wearing a tang top! Scandals! I became so aware of how much skin I was showing, something where when I used to live in nyc I would give a second thought to, all of a sudden seemed so revealing. But the feeling on the sun on my skin, the vitamin D was so amazing!

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I stayed in tel aviv for 3 days, although I totally felt like I was in a different dimension. With the weather sunny, people smiling, and couldn’t stop saying “ahh hashemesh!” (the sun!) everyone looked so trendy, hip, and beautiful and I realized I am defiantly not in Jerusalem anymore! Continue reading

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Three Words

A story from my Cowbird:

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On the sidewalk H squints at the passing buses, trying to read their destinations as they motion quickly towards the places they will go. I pretend to help, but the combination of foreign characters and moving vehicles spins my head. “You’ll learn the language soon,” H says to me smiling. I don’t believe him, but I keep this quiet.

On a bus too wide for these streets we sit side by side. Our knees touching, and the quick turns push us closer. We don’t resist it. “Do you know the word seder?” He asks me. Of course I do, and I think of the twenty-two Passovers speeding past in the rear-view mirror: bowls of salted water, dead Aunts waving. This is H’s favorite Hebrew word: Seder, a noun, an order of things. He tells me his favorite word in English: Mind, a noun, a thing that thinks, that makes order, that remembers the right words, acts the right actions, so the person whose leg is touching yours can know exactly how you feel. It was Ramadan, but still that morning in his kitchen he dropped falafel dough in hot oil, dabbed them each on a napkin, ate twice as much as me, and said “I love you.” He tells me his favorite word in Arabic was the hardest to choose, since it is his Mother Tongue and its cognitive reservoirs reach back through every thought he can remember. I notice his eyes are the brightest black I have ever seen. That his mouth goes up without effort. “What’s your favorite word in Arabic?” I ask. “Fahima,” he said. A verb. To understand.

Cheese bourekas and falafel stands. My mind is swimming in cooking oil. Outside the bus, we pass posters promising war with Iran. We pass signs in Hebrew I do not understand. We pass sidewalks and fences of barbed wire. Inside the bus there is order. Two hands touch. Two eyes meet, and they do not look away.

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Humans Living Today

Beit Hillel

A classic example in the spirit of channukah–Shammai and Hillel on how to light a menorah.

Shammai takes a literal reading, deduces logically that the miracle provided for 8 days of oil and so tells us to start with 8 flames and reduce each night.  Hillel holds the opposite–start with 1 light and add a flame every night.  Why?  Because we must always increase the light.

This is, of course, the tradition we follow.

What does this example tell us about these two important schools in molding Judaism in the period after the destruction of the second temple?

Beit Shammai’s school is a literal, deductive, analytic argument.

Beit Hillel, intuitive, human-centered, spiritual, joyous.

These two voices are not unique to the Amoretic period.  They are the reactionary and the progressive, present in every age.  And, as in every age, our age requires a balance between the two sides.

One of the fundamental lessons of the gemara is that dialogue is good. Often the halachic decisions described or even decided upon in the commentary are not halachically binding.  So why learn it?  To impart the halachic sensibility that was employed by the sages in making decisions.

Further, it is important to share narratives.  The aggadic tradition is strong in the gemara, even outside of the writings, legends and midrash brought to illustrate a point.  Even apparent prooftexts should be better regarded as the sharing of a narrative to elucidate a point, to highlight meaning, not to prove it.

Even though true semikha does not exist, that the chain has been broken, we are the inheritors of Continue reading

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