Monthly Archives: February 2007

Jewish Iran 101

mot.jpgPurim – the festival that highlights the experience of ancient Persian Jewry – arrives this weekend. In advance of the holiday, (and given the current state of affairs in that part of the world) I thought it might be interesting to take a closer look at the little-known present day Jewish community of Iran.

Some of the following facts may surprise you:

- Iran is home to 25,000 Jews – the largest Jewish community in the Middle East outside of Israel.

- Judaism is a recognized minority religion in Iran. The religious rights of Jews are protected by the Islamic constitution, which allows them observe Jewish traditions freely.

- According to Iranian law, the Jewish community can elect its own member of parliament (currently Maurice Motamed, above).

- There are approximately 30 synagogues, six kosher butchers and a Jewish hospital in Tehran. Children may attend Jewish schools (though all principals are Muslim, the schools do not close on Shabbat and the curriculum is supervised by the government).

- There is the Jewish hospital in Tehran, which has a Jewish director and is funded by donations from the Diaspora.

- Because of the Islamic nature of the regime, Jews, like other minorities, face discrimination which prevents them from securing government jobs or becoming army officers.

- Though Iranian Jews are not allowed to publicly support the Jewish state in any way, they are allowed to travel to and from Israel – a fact both countries have recently acknowledged.

- Despite Iranian President Ahmadinejad’s Holocaust denial and anti-Israel rhetoric – as well as efforts by the world Jewish community to encourage their emigration – Iranian Jews are generally opting to stay in their native homeland.

Though the Jewish population of Iran is but a vestige of what it once was, Iranian Jews are proud of their history and fiercely devoted to their community. For more in depth information about Jewish Iran, I highly recommend this BBC piece and this recent article from the Jewish Forward.

People You Should Know About: Andy Statman

Forget about the Jewish nouveau/pseudo-cool music acts that drive the 20-something Jewish hipsters gaga these days (sorry “Kosha Dillz…”) For my money, the greatest Jewish musician alive is virtuoso bluegrass/klezmer/folk mandolin/clarinet player Andy Statman.

In a recent article in the Jerusalem Post, Samuel Freedman called Statman “one of the most important Jewish creative artists of the postwar era.” As a die-hard Statman fan for years, I will say without hesitation that Freedman is not engaging in mere hyperbole. He’s the real deal: an uncompromising musician who follows his artistic/spiritual muse into surprising and often transcendent territory. (Listen to Statman and David Grisman interpret “Mim’komkha” on their recent CD “New Shabbos Waltz” and you will understand what I mean.)

Those in the know will attest that the best kept musical secret in NYC is Statman’s standing gig at the Greenwich Village Synagogue on St. Charles St. If you aren’t able to make it to New York any time soon, click on the video above for a taste.

Constructing Sacred Community

mishkan.jpg

This week’s Torah portion, Parashat Terumah, is one of those portions that can be the bane of every Bar or Bat Mizvah kid: a seemingly endless litany of picayune details regarding the construction of the Mishkan (Tabernacle). What on earth can we possibly learn from this parade of dolphin skins, acacia wood, crimson yarns, loops and clasps?

If we understand the constructions of the Mishkan as a metaphor for creating sacred community, the lesson is should be obvious: details matter.

I’ve been acutely aware of this lesson as JRC constructs its new synagogue building. In addition to the many details that come with a construction project of this magnitude (e.g., fund raising, location, budget, design, zoning, etc.) our board made one important decision early in the building process: that we would build our building in the most environmentally sustainable manner possible. Guided by the sacred Jewish value of Bal Tashchit , we have now begun construction on what we intend to be the first certified “Green Synagogue” in the world.

Specifically, this means our congregation is participating in a process known as LEED certification – a system designed by the US Green Building Council. LEED stands for “Leadership in Energy and Environmental Design” and it is the nationally accepted benchmark for the design, construction, and operation of high performance green buildings.

mishkan-day-view.jpgLEED certification is based on a grading system, with points awarded for commitment to five key areas: sustainable site development, water savings, materials selection, indoor environmental quality, and energy efficiency. Buildings that garner 52 to 69 points achieve the highest level, or Platinum status. The next level, Gold, is awarded to buildings that achieve 39 to 51 points. (I am proud to report that JRC is currently well on track to achieve Gold status).

Much like the “checklist” for the ancient Mishkan, the list of LEED items in our new synagogue building is substantial and exhaustive:

- A white, reflective roof, which will help our air conditioning system to work more efficiently, especially during peak usage hours.

- A tight, energy conserving shell, with thicker walls and more insulation that retains more cool air in the summer and more heat in the winter.

- Windows made of special glass that lets in more natural light and less heat from the outside.

- An HVAC system will be computerized and divided into zones, designed to only cool or heat those areas that are actually in use.

- A sanctuary calibrated to heat or cool from the floor to about seven feet up, so as not to waste energy in the upper levels of the room.

- A ventilation system that will use motion and CO2 sensors to let in the requisite amount of oxygen for ventilation at any given time.

- Recycled concrete from 100% of our old building’s façade and front steps, which was ground up and reused in our new building’s foundation.

- 100% reclaimed cypress wood to be used on the building’s exterior, insuring that no new trees will be cut down.

- 20% of the overall building materials to be manufactured locally, and 50% of the interior wood in our facility to come from certified sustainable forests (i.e., forests that do not engage in the practice of clear cutting.)

As JRC now knows all too well, details do matter. During the planning for our new building, we have fought hard for every item on the list above – and many, many more besides. In so doing, we have come to understand that sacred space is not defined by the physical building per se, but the process by which it is built. As Terumah teaches, a sacred community is ultimately defined not just by what it does, but how it does it.

After all, even though the ancient tabernacle does not exist any more, the process of building the Mishkan remains very much alive in our collective Jewish imagination. The rabbis teach that the description of building the Mishkan, in fact, is symbolic of the Ma’aseh Bereshit – the sacred work of Creation. In constructing the Tabernacle, the Israelites were invited to reenact the creative process by which God created the Universe itself.

In the end, the imperative of Terumah echoes the classical Zionist slogan “Livnot U’lehibanot” – “To Build and be Built.” Through the process of creating our new building, we are discovering the true meaning of sacred community.

Another Shandeh for the Goyim

toaff01g1.jpgWhat’s the Jewish brouhaha du jour? A new book by Italian/Israeli historian Ariel Toaff (right) that claims there may be some historical truth to the medieval blood libel (i.e., the claim that European Jews murdered Christian children and used their blood to make matzah on Pesach.)

Whaaaaa?

Apparently the book has now been pulled from shelves following – fancy this – a torrent of international criticism.

And if all that isn’t surreal enough for you, then check out the Ha’aretz editorial with the priceless title (I kid you not), “And Supposing They Did Drink Blood?” (I just love one reader’s comment: “Is This a Purim Joke?”)

The Murderers Among Us

m.jpgWho would have thought a seventy five year old German movie would have something to teach us about living in the post 9/11 age?

I’m referring to “M,” the 1931 film directed by Fritz Lang. “M” is a classic thriller about the manhunt for a serial child murderer, played by a young Peter Lorre in his first film role. I first saw this film years ago, and like most undergraduate film geeks, I dug it for its dark German expressionist style, the memorable creepiness of Lorre’s performance, the Brechtian portrayal of the beggars, prostitutes and criminals of the Berlin underworld.

I recently saw “M” again in a restored version released by the great Criterion Collection DVD series. Interestingly enough, this time around the movie resonated for me in a very different way. The unforgettable images were still there, of course, but I was struck even more by the film’s larger socio-political vision – a powerful plea for the rule of law in a fearful and changing world.

Indeed, though “M” is a movie about a serial murderer, it spends almost all of its running time exploring the impact these crimes had on the German population – the paranoia and creeping mob mentality of the citizenry. Lang cuts back and forth between the efforts of the police and the local underworld to catch the murderer. The climax of the film takes place when Lorre is finally caught by the criminals and hauled off to face a kangaroo court in an abandoned warehouse – and it is here that the film makes a dramatic 180 degree turn.

The film’s final scene makes it clear what “M” is really about. Facing his accusers, Lorre breaks down, howling over and over: “I can’t help myself!” It’s one of those amazing movie moments, in which all of the viewers’ expectations become completely subverted. In this instant, “M” stops being a thriller/procedural about the hunt for a serial child murderer and becomes something else entirely – something much more important.

We now see Lorre’s character for what he truly is: not a terrifying monster, but a sad, pathetic individual who is powerless to control his sickening compulsions. His accusers, on the other hand, know exactly what they are doing. (“You have no right to keep me here!” Lorre yells at his captors – and of course, he is absolutely right). As he cowers in fear and self loathing (a truly incredible performance) the underworld mob increasingly cries out for vengence. They advance, but the police arrive the moment before they lynch him. A hand touches Lorre’s shoulder, and we hear a policeman’s voice from off-screen: “In the name of the law…”

I can’t help but think what an incredible act of courage it took for Lang to release a movie such as this in Germany in 1931. Lang claimed that his original title for “M” was “The Murderers Among Us” – which some critics understand as a subtle double entendre for the rising tide of intolerance in German society. (A wanted poster in the film asks the question, “Who is the Murderer?” Who indeed?)

Could you even imagine such a movie being released in our own country today? I’m still waiting for the first real film to explore the fear and suspicion of our current age. In the meantime, truly brave movies like “M” will have to do.

Stranger Anxiety

barbedwire230604.jpg“You shall not oppress a stranger, for you know the feelings of the stranger, having yourselves been strangers in the land of Egypt.” (Exodus 23:9)

The most oft-repeated commandment in Torah – it appears 36 times – is the injunction against mistreating the stranger. (It actually appears twice in this week’s portion, Parashat Mishpatim). The “soul of the stranger,” of course, it a central theme in the Torah. Many of the narratives of Genesis emphasize the experience of the patriarchs and matriarchs as sojourners in the land. (When Abraham seeks a burial place for his wife, Sarah, for instance, he describes himself to the Hittites by saying, “I am a stranger among you…”) (23:4). There is also an important foreshadowing of the Israelites future experience as an oppressed alien minority (“Know well that your offspring shall be strangers in a land not theirs…”) (15:13)

The commandment to protect the stranger in their midst, then, seems to be woven into the very fabric of Torah itself. The Israelites are somehow born into the world as strangers and are thus commanded – more often than anything else – to protect the stranger.

While this commandment appears in our portion amidst a litany of civil, criminal and social laws, it is underscored by an important theological claim: “You know the soul of the stranger.” In other words, the injunction to protect the stranger comes from a shared sense of “other-ness” – particularly with those who might appear at first to be “strange” to us. This spiritual insight was explored powerfully by Rabbi Jonathan Sacks, Chief Rabbi of Great Britain, in his book “The Dignity of Difference:”

We encounter God in the face of the stranger. That is, I believe, the Hebrew Bible’s single greatest and most counterintuitive contribution to ethics…The human other is a trace of the Divine Other. As an ancient Jewish teaching puts it, ‘When a human being makes many coins in the same mint, they all come out the same. God makes every person in the same image – God’s image, and yet each one is different.’ The supreme religious challenge is to see God’s image in one who is not in our image. (pp. 59-60)

Yes, it certainly does feel counterintuitive. How can we possibly see God’s image in someone who we don’t know personally? How can we see God’s image in someone whose values are fundamentally different from our ours? How do we find God’s image in someone who might seek to do us harm? The answer, of course, is that we are all strangers one way or another. But it is only when we look truly and honestly into the face of the one who is different from us that we understand the truth of our common humanity.

It is truly paradigmatic of our times that such a suggestion might seem impossibly naive. Sacks’ book was published in the immediate wake of 9/11 – now five years hence, it might well be claimed that our world has been utterly gripped by collective stranger anxiety. But in truth, these words are even more critical for us now than ever before. To see the face of God in the stranger is indeed the supreme religious challenge of our age.

I Read the News Today, Oh Boy…

sgt_pepper.jpgFor you Jewish paranoiacs who always insisted you saw Hitler peeking out from behind the crowd on the “Sgt. Pepper” cover…

Guess what? You were RIGHT!!!

An article from the Belfast Telegraph finally sets the record straight…

Us and Them?

moses-and-jethro.jpgThe other day I found myself reading a lovely internet article by Michael Medved entitled “Why the World Hates the Jews.” (No, I won’t provide the link for you here, but I’m sure you can find it if you’d like to read it yourself.) When I finished I ended up asking myself, is this really what it all comes to? Is this really what it means to be Jewish? At the end of the day, is it all really just about “Us vs. Them?”

I found myself pondering the same question as I read this week’s Torah portion, Parashat Yitro, which begins with an important encounter between Moses and his father-in-law, Jethro, the Midianite High Priest. Jethro is portrayed as much more than just a close relative – he serves as Moses’ trusted adviser and mentor as well. When he sees Moses struggling to adjudicate for the Israelites all by himself, he suggests the creation of a judicial system to handle the lesser cases. Thus we learn that the ancient Israelite judiciary was actually created through the counsel of the Midianite High Priest!

Jethro is a unique character in the Torah. A member of a foreign nation, he nonetheless takes in Moses as a member of his own family after Moses flees Egypt. (Tellingly, he is almost always referred to in the Torah as “Jethro, father-in-law of Moses”). He is the High Priest of an idolatrous people, yet he is openly and unabashedly appreciative of the Israelites’ God. (“Blessed is Adonai” he says upon greeting Moses, “who has rescued you from the hand of Egypt and from the hand of Pharaoh…”) (Exodus 18:10). It is sobering to contemplate that the one of the most classic portions in Torah – the portion in which Israel receives the law at Sinai – is actually named for the High Priest of Midian.

Indeed, in a portion that so strongly emphasizes the Israelites’ uniqueness, their relationship with Jethro represents an important counter-balance – a reminder that Israel is still intimately connected to the family of nations. Even as we prepare to stand at Sinai, we are reminded that we are both separate from the nations and of the nations.

Astute readers of the Torah might well point out that this positive portrayal of Jethro is puzzling when we read later episodes that describe less than savory encounters with Midian. In one infamous passage, for instance, God commands the Israelites to attack the Midianites in retaliation for illicit sexual unions (see Numbers 25:14-18)

How can we reconcile such contradictory portrayals of the Midianites? Biblical scholars would likely point out that these accounts represent the work of different Biblical authors with very different religious and political agendas. Others claim that Jethro was a member of the Kenite clan of the Midianites, who were historically allied with the Israelite nation and eventually became assimilated into it (see Judges 1:16).

On the other hand, maybe we don’t need to reconcile these portrayals at all. Perhaps these contradictory accounts are precisely the point. Who are the Midianites, after all? The answer can be found in one little throwaway line back in the book of Genesis:

Abraham took another wife, whose name was Keturah. She bore him Zimran, Jokshan, Medan, Midian, Ishbak, and Shuah (Genesis 25: 1-2).

That’s right: Midian was orginally a son of Abraham! This means that the Midianites are, in a sense, step-siblings of the Israelites. They are mishpoche.

These so-called “contradictory” Midianite narratives are only contradictory if we choose to view the world in terms in absolute terms, as “Us vs. Them.” But the Torah resolutely resists such dichotomies. While we may be a unique part of the family of nations, we are still part of a family. There is no “Us and Them.” In the end, there is only “Us.”

People You Should Know About: Bassam Aramin

abir_aramin150.jpgPlease read this article by Bassam Aramin, the former Palestinian militant whose 10 year old daughter Abir (right) was recently killed during a clash between stone throwing youths and Israeli border police in the West Bank town of Anata.

Aramin is currently a member of Combatants for Peace, an inspiring effort created by Israelis and Palestinians who are promoting a non-violent resolution to this tragic conflict.

Grief cuts many ways. It can inspire deeper hatred, but sometimes, in rare and precious occasions such as this, it can also promote greater healing.

Please, please read Aramin’s article…

Coexistence on the Airwaves

coexist.jpgJust learned from the European Jewish News website about Radio Salaam Shalom, a new British station featuring Jewish and Muslim music, talk and feature programming.

Apparently the station is a project of Jewish and Muslim university students who created the station “as a means of forging closer links with each other.” According to the article:

While Radio Salaam Shalom hopes to focus on the faiths’ often overlooked similarities and shared culture, bosses have also vowed not to “duck” the potentially divisive issues between them, such as the Israeli-Palestinian dispute.

Click here for the station’s website, which offers streaming audio. I haven’t checked it out yet, but would say it’s worth a listen…