Women, Organic Growth and Petrifacation

 

Dear Friends,

 

This week I will be addressing, in the Shabbat morning service, the role of women in our services. As many will know it’s a discussion that has been through a number of iterations at New London. At our last major engagement, two years ago just as I arrived at New London, a General Meeting split 71-70 in favour of making no change to our current arrangements. More recently I was asked by Council to provide some rabbinic leadership as we plot a way forward. In the most recent Newsletter I asked for anyone with feelings on the issue to contact me. I am available for meetings, phone conversations as well as e-mail. As I am firming up the recommendations I will make to the Services Committee and Council I feel it is vital that I understand as well as I can the fullest range of feelings in the community.

 

It is, of course, no surprise to find this issue bubbling away at our Shul. New London, of course, was founded on the back of a change in our understanding of the history of our Torah. Rabbi Jacobs acknowledges that an intelligent person simply couldn’t accept a ‘pre-modern’ theory of how our most important text arrives in these most modern times. He is of course right, but biblical archaeology and Ancient Near Eastern philology are not the only schools of thought that have transformed our understanding of our religion. At a time when many of the great ideological revolutions of the last century lie largely broken (Communism, Nationalism…), feminism retains, if not all the burning power of its foundational rhetoric, nonetheless a transformational hold over the mind of the intelligent modern. In an era where both Israel and the United Kingdom have known women Prime Ministers, it’s simply not possible to look at any woman in a position of leadership as an affront to men unable to lead the community themselves – as Deborah suggests to Barak in this week’s haftorah. This much is clear. But the implications of these transformed conceptions on our religious practice is less easy to plot. On the one hand our founder Rabbi claimed that there was no need to change religious practice just because our theology had changed. On the other hand Rabbi Jacobs dedicated much of his scholarship to showing how Judaism does change as societal influence impacts upon our tradition which has never been closed to the world around us. Rabbi Dr Elliot Cosgrove brings a fascinating example of Rabbi Jacobs advocating change in the face of societal change dating back to 1948 when, in the aftermath of the foundation of the modern State of Israel the question arose of how, religiously, to treat this new arrival. In an article entitled ‘Organic Growth vs Petrifaction’ Rabbi Jacobs insists that, “every thinking person must protest against the attitude which bids us to relinquish the project [of change in Judaism] merely on the grounds that we of this generation have not the merit to take an important step unknown to our ancestors.” And goes on to offer this extra-ordinary analogy.

 

“A year or two ago a process was discovered by means of which the paintings of the old masters in the National Gallery could be cleaned. At first there were shocked

outcries of “sacrilege.” Many of those who protested seem to have considered the very grime that had accumulated through the ages to be an essential part of the pictures. The protest went unheeded, the pictures were cleaned, the grime removed, and new beauties formerly obscured, were revealed to the eye. We should keep this in mind in our approach to the renewal of Jewish life. We must never identify the dust of the ages with the living Jewish faith; but as traditional Jews, while attempting to remove this dust, we must ever be on our guard not to wreak irreparable damage to the picture of Judaism by removing its paint with our too vigorous cleansing.”

 

We must neither wreak irreparable damage, nor must we venerate accreted grime. The balancing act that has always been at the heart of our journey as a community continues. I urge us all to play our part in it.

 

Shabbat shalom

 

Cosmic Seismography

 

Fitting in some ways, sickening in others.

 

In a week where we read in ancient papers of rivers turning into blood and plagues and storms in one set of books, modern papers tell of the devastation befalling Haiti.

The American Jewish World Service (an organisation I have worked with for a number of years) has launched an emergency fund, more information at www.ajws.org, and they have also provided some educational material. My eye was caught by this quote, from a Rabbi Yerucham Levovitz;

‘The seismograph has taught us that a tremor in any part of the world can be felt by a sufficiently sensitive instrument everywhere in the world. The same is true of a person’s deeds. One should not think that his actions do not affect others. Everything one does in some way affects everyone else in the world.’

The tool for measuring the destructive power of earthquakes is reclaimed as a spiritual calibrator, a tool for measuring our own actions – be they destructive or constructive – how much are we moved, how much do we move. It’s an image clearly driven by a deep understanding of the Rabbinic conception of the precarious nature of our existence and the terrifying power of individual action. ‘A person should see themselves as if they, and the whole world, balanced between being half-worthy and half-guilty.’ (Rambam MT Teshuvah 3:4) Our every act tips over the scales of both man and world, in one direction or another.

 

And maybe we need a third seismograph also; a way to measure how we are impacted as others suffer – what tremor is set off in our own hearts when we see the devastation wrecked in a desperately poor country which has seen more than enough tragedy? Maimonides again ‘One who sees a poor person begging and hides his eyes and does not give him charity transgresses a negative commandment, as it says (Deuteronomy 15:7), “Do not harden your heart or close your hand from your poor brother.’ (MT Matanot LaEvyonim 7:2). The attitude of the hard of heart is, as again we see from this week’s parashah, the attitude of Pharaoh.

 

These are, perhaps, the two ways where we, as Jews and humans, are most likely to fail in our engagement with this most modern catastrophe. We might close our eyes to the suffering of others, because they are too far away or too dark skinned for us to see their devastation, or we might believe that there is nothing we can do that would make a difference. Neither belief can be countenanced. Instead we need to tip the seismographs in the direction of good and believe that in so doing, cosmically and practically we can make a difference.

 

Those who wish to give to a Jewish organisation, using Gift Aid are warmly encouraged to support World Jewish Relief’s Earthquake Emergency Appeal http://www.wjr.org.uk/   or call 020 8736 1250.

Shabbat Shalom

Jeremy Gordon

 

It's Been Snowing

 

Snow, of course it does, makes an appearance in this week's Torah reading. Moses, standing before the burning bush is told to remove his hand from his garment and finds it  'diseased, white as snow.' Indeed snow makes two other appearances in the Hebrew Bible as  a descriptor of the strange leprous-like Biblical curse of ‘tzarat’; Miriam becomes as white as snow  having slandered Moses and Elisha's manservant Gehazi  is similarly afflicted in II Kings.

 

The Bible also uses snow as a useful counter image, its ob    vious connection to cool winter days offering itself up for more poetic uses. In Proverbs we desire snow to cool the temperatures of a hot ancient harvest (Prov 25) and we suggest that that honour is due the fool to the same extent that snow is due in summer (Prov 26).  As a symbol, however, snow is most powerfully associated with purity from sin. In words central to our Rosh Hashanah liturgy we cite Isaiah, 'though your sins be as scarlet they shall be as white as snow ' and  Psalms, 'Wash me and I shall be whiter than snow.'  Uncomprehending and looking out over a  destroyed Jerusalem the narrative voice of the book of Lamentations can't understand what went wrong, 'Her Nazarites were purer than snow, whiter than milk.' Snow is the symbol of sin-free purity, and the image reaches its zenith when Daniel looks out and sees God, sat on a lofty throne, clothed in a  garment 'white as snow.'

 

Symbols are glorious, of course, but the Bible certainly knows real snow. Jeremiah looks out at the 'snows of  Lebanon' and two of the Psalms recited in our daily service  take the opportunity to ensure that we know that the power behind snow is divine, 'God gives snow like wool, he scatters hail like ashes.' 'Fire and hail, snow, clouds and stormy wind fulfil His word.' (Ps 147 & 148).

 

At the end of the book of Job, God puts on a display of all the great natural forces of the world in a bid to get Job to understand how little of the secrets of the Universe a mere human could possibly understand and there, amongst the volcanoes and earthquakes, we read of a storehouse of snow, saved up as munitions for  a battle against the forces of evil.

 

Snow's  radiance draws our attention to the heavens. It reminds us of the power of nature - it stops us taking gentle cycles of seasonality for granted. For those of us fortunate enough to be able to heat our homes and wrap up as we crunch our way down icy pavements snow should also remind us of our obligations to  those without the economic ability to banish miserable shivering or the physical ability to  leave their homes in what is a dangerous time to be frail and unsteady.

 

Shabbat shalom

Good Nittel Nacht

 

 

Of course there are Jewish customs associated with 24^th December. How could the Rabbis let something like that go by. Since the 1500s a number of traditions have grown up around Christmas Eve. The central tradition is abstaining from Torah learning. In part the tradition might be seen as an act of mourning (as Jews refrain from ‘normal’ Torah study on 9^th Av. Or maybe it is driven in part by a fear of pogroms – a common occurrence in Medieval Europe – in any event Yeshivot would close for the night.

 

So what is a Rabbi to do? Some would play cards, or chess (usually considered a waste of learning time). The Lubavitcher Rebbe, Menachem Schneerson, would sew!

 

And the name ‘Nittel’? No-one quite knows. Maybe it comes from the Latin – Natale Dominus means Birth of our Lord. Or maybe it’s an acronym – Nolad Yeshu Tet L’Tevet – Jesus was born on the Ninth of Tevet.

 

Of course the political climate that gave rise to the Medieval fear of violence doesn’t apply today and, thankfully, the prospect of pogroms in St Johns Wood seems remote. So all are most warmly invited to join us for Shabbat services. I might even share a few words of Torah.

 

Shabbat shalom,

 

Rabbi Jeremy

 

Hat tip - http://hirhurim.blogspot.com/2007/12/nittel-nacht-christmas-eve.html

Lighting Candles and Passing Heros

Two giants of twentieth century Jewish studies have passed away in the last week, both Rabbinical graduates of the Jewish Theological Seminary where I trained.

Professor Yosef Yerushalmi z’tl was held the Chair in Jewish History at Columbia University and made major contributions in a variety of historical periods including the history of the Jews of Spain and Portugal. He will, however, be most remembered for his shortest work, Zachor. This 100 page masterpiece attempts to examine the relative power of historical fact and communal memory. It’s an extraordinary work to find issuing from the pen of fully fledged academic historian for Yerushalmi is deeply sceptical about the ultimate value of historical fact when compared to memory. It is memory, he says, which serves as the bulwark not only of Jewish identity but of communal endeavour in general. It’s a perspective that would have been close to the heart of our founder Rabbi who also knew that the power that drives our commitment to Jewish life lies beyond the raw historical data and lives, instead, almost mythically, in the subsumed communal memories of the Jewish people.

Professor Yochanan Muffs z’tl was Emeritus Professor of Bible and Jewish Thought at the Jewish Theological Seminary. When I arrived as a student at JTS tales were told of how, filled with passion for his text Yochanan (he was always called Yochanan) would begin writing something across a classroom boards and be swept along until his Hebrew would stretch across half the wall. I never got to meet that Yochanan. Instead I met a physical shadow, struck down by Parkinsons, but so alive in his mind. For a semester a fellow student and I would sit in his office with an unpublished masterpiece and we would try together to engage in study. Yochanan would often manage five or six coherent sentences over the hour, but those sentences have haunted me and transformed my reading of Bible more than any other Bible teacher I have encountered. I understand that Yochanan and Rabbi Jacobs were friends (if anyone has stories, please let me know). I recommend Yochanan’s a newly published work of popular scholarship On The Personhood of God warmly. In it he makes the case for accepting the anthropomorphic nature of the Jewish (or at least the Biblical) God. We shouldn’t be ashamed of God’s outstretched arm and flared nostril, instead we should read and celebrate the Bible on its own terms, full of passion, pathos and vitality.

So this Chanukah, when I light my Chanukah candles, aside from remembering heroes of past millennia I’ll be committing myself to keep the memories and the messages of these most recently deceased mighty heroes alive.

 

An (un)original midrash - The Flask of Oil

 

In our year long journey through the Biblical narrative text Jacob is preparing to meet his estranged brother. Fearing for his life he sends all his goods and even his wives and children before him across the River Yavoc. But Jacob remains behind. We know, from the written text that he ends up wrestling an angel, but why hasn’t he gone ahead? The Talmud (TB Hullin 31a) suggests he has gone back for some small flasks and suggests that this proves that righteous people don’t like to leave valuable property lying around, but I want to suggest a slightly different interpretation to explain why Jacob turns back. These were not just any old flasks. What follows is an (un)original Midrash I wrote on the cusp of Chanukah some time ago. It weaves together a number of elements in the written Torah and the classic oral Torah and, please God, it can help us arrive at Chanukah (first night next Friday, 11^th December) suitably illuminated.

 

Shabbat shalom,

 

 

An (Un)Original Midrash – The Flask of Oil

 

Adam and Eve grabbed out at whatever they could reach as they were dragged from the Garden of Eden. Eventually, lost and alone in the wilderness, they opened their hands to see what reminders of paradise they had smuggled away. There wasn’t much; some seeds, some fruit and the first pair of tongs (Avot 5:2). They tilled, hoed and planted the seeds and waited for harvest. It was bitter, inedible. Eve tried pressing the fruit, which drew out the bitterness, but it was hardly tasty. She put the oil aside for safekeeping.

 

As the days passed into weeks Adam noticed the nights getting longer and the days shorter. He wailed, ‘This is the punishment for our sin. Darkness is overtaking the world and we are sliding back to the primordial state of darkness and void.’ (Avodah Zara 8a) Meanwhile Eve created a small lamp for the olive oil and during the darkest nights she would light the oil and she, her husband and children would sit in its light and the darkness no longer seemed so terrifying.

Generations passed and Eve passed the flask on to her descendents. And a great miracle happened; the oil never ran out.

 

Many years later Noah’s wife took one look at her husband’s craftwork and reached for the oil. The ark had been fully covered with pitch, inside and out and was totally dark. (Genesis Rabbah 31:11) The bats and the badgers were happy, but the rest of the animals refused to enter. So she lit the oil and she, her husband and children and all the (diurnal) animals would sit in its light and the darkness no longer seemed so terrifying.

 

Many years later the flask had been passed to Jacob. ‘Light it when you are most afraid,’ Rebecca counseled as she pressed the oil into his hand. And now Jacob was afraid. He had sent his wives, his children, his servants, all of his possessions across the river and he forgot the flask of oil. He turned back ‘for he had left behind some small jars’ (Hullin 91a) and, in darkness, he lit his lamp and wrestled the angel and the darkness no longer seemed so terrifying.

 

So goes the story of the oil.

It was the last remaining possession of the ‘woman of the wives of the sons of the prophets’ who didn’t understand its miraculous properties until Elisha told her to keep pouring oil from the flask, knowing it would last forever and that the revenue could pay off the creditor who had come to take her sons into slavery (2 Kings 4). Samuel used the oil to anoint Saul, the first King of Israel, and also to anoint David, his successor (I Sam. 10:1 & 16:3). It was used to light the everlasting light that would light up the sanctuary and the Temple. And always the oil brought comfort, in its light the darkness no longer seemed so terrifying.

 

When the Hasmoneans defeated the Greeks and re-entered the Temple they searched and could find only one flask of oil, and to the untrained eye it seemed as if there was only enough for one day’s lighting. (Shabbat 21b) But this was no ordinary oil, and of course it lasted.

And today, when we light our own Chanukiot, we remember all the great miracles bestowed upon on our ancestors and upon us. But perhaps the greatest miracle is the miracle of a flame. For when we sit in its light, the darkness no longer seems so terrifying.

 

 

One less hero

Yochanan Muffs was one of my great heroes, as a teacher and scholar.

I only knew him when he was already greatly physically restricted by illness, but what a mind, what passion and what a sense of love for the Bible.

He passed away over the weekend.

May his memory be a blessing.

 

For a taster, try this.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nnXuTeT4-jw

 

Thanks to http://menachemmendel.net/blog/2009/12/06/yochanan-muffs-zl/