One Land, Two Conflicting Stories

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by Rabbi Wendy Spears

It seems like everyone has become an expert in how to solve the crisis between Jews and Arabs in the Middle East. With the 24/7 news cycle, the myriad details of this issue are examined, analyzed, and discussed ad nauseum. It is very easy to be an armchair critic from afar. However, there is no easy solution for this complex problem.

There are two groups of people who claim ownership of the country Israel: Jews and Arabs. Both groups claim to be indigenous people, and it doesn’t much matter which group was there first since both are there now. Jews claim the land based on the biblical and historical narrative that this is the place God promised to the descendants of Abraham. While much of the Jewish population was exiled from the land by the Romans, a remnant remained. It was the Romans who changed the name of the place from Judea to Palestina (a variant of Philistia, one of Judea’s enemies), as an insult to the conquered population.

The Jewish story has been one of longing to return to Israel over the course of their history from the Roman period onward. Jews lived in their ancient homeland under the governance of the Ottoman Turks and under the British Mandate. They accepted the United Nations Partition Plan of 1947 to apportion the land to both the Jews and the Palestinian Arabs.

The Arab story is that they, too, are the indigenous people in the land and see themselves also as descendants of Abraham. Like the Ottoman Turks and the British, they see the Jews as European imperialist usurpers who must be expelled rather than tolerated. They don’t consider Jews to be indigenous people like themselves. They didn’t accept the 1947 U.N. Partition Plan.

These two narratives don’t combine well, and have been the underlying reason for the continuing conflict between Jews and Arabs in Israel. Jews have given land for peace: the Sinai Peninsula was returned to Egypt in 1982 and is Jew-free; Gaza was given to the Palestinian Arabs in 2005 and is Jew-free, and currently controlled by Hamas. A portion of the West Bank is under the control of Fatah.

But there is suddenly a glimmer of hope for peace. Mahmoud Abbas, the official voice for Palestinian Arabs in the West Bank said in an interview with Ha’Aretz newspaper in Israel (July 8, 2014), “I am totally committed to the vision of a two-state solution, normalization and peace with our neighbor – Israel.” http://www.haaretz.com/news/diplomacy-defense/israel-peace-conference/1.603723 Pretty astonishing, considering the history and the current conflict being staged by Hamas.

I continue to pray for peace between Israel and all her Arab neighbors. May it come soon in our lifetime.

#peace #Israel #Palestine #Hamas #Fatah #Abbas #MidEastConflict

Rabbi Wendy Spears is a community rabbi in Los Angeles. Find her at http://www.rabbiwendy.com

Member of the Tribe

by Rabbi Wendy Spears

I am saddened and fearful each moment due to the current situation in Israel. Hamas, the Palestinian terrorist organization which controls the Gaza Strip, is firing rockets at civilian targets in Israel. For my own family members, the Israeli people, and the beautiful country itself, I am anxious.

It’s challenging to feel connected to Israel if you’ve never been there. As a first-year graduate student, I lived in Jerusalem. It was an opportunity to see the places about which I’d only read, as well as experience life in all its complexity. Good thing I took Hebrew classes while at UCLA; I was able to communicate a little bit with my neighbors and the local shopkeepers. My Hebrew language skills greatly improved over the course of that year.

I enjoyed riding the bus from my 4th floor walk-up apartment to campus, buying fresh flowers and the English language newspaper The Jerusalem Post on Fridays, and walking all over the city by myself without fear of crime. All those soldiers with guns are there to protect civilians. And wow! Israelis certainly know what to do with a vegetable. It was easier to be a vegetarian in Israel than anywhere else I’d been before that.
When many of my clients talk about being Jewish today, they refer to holiday celebrations at Hanukkah and Passover, going to funerals at Jewish cemeteries, and attending bar and bat mitzvah ceremonies – either their own or those of family and friends. They rarely talk about some of the aspects that continue to engage me in Judaism: stories which express our values and history, new understandings of keeping kosher (Jewish way of doing and being), connections with Jewish people and places where we’ve lived over the course of our peoplehood. Wherever I go, whether at home in Los Angeles or traveling, I search out Jewish people, places, and experiences.

Heed these words from my colleague Rabbi Aaron Panken: “If you have plans to be [in Israel], come. If you do not yet have plans to be [in Israel], make them soon. . . Sign up now to reserve your place for a trip that will expose you to everything [Israel] is now and is becoming. If you cannot spend time in the near future, then it is incumbent upon you to become informed – read Haaretz or The Jerusalem Post, and try to stay on top of events as they develop. Only with a long-term commitment to reading regularly can one hope to become knowledgeable enough to understand the many aspects of Israel’s complex mélange of culture and faith, memory, and history.”

A sense of peoplehood is essential to being Jewish. This happens best by seeking out just those experiences that I’ve mentioned in the preceding section. And while it may seem unsafe to visit Israel at this particular moment of Hamas rocket fire, this situation will eventually pass. I encourage all my readers to make it a priority to visit Israel, either for the first time or again. It will help to connect you more strongly to what it means to be Jewish.

Rabbi Wendy Spears is a community rabbi in Los Angeles. Find her at http://www.rabbiwendy.com
#Israel #Jewish #peoplehood

http://blogs.timesofisrael.com/top-ten-questions-answers-about-the-current-action-in-israel/

The Spirituality of Patience

by Rabbi Wendy Spears

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Everything takes longer than you think it will. This is one of my mom’s teachings, and she’ll be happy to know that I think she’s right. (Thanks, Mom!) Because I live in Los Angeles, I drive in traffic much of the time that I am on the road. The infrastructure of this city was not built to accommodate so many people and their cars. People who are not from Los Angeles can’t really understand why the traffic is so terrible here. One of the reasons is because things are really spread out; everything is far away. I read on a recent blog that Angelenos don’t really know the mileage from place to place, but can know pretty accurately how much time it will take to get from one place to another — so true. It takes a good 30-40 minutes to get anywhere in light traffic; the same distance can take 3 to 4 times as long in heavy traffic. Or there can be an accident that requires finding an alternate route around the traffic. Then it’s necessary to figure in time to find a parking space, park, get out of the car, and walk the rest of the way to the destination.

So, I wait around a lot. In traffic. Out of traffic, while the people I’m meeting are waiting in traffic. Sometimes, there’s unusually light traffic and I arrive at my destination sooner than I expected. Thus, I am once again waiting for an event to start. One of my life lessons this time around is cultivating a sense of patience. By nature, I’m rather an impatient person. I find it difficult to wait if I don’t have something to do while I’m waiting. I try to prepare and bring along a book to read or a project to knit. I find both of these to be a spiritual practice. The knitting is meditative, stitch after stitch, row by row, in rhythm. I can sing prayers to myself while I’m knitting, or other songs that I find uplifting. I love non-fiction, so the reading is usually a learning experience, a Jewish way of study to help me make decisions in making the world a better place.

I’m not one of those people who finds daily meditational practice effortless. It certainly takes work on my part. In some ways, it can be a task to check off my list. I’m impatient to finish being patient. But impatience makes me feel grumpy and intolerant of the way things are. When I’m waiting, though, my spiritual practices of learning or knitting are part of what I do to be more patient. For me, being patient is making the spiritual space that I need to be kinder, to slow down, to be tolerant, helping me face the world in a more peaceful way. The more I cultivate patience, the happier I am. That has to be better for the way things are, letting the world be how it is and not how I would have it be.

Rabbi Wendy Spears is a community rabbi in Los Angeles. Find her at http://www.rabbiwendy.com.

#patience  #spirituality #losangeles #traffic

The Power of Prayer

by Rabbi Wendy Spears

(painting by Elisheva Shira)

Blessing CandlesThis week, the Supreme Court of the United States began to establish Christianity as the preferred religion of our country. I am sure that I am not the only one who is distressed by this turn of events. According to Justice Anthony Kennedy, I should just ignore any prayers which don’t reflect my theology; those who “feel excluded or disrespected” by such religious invocations could simply ignore them. “Adults often encounter speech they find disagreeable,” he said. The 5 members of the majority opinion are all practicing Catholics.

For the minority opinion (3 Jews and a non-practicing Catholic), Justice Elena Kagan wrote, “When the citizens of this country approach their government, they do so only as Americans, not as members of one faith or other. They should not confront government-sponsored worship that divides them along religious lines.”

An established state/governmental religion has historically been bad for the Jews. And I would say to Justice Kennedy that I don’t find Christian prayers disagreeable for Christians. Folks can pray in their churches however they believe reflects their theology and community. It’s the government-sponsored part that is problematic. It’s also problematic to be told to ignore feelings of exclusion or disrespect, as if these were part of the imagination of a troublesome child.

I’m of the opinion that prayer is meant to bind us together as a community, not tear us apart. In a country of many religious beliefs, keeping the peace often means praying separately. In the Kaddish, the prayer of holiness that Jews recite, it is recognized that “God is beyond all blessings, hymns, and praises which people render.” God doesn’t need our prayers. We need prayers to help us connect with each other through shared words, melodies, and concepts, bringing a sense of spirituality and connection with the oneness that is the mystery of the universe. It is difficult, if not impossible, for all Americans to pray as one when we have such vastly different beliefs in God and ways of practicing our religious traditions. This is where the myth of a ‘Judeo-Christian tradition’ falls flat on its face. Judaism and Christianity are different from each other even though we have a sacred text in common. It saddens me that the Supreme Court majority has ignored this so brazenly.

Rabbi Wendy Spears is a community rabbi in Los Angeles. Find her at http://www.rabbiwendy.com.

The Spirituality of Hand-Washing

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by Rabbi Wendy Spears

As we approach Passover, I’ve come around again to thinking about hand-washing. When I was growing up, my family didn’t do this part of the Passover seder ritual. I didn’t learn about it until I was an undergraduate participating in a student-led seder at Hillel. At that time, it seemed to me to be a pretentious substitute for just getting up from the table and going to the sink to get our hands good and clean before eating the meal.

But hand-washing isn’t really about physical cleanliness. It’s about spiritual readiness, marking the transition from the ordinary or difficult to the realm of the spiritual. It is truly a practice of mindfulness. It’s part of Jewish culture to wash hands upon leaving a cemetery. This is where hand-washing has gained ritual power for me.

The process of ‘laving,’ the particular way of moving the water back and forth between hands so that each hand is bathed three times, requires a lot more thought and attention than a simple washing with soap under a gushing faucet. As I leave a cemetery, I take a few moments at the washing waterfall to say a blessing, bathe my hands, and read the sentence from Isaiah 25:8. This gives me some time to separate myself from the death experience and put myself in the frame of mind to drive home to my ordinary routine.

Hand-washing is most powerful to me when I’ve heard memory sharing of difficult circumstances. I recently officiated at a funeral where the deceased knew of abuse to other family members and did nothing at all to aid the victims. One of the victims revealed the story at the funeral and was validated by friends of the deceased that the information was known, and yet, the deceased felt powerless to intervene due to his own complicated relationship with the abuser.

I felt the need so strongly to wash away the immediacy of sadness. I didn’t want to forget the story, rather to not have the emotions cling to me in the moment when I needed to be able to focus on driving. Laving my hands had the immediate effect of clarifying my minds and cooling my emotions. The anger and sadness for the victims was put on hold momentarily.

No amount of washing can remove the memory of pain and suffering. And yet, it can hold the memories at bay temporarily. The beginning of the Passover story deals with the anger and sadness of bondage in Egypt. When I view the hand-washing through this lens, I can become more spiritually prepared to walk the path of the story as if it happened to me. It’s a process of being more aware of nuances in the Exodus narrative. As a participant in this narrative, I will be redeemed from that which enslaves me, that which prevents me from feeling truly free.

It’s so easy to get stuck in the ordinariness of life, to feel bound to errands, chores, paperwork, the commitments of the day to day activities. Like Shabbat is an oasis of rest in the rush of the week, so has laving my hands with water given me a small spiritual space to be mindful that there can be blessings, joy, and healing, even in the midst of pain and suffering on many levels. For this small mitzvah (a Jewish way of doing and being), I have become truly grateful.

Rabbi Wendy Spears is a community rabbi in Los Angeles. Find her at http://www.rabbiwendy.com

 

A Biblical Space-Time Continuum: Mishkan Ohel-Moed

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by Rabbi Wendy Spears

I am privileged to partake in learning Torah from student rabbis at the congregation where I am a member. As a group, we are reading each portion together and sharing the various commentaries at the bottom of each page of text.

During the last session, we read about the architectural and interior design details of the traveling tabernacle of the Israelites which they created in the wilderness while they were wandering. It was a place for God to dwell amongst them. It seems like these details were recorded in order to recreate this tabernacle at some point in the future. Creating this beautiful place in the midst of their wanderings was an amazing and cooperative effort.

The English words ‘tabernacle’ and ‘tent of meeting’ obscure the multiplicity of interpretations that can be found in the Hebrew. The first word in Hebrew is mishkan. This has a similar meaning to Shekhina, the in-dwelling presence of the Divine that is in all people, a presence that the Jewish mystical tradition also imagines as the feminine aspect of the Divine. It is similar in meaning to the modern Hebrew word shekhoona, a neighborhood or residential area. I understand from this that there is a sense of closeness, of intimacy, from this word. It is something that brings spirituality close to hand, so much so that you could reach out or reach in, and touch it.

The special tent (Ohel Mo-ed) in the wilderness, that the people could pack up and take with them wherever they went, was a place for God to live in the midst the people. It was a real place filled with holiness (a pillar of cloud by day and a pillar of fire by night). The Place, ha-makom, is another name for God; it is somewhere in your own reality where you can find a sense of spirit, of wholeness, and of peace. It could also be a physical place where you experience the Divine.

The last word, translated in English as ‘meeting,’ is mo-ed in Hebrew. This word has to do with time, with being present in the moment. Mo-adim l’simkha are times of joy, celebrations and holidays. Ed is also the word for ‘witness’ in Hebrew, so mo-ed might mean ‘witnessing.’

This phrase Mishkan Ohel Moed seems more mysterious the more I think about it. It seems to recognize a concept learned relatively recently in science: Space-Time. It can be about setting aside a place and time for ourselves to begin to breathe slowly and deeply, to recognize the sacred all around us and inside of us. It encourages us to recognize beauty and create beauty, so that we see ourselves as beautiful and spiritual. It is also a community endeavor; when we are in relationships, we can experience holiness that we couldn’t reach alone.

The journey of the Israelites wandering in the wilderness is one of the core stories in Judaism that teaches us many of our values; hospitality, community, rest from work, the worthiness of adventure and pushing our boundaries. The idea of space-time certainly pushes our intellectual boundaries. It seems possible that the ancient Israelites were trying to express this idea with Mishkan Ohel Mo-ed, creating time and space to experience the sacred that was also portable across space-time. That is truly remarkable and worth exploring.

Rabbi Wendy Spears is a community rabbi in Los Angeles. Find her at http://www.rabbiwendy.com.

The Spirituality of Nurturing

Imageby Rabbi Wendy Spears

Over the course of many weeks, I was privileged to be in partnership with my dear friend and colleague Rabbi Jill Zimmerman as we planned and shepherded a one-day retreat for a Mindful Journey Through Shabbat on January 18, 2014, over the long weekend celebrating the birth of the Reverend Martin Luther King, Jr.

The retreat was intended to make space for the 60 participants to breathe in and experience the true peace of Shabbat (the Sabbath) while making time for themselves to be mindful of their own spirituality as well as that of those taking the journey with them. We sang, prayed, meditated, studied, conversed, did yoga – so many different levels of connecting as a community and opening ourselves to one another as well as our inner life.

My journey for the day centered around nurturing everyone by making sure that I took care of the details. By sitting at the registration table, I had the opportunity to greet the participants in joyfulness and welcome them into creating sacred space. I directed folks to restroom facilities. I coordinated meal set-up and clean-up with my colleague Rabbi Cindy Enger, Rabbi Jill’s husband Ely, and our staff – two snacks and the lunch, and arranged care packages for people to take home.

All of this may sound mundane, but it truly felt like I was stretching spiritually to be present for people in this way. I am often the scholar at events like these, and I know that role very well. I also know how to be a mother to my children and a life partner to my husband. Being the caring ‘mom-like’ presence for a large group felt new to me, and like an exercise in spirit. As I wrote out the name tags in preparation for registration, it was my intention to write in a beautiful way so that the little pieces of paper contributed to a lovely welcome. I chose a variety of colored folders for the learning materials to add to an eye-catching display. As I shopped for the snacks and ordered the lunch, I wanted to make sure that everything was delicious and abundant so that the participants felt that someone was looking out for them and caring for them.

There were many comments at the end of the day that everything ran smoothly, so that the participants were able to relax into each moment. Each hour of planning that went into the retreat contributed to its spiritual and peaceful atmosphere. There was warmth and connection, facilitated by people being able to let go and not worry about any details other than their own experience. I was truly blessed to extend my spirituality through hospitality. I think we don’t value enough the warmth and grace we can provide to ourselves and others in creating sacred space on the physical level. There is a teaching in Jewish mysticism that we come to understand God’s presence in our lives on four levels: physical, emotional, intellectual, and spiritual. The physical level is the first gateway, where everything begins. When we are hungry, too cold or too hot, uncomfortable, it is difficult to feel spiritual. It is often only when our physical needs are well-met that we can let our spirits soar.

As I looked out over the community of 60, I could see that they were comfortable. And my spirit soared.

Rabbi Wendy Spears is a community rabbi in Los Angeles. Find her at http://www.rabbiwendy.com