Coming soon: TCFS tours?

A few weeks ago, I was hanging out with an old friend of mine who has been living in New York for the past several years and is now back in town for grad school. The guy's mother is Protestant, his father is Catholic, and he was confirmed in the Church, though AFAIK has not attended services or received sacraments in quite a few years.

Lapsed-Catholic Friend: Hey, we should check out some of the synagogues in town!
Me, a bit confused: Um, ok, but... why?
LCF (who has a substantial architecture background and is getting a degree in urban planning): I really want to see what some of those places look like on the inside!
Me: Hey, anytime you want to go, just let us know. We're happy to show you around.

Apparently the first place he wants to see is Beth Halfpipe.

This should be fun.

Hey, we're trying

I doubt that Mrs. Yid or I will ever be nominated to be Chief Sephardic Rabbi of anything. Granted, there are plenty of legitimate reasons for that. But one definite strike against us is that while traditionally it's considered very important to engage in hiddur mitzvah, or "pretty up the mitzvah," around here we apply our shabby-cheap aesthetic to pretty much anything.

Case in point: our first sukkah, courtesy of Mrs. Yid, bless her heart, who, upon being kicked out of jury duty last week and having some time to kill (and knowing what day it was), decided to surprise yours truly with this in our backyard.

On Sukkot, we remember what it was like living in the desert as we sit on folding chairs of old.

It may not be much to look at, and if we're being sticklers about that whole s'chach thing then only that one teeny corner of it with the weeds on it was kosher, but darn it, it reminded me of why I love my wife. These aren't her traditions (heck, they're barely mine), but she's trying. It was also very sweet that she had used the chuppah poles from our wedding that her brother carved himself and lugged across several states. I look forward to getting many uses from those over the years.

After Mrs. Yid finished the sukkah, I went out for Thai food and we sat in the sukkah and ate a lovely, if slightly cramped, dinner. Then we cracked out some chumashim and studied the parsha for Sukkot (I found them incredibly dull; Mrs. Yid was entertained that they all seem to involve God demanding tons of food like a pregnant Queen Bee), and then we both giggled at the crazy prophecies of the Hatfarah portion in Zechariah (my favorite part is when he talks about the mountain splitting open; I couldn't help but think of this).

Anyway, yes, it's only the third Jewish holiday of 5772 and already the gravitas around here has dropped way down. But something's better than nothing. And besides, ours is a highly understanding God. We hope.

High Holidays Debrief

Mrs. Yid and I went to Temple GLBT for High Holidays for the second time-- the only time since college where we've gone back somewhere. A few minor issues aside, I enjoyed myself quite a bit. These last few years I've been unable for fast for health reasons, so this was the first time in a while that I fasted, and I have to say, this may have been the easiest time I've ever had of it.

One issue I've had over and over again at High Holiday services has been liturgy and transliteration-- while I prefer Hebrew to English, most place's machzorim tend to lack adequate transliteration, which means that people like me get stuck out in the cold. This has probably been one of the biggest problems I've had in trying to have engaging High Holiday experiences.

So, in keeping with the spirit of diving into things a little more, I bought my own transliterated machzor, courtesy of Joe Rosenstein at newsiddur.org. It didn't come until after Rosh Hashanah, but I marked it up ahead of time with sticky flags so that by the time Yom Kippur rolled around, I was set and ready to go.

I started the day by putting on Zayde's tefillin. I've been feeling slightly guilty about having them and not using them, but frequently the only days I actually get around to davening are Saturdays, when you're not supposed to use the darn things. Oh, irony. And it turns out you're not supposed to wear them on major holidays, either. So, a double-no-no-whammy for me. Oh well.

Because I was in a spiritual mood I put on Zayde's tefillin anyway, but I didn't say the brachot-- A because I knew I wasn't supposed to be davening with them on Shabbat or Yom Tov, and also because I hadn't remembered to write them down and I was trying not to use the computer. So instead I used them as a sort of mental focus for a short prayer asking for the joy and faith of my grandfather to be in my heart and mind for the day and to help center me during the fast. Halachic, perhaps not, but it felt good to have a physical connection to Zayde.

Once we were at shul, I found that being able to follow the service made a huge difference in my experience, and it was nice to be able to proceed more at my own pace as opposed to taking all my cues from the service leaders. Temple GLBT's machzor was made before I was born, so its transliteration is quite minimal (and my impression is that some pieces of the amidah are significantly abridged), so I wasn't always able to get through everything, but it was nice to have the option to continue if I wanted to. It was also fascinating to observe that for the most part, Temple GLBT was following a pretty traditional prayer structure. Not everything was in there, but people who would expect crazy liberal gay-friendly Reformies to have replaced everything with one long drum circle would have been pretty surprised.

Ever the critic, I have a few gripes. But in keeping with my resolution to try to be less of a bastard, I'm keeping it brief:

- There was no mincha service. It was entirely replaced by break-out sessions. There was a little bit of text study offered but for the most part it was meditation, arts & crafts, or social activism discussion group (the day's topic was "Racism: Bad?") It wound up being ok because we took the opportunity to take a much needed break and dose of sunlight. On the one hand, I kind of like having a break, but it was also a bit of a bummer that with all the alternative options being offered, no one thought to just offer a traditional-ish prayer service for the afternoon. Given how most of the rest of the day more or less stuck to the usual script, it seemed odd to me.

- No Leviticus 18. I was particularly miffed about this because Mrs. Yid and I had studied the parsha the night before and found a lot to debate in it, and I had been particularly interested in how a GLBT-focused shul would tackle it. Apparently, they tackle it by avoiding it entirely and switching it with the Holiness Code in Leviticus 19. I suppose I get it but it felt a little disappointing. Also, the Holiness Code is, IMO, fairly uninteresting. At least Lev 18 has some meaty things people can dig into and discuss.

- Teeny, teeny yizkor service. Lots of niggunim and build-up about how this is "one of the most meaningful services of the year," juxtaposed with very little time letting us actually pray the darn thing. This was particularly irksome to me as I am unfamiliar with the structure of yizkor and was trying to modify the blessings for my three grandparents.

- On a related note, I really wanted to say Mishiberach for my increasingly-ill grandmother, and am rather perturbed that none of her kids have the slightest idea of what her Hebrew name is. (I asked my great-aunt but all she could give was a wild guess.) I guess we're the only ones spending anytime in shuls that call people up for aliyot using both their parents' names.

All in all, I had a very good time. I may still be working on this community thing, but at least I'm feeling comfortable and "competent" when it comes with the actual prayers for the holiday.

Quotes:

Me: I got a new siddur and a new machzor, which is great, because it made it a lot easier to follow along in shul.

Abbot Yid: Um... all I caught out of that was "shul."

Our clothes Out-Jew us again

Mrs. Yid and I have been trying to stick to some sort of shul schedule now that I'm back from Europe, so we went to Evil Minion on Friday. As usual, davening went fine-- I really look forward to the sensation of everything falling away for a little bit when we get into the Carlebachian niggun singing, and it's just a very lovely experience.

However, as usual, things take a turn for the awkward when it's time for kiddush. Nothing super terrible happened this time, but there was this amusing interchange:

New Guy: Hi there, I'm Ari.
Mrs. Yid (straining to hear over the loud room conversation): What? Ori?
Ari: Nice to meet you, Ori!
Me: (Shaking my head that my life has turned into a Best of Abbot and Costello special) Hi, Ari.

Two minutes later:

Nice lady: Hello, where are you guys from?
Mrs. Yid: Down the block, actually.
NL: Really? With that nice tichel on, I would have guessed Israel!

Whoops. Apparently between my snazzy fedoras and trimmed beards and Mrs. Yid's new-ish practice of wearing headscarves and skirts, we are sending some interesting signals.

We talked about this afterwards at the very traditional post-davening sushi fest:

Me: Do we give off frumy vibes?
Mrs. Yid: I mean, under a very technical definition, I guess so... but the details are all wrong! This dress is totally not tznius! If someone who knew what they were looking for saw me, they'd think I was totally whoring it up.
Me: And I don't know of any tish that accepts gray straw stetsons as part of the dress code. (Pause) Maybe Breslov, I suppose.

This is not the first time this has happened. To a degree I think it just reflects our aesthetics and the way they intersect with our values/personalities (somewhat old-fashioned and low-key as compared to say, the uber avant-gard hipsters we have to step over to get to shul). I think there's something about the traditional/religious aesthetic that we actually find rather charming, classic, if you will. I know I personally just think hats, beards, and tall yarmulkes look cool. Mrs. Yid, to a degree, seems to be leaning a similar way in favoring skirts and dresses and snazzy headscarves. (That appears to be where the line ends, though; she says she has no interest in wearing a wig or shaving her head. Darn, I thought that could be a bonding thing!)

Though these incidents are extremely minor, I also worry that the way we dress, may, in Jewish settings, create assumptions about our observance level that not only aren't accurate, but are waaaaay far from accurate. You probably don't expect the couple who look like they just graduated from "Hip Chabad House" bootcamp to like bacon and intermarriage. We just don't want people to feel like we're being dishonest.

The best part of all of this, of course, is that when I told my parents this story last night, they couldn't get past the word "tickle."

Reflection

Cross-posted to the home blog.

It's been almost a whole year since my shul-angst post. In that time the job situation has mostly stayed the same, Shiksa Girlfriend has become Mrs. Yid, and we probably haven't been to shul more than a handful of times.

So what to make of this?

For starters, I think we've been very busy with the wedding and family stuff and so shul took a backseat. The other thing is that we spent a lot of time thinking about, and talking about, explicitly Jewish things we wanted to include in our marriage and present/future household and so I think neither of us were necessarily feeling particularly Jewishly deprived.

We also have been trying to be slightly more machmir about doing Shabbat regularly, which is nice.

Still, I think we are going to try to pick up the shul-reins some more and keep plugging away. This last Shabbat we went to Evil Minion again and it was perfectly nice. We haven't decided where to go for High Holidays this year, though we're leaning towards Temple GLBT (particularly since the rabbi that married us is a quasi-regular participant there). At some point we will finally bite the bullet and either try very hard to make some friends, or take a class or, heaven forbid, actually join a shul and see what it's like. Just because we feel like a super awkward special case doesn't mean we actually are.

And anyway, at least now that she has a ring on her finger, Mrs. Yid won't have to worry about people thinking she's only at shul for the (kosher) meat-market.

...Strangely enough, I never have this problem.

A Wake-Up Call

Shiksa Girlfriend and I had a talk recently where she said she was bummed out that we had let our synagogue attendance drop so dramatically. There were lots of reasons for this: she had been unemployed for eight months (yay new employment!), both of us had been stretched kind of thin emotionally and psychologically, and, to be honest, neither of us is all that social (me especially). She said she understood all that, but that she needs to feel like we're a little more part of a community, and that I'm frankly not helping. Specifically, she thinks my shul standards are too high.

I said that it was hard for me; that my parents weren't really joiners and that we weren't raised to be joiners, and that social/group dynamics have never really been my thing, partially because I never really needed to work at it. If I didn't want to be a part of something, I didn't have to. Which meant that I didn't bother.

She said that was all well and good but that if we go around expecting perfection out of every social interaction, especially in a Jewish context, that we'll never get a chance to find people that we do click with. I said that it felt like we had seen what our options were, and none felt quite right-- Evil Minion had great enthusiasm, but felt cliquey and awkward as soon as services were over. Beth Elderly had the exact opposite problem; they had so few new (or young) members that we felt like people were incapable of A- giving us some space to settle in, or B- not projecting various images of Young Adult Leadership TM on us. At this point I would feel guilty going back there simply because they gave us a trial membership for High Holidays and then we never went back after. They're probably still scratching their heads over it.

In a really interesting development, she also said that if this thing isn't resolved by the time we have kids, she will basically look for another community identity to raise them in (probably Unitarian Universalism, but maybe super-low-key cultural Christianity).

Whoah.

At first I was a little shocked at what felt like a trump card or low blow, but I realized that I should really have been thankful of how honest and direct she was being. She wants to share this Jewish thing with me, but I can't really expect her to be the leader when she isn't even Jewish. And unfortunately I'm not really knowledgeable (or comfortable) enough to stand alone or go trailblazing ahead, foraging into the tall grasslands of Jewish community.

So we compromised. We will be doing more shul visits this year. When SG's schedule gets ironed out, we will try to include more Saturday visits into the mix (which will also be a good way to get a fresh look at the different shuls in town). We've already made arrangements for High Holidays at Temple GLBT. This will be our first holidays with them.

Four years of High Holidays in four different shuls. I wonder if it's us? Or them? Or both.

What's in Your Haggadah?

Upon graduating from college, Shiksa Girlfriend and I found ourselves with some extra time on our hands. She being the industrious one quickly became gainfully employed. I being a tad more distractable, took longer. Luckily, some of this free time happened to coincide with the weeks leading up to Passover season, and so I decided to take it upon myself to write my own Haggadah for Passover.

That was three years ago. Every year we've done a seder (last year we did two), and it's always been tons of fun. We also keep Passover for the whole eight days, though, to be perfectly honest, we don't keep the restrictions on kitniyot, on the grounds of it being dumb as hell. (Incidentally, I'd like to give a simultaneous thank you and apology to Rabbi David Bar-Hayim, whose ruling that Ashkenazim in Israel should be exempt from the anti-kitniyot minhag have inspired me to misquote him three years running as abolishing the whole stupid process altogether)

Obviously, ignoring kitniyot and only avoiding grains gives us quite a bit more flexibility in our practice. For instance, in addition to old standards like roast chicken and fish, our first night menu will also include Vietnamese Salad Rolls. (Second night will be a bit more traditional-- to give Mama Yid a feeling of home, we're even making chopped chicken liver. Yes, Shiksa Girlfriend says it tastes like cat food, but what the hell, it's once a year.)

As people might guess, my flexible approach to Passover impacts more than just the menu. My first Haggadah was fairly traditional, if only because I wanted to have a chance to see what it was like with "everything" in there. I even transliterated the complete (short version) of Birkat HaMazon from the B'Kol Echad. But we also tried to keep things punchy and fun-- since I'm one of the only Jews there, I don't really need to show off. And I'd rather not have our guests feel like they're going to a theology lecture/ sociology in religion workshop. I see Passover as Jewish Thanksgiving with some highly specific traditions and stories. I'm cool with that.

Continuing the theme of the evolving Haggadah, the new version has a few changes, mostly designed to make things a little shorter. I took out "Pour Out Our Wrath/Love" section (too long and just generally odd) and cut Birkat down to a third, since the post-food stuff has tended to be where people get lost. SG wanted to cut Miriam's Well, but I lobbied to keep it in (I think the Elijah/Miriam contrast is kind of cool). We've also played a little bit with our Exodus story. Oh, and at SG's insistence, I cut Adir Hu down to only five verses, rather than the whole eight. I'm sure if God is as mighty as the song says, he won't mind.

Anyway, here is the Maggid section of our Smart Ass Haggadah Version 2.0. Enjoy and have a great Passover.

The Story of the Exodus

Once there was a famine in the land of Canaan. The Hebrews’ cattle had no grass to eat.

Cow #1: I’m starving. Moo.

Cow #2: I’m so hungry I could eat a horse. Moo.

Cow #1: I should eat you for that. Moo.

The Hebrews weren’t doing too well, either.

Asher: Hey, Dad, I’m hungry!

Naftali: Daaaad! We’re out of dates…and oil…and grain… and everything else!

Jacob: Kids, stop whining! Your brother Joseph is a big shot in Egypt. And, I hear they have food. Let’s go visit him for a while.

Jacob’s Kids: Yay!

Jacob: It’s a long way there, so use the bathroom first. I’m not stopping every five minutes.

In Egypt:

Joseph: Estranged family? What a surprise! Of course I’ll be glad to help out…Who wants dinner?

Generations passed and the Hebrews remained in Egypt. A new king came to power who mistrusted the strangers in his country.

Pharaoh: These Hebrews are a threat to our way of life. Let’s enslave them and use them to build things.

Hebrew #1: I wish this new pharaoh would just die!

Hebrew #2: Wouldn’t that just create more work for us?

Egyptian laborers: Hey, they’re taking our jobs!

Despite the harsh conditions of slavery, the Hebrews continued to grow in numbers. Fearing a slave rebellion, the Pharaoh ordered that the royal midwives to kill any male Hebrew infants at birth.

Pharaoh: Look here midwives, you get to be the front line for population control. I’m counting on you to keep the numbers down.

Shifrah and Puah: We hear and obey, oh great Pharaoh.
But they did not.

Pharaoh: Hey, why are there so many baby boys? I told you to take care of that.

Shifrah: By the time we get there…

Puah: They’ve squirted the little guys out.

Shifrah: And then it’s back to work at the pyramids. They’re really a remarkable people, sir.

The Pharaoh was annoyed.

Pharaoh: All Hebrew boys get dumped in the river from now on, got it?

One couple, named Amram and Yocheved, followed the decree to the letter.

Yocheved: I’m done waterproofing the basket. Let’s go drop the kid off.

Amram: God willing, the crocodiles have already eaten someone today.

Yocheved: Farewell, baby! Don’t rock the boat...basket!

The baby’s sister Miriam kept an eye on the basket as it drifted downstream.

Pharaoh’s daughter: Hey! What’s in that thing? It could be valuable. A baby! Aww, you’re so cute and pathetic.

Miriam: Hey Princess!

Pharaoh’s daughter: Yes?

Miriam: You won’t be able to nurse that kid; it’ll ruin your figure. Besides, he’s a Hebrew. They need special food, like goldfish. I’ll go find you a Hebrew nurse. Here, how about my Mom? She’s even nursing.

Pharaoh's daughter: Wow, that’s just plain convenient!

Miriam: Hmm, these Egyptians aren’t too bright.

Yocheved: Yeah, we should remember this.

The Pharaoh's daughter raised the baby as her own son, naming him Moshe, or Moses, because she “drew him from water.”

Pharaoh’s daughter: My first choice was Stinky, but Miriam said that was dumb!

Moses grew up as a member of the royal family. One day Moses saw an overseer abusing a slave.

Overseer: Lazy swine. Taste my whip.

Slave: Ow.

Moses: Not cool.

Moses killed the Egyptian and buried him in the sand.

Moses: Enjoy your sand-wich! Ha-Ha-Ha!

Slave: Ow.

The next day, Moses saw two Hebrews fighting. One of them hit the other.

Moses: Hey, quit it.

Slave: Who are you to judge us? Will you kill me like you did the Egyptian?

Moses: Crap.

With the slaves talking about Moses’ homicidal freak-out, word eventually got back to Pharaoh.

Pharaoh: Die, killer.

Moses: I think a strategic retreat is in order.

Moses ran away to the land of Midian.

Moses: I’m tired and thirsty and hungry and bored. Hey, a well. Hooray! One of my many problems is solved!

While Moses was enjoying the well’s cool water, some girls approached.

Girls: Get away from our well, weirdo.

Moses: Sorry.

Suddenly some shepherds tried to chase them away.

Shepherd: No girls allowed. This water is reserved for important creatures, like goats.

Moses: Back off!

Girls: Our hero!

Moses: You’re well-come.

Girls: Ow.

The girls told their father Jethro all about the mysterious stranger.

Jethro: And he didn’t even ask for anything in return?

Girls: No, he was a perfect gentleman.

Jethro: Sounds suspicious.

Jethro offered Moses his daughter Tzipporah.

Moses (happy): Thanks, Dad!

Tzipporah (less happy): …Thanks… Dad.

While tending his flock, Moses saw a cool pyrotechnic show in the form of a bush.

Moses: Cool, it doesn’t burn up.

Bush: But that’s not all! If you act right now you’ll get the chance to REDEEM YOUR PEOPLE!

Moses: Doesn’t burn up and talks, eh? This is one heck of a bush.

Bush: Actually, I’m God manifested in a bush.

Moses: Whatever you say, O mighty Bush.

Bush: Look, Moe, you really need to help your people.

Moses: But I have things really good here. I have a kid now, and Tzipporah’s got the tent set up just the way I like it.

Bush: I have heard my people’s cries, and have come to deliver them from the Egyptians. And you’re going to help. You need to go talk to the Pharaoh.

Moses: Why me? The Hebrews won’t follow me.

Bush: Tell them the God of their fathers sent you, and that He said He’s going to get them out of this. And if the Pharaoh does not release you, I will deal with him, and then he will let you go.

Moses: Why don’t you just go ahead and do that right now and leave me out of it?

Bush: What’s that in your hand?

Moses: My walking-stick.

Bush: Really? Put it on the ground.

The stick turned into a serpent.

Moses: Holy crap! A talking wizard-demon bush!

Bush: Pick it up, stupid.

Moses picked it up, and the stick changed back.

Bush: Tell them of this sign, and they will believe.

Moses: First, don’t do ever that again. Second, I’m a really bad public speaker. I’m not the one you want to lead a popular liberation movement.

Bush: You’re starting to annoy me. Your brother Aaron was head of the local Hebrew Slave Debating Society. Use him

Moses: Brother? Since when?

Aaron: Since five seconds ago. Hi there.

Bush: Put your words in his mouth and he’ll do the rest.

Moses: That doesn’t seem very honest.

Bush: Welcome to politics.

Moses: What about the people that wanted to kill me?

Bush: Don’t worry, they’re all dead. There’s a new Pharaoh in charge now.

Moses: Right, because we all remember how good things got the last time that happened.

Moses returned to Egypt, where he and Aaron spoke to the elders of the people.

Aaron: Um… Moses says… sorry, God says… that we’re getting out of here. Spread the word, guys.

Moses: And you’re the good speaker?

Aaron: It’s a charisma thing.

The brothers went to the new Pharaoh to explain why he should let the Hebrews go.

Aaron: And if you look at chart F, you can see that if you’d divert your workforce from building huge triangles back to farming, your economy actually wouldn’t suffer that much.

Moses: So what do you think?

Pharaoh: Um… how about… no?

Moses: But, look, we’ve got a creepy staff-snake thing! Show him, Aaron!

Pharaoh: Not impressed. My court magicians can do that.

Aaron: But my staff-snake just ate theirs.

Pharaoh: That just makes your snake a bully.

Moses: You’ll be sorry.

There followed Ten Plagues:

The river turned into blood.

Pharaoh: Red is my favorite color.

The land was overrun by frogs.

Pharaoh: I find the ribbit sound soothing.

Everyone got lice.

Pharaoh: I’m already bald.

A swarm of flies and wild beasts attacked the Egyptians.

Pharaoh: No two ways about it, this one sucks. But still, no.

A disease exterminated the Egyptians’ livestock.

Pharaoh: Yum… grain.

Boils appeared on everyone’s skin.

Pharaoh: Hold my appointments for a while.

Fiery hail flew down from the sky.

Pharaoh: Eep. I hope that’s a comet.

Locusts ate the Egyptians’ crops.

Pharaoh: I sense my options are becoming limited.

Darkness covered the land.

Pharaoh: At least no one can see how miserable we are.

Several times the Pharaoh agreed to let the Hebrews go so Moses would stop the plagues, but then he always broke his word.

Moses: What kind of maniac thinks it’s a good idea to jerk around people that can whip up fiery hail?

The last plague was the death of the firstborn, which would affect both men and beast.

The Hebrews spread lamb’s blood over their homes so the Angel of Death would pass by their homes and leave their kids alone.

Moses: He’s got to give in now.

God: Oh, he’d like to, but I’m hardening his heart.

Moses: What? Why? I thought the point was for us to get out of here.

God: I like to show off. This way everyone will get to see all the cool ideas I planned.

Moses: You’re kind of nuts.

The Pharaoh, yet again, said no.

Pharaoh: Joke’s on you, stupid! All of our livestock are already dead.

Moses: I hope your son thinks it’s funny.

The Pharaoh finally gave in, and let the Hebrews go.

Pharaoh: Your God sucks, and so do you. I never want to see any of you people again. Get out of my sight.

Moses: Consider us gone.

The Hebrews packed in a hurry. They were so worried the Pharaoh would change his mind again that they didn’t leave time for their bread to rise. That is why we eat matzah on Passover.

All future Jews: Thanks a lot.

The Hebrews were not the only ones to leave Egypt. A “mixed multitude” went with them.

Moses: Plenty of room on the freedom train!

Mixed multitude: This cracker is awful. I thought Jews made tasty bread. What gives?

Hebrews: Quiet, goyim.

Even the Pharaoh’s daughter came with them, changing her title (bat-Pharaoh), for the name Batya (daughter of God).

Batya: My little Moses, all grown up!

Yocheved: Hey!

Sure enough, the Pharaoh changed his mind and chased after the Hebrews with his army of six hundred chariots, catching up with them at the Sea of Reeds.

Hebrew #1: Thanks a lot, Moses.

Hebrew #2: Why take us out of Egypt just to get us killed?

Hebrew #3: First Matzah, now this!

Moses: Don’t worry. God will fight for us. This is the last you will see of any of these Egyptians. Hey, God! Little help?

God: No problem, I’ve got this.

Moses: You’ll part the sea?

God: Even better. I’ll part the sea, then harden Pharaoh’s heart again so they chase after you and all die.

Moses: What? No, I mean, we don’t need you to do that. Just help us escape.

God: I told you, I’ll take care of this. The Egyptians will know that I…AM…GOD.

God told Moses to lift his staff. He did, and the sea parted.

Moses: If you turn into a snake right now, I’m quitting.

The Hebrews raced across the sea-bed and made it to the other side. Then the Egyptians came after them.

Pharaoh: Let’s go after them for some reason! Charge!

Then God told Moses to lift his staff again. He did, and the waters returned. The Egyptians were gone.

Moses: …

The Hebrews celebrated their freedom and danced and sang.

Miriam: God is my strength and song, and He is become my salvation…God is a man of war, God is His name. Pharaoh's chariots and his host has He cast into the sea, and his chosen captains are sunk in the Red Sea… You did blow with Your wind, the sea covered them; they sank as lead in the mighty waters. Who is like You, O God, among the mighty? Who is like You, glorious in holiness, fearful in praises, doing wonders? ...You in Your love have led the people that You have redeemed; You have guided them in Your strength to Your holy place… God shall reign for ever and ever! (Exodus 15:11-18)

While the Hebrews danced, the angels in Heaven wished to join them. But God denied their request.

God: These, too, are my creatures drowning in the sea! And you would celebrate this? What’s wrong with you?

* * *
The Rabbis taught that it is wrong to celebrate the death of anyone, even your enemy. “Rejoice not when your enemy falls, and let not your heart be glad when he stumbles.” (Proverbs 24:17) That is why we are commanded to remove one drop of wine for each plague. We cannot celebrate “with a full cup” when our freedom came through the suffering of others. There is a fast the day before Passover known as the Fast of the Firstborn. A tradition says the firstborn Hebrews fasted before the Exodus because they were still not convinced they were holy enough to merit saving. Perhaps the fast also serves to remind us of the various things we still, and may always, need to atone for.

Chappy Chags

Shiksa Girlfriend and I moved over the summer, so we decided to take advantage of our new location and go to Evil Minion for High Holidays. Rosh Hashanah was pretty nice, except that Evil Minion, which usually provides excellent transliterations for Shabbos, decided to go an alternate route with the Birnbaum machzor, which provides... none. I attempted to follow along the best I could with my Mishkan T'Filah, but for bizarre reasons there are large chunks of the service which aren't in there and which I didn't even know I was missing (psalm of the day? since when?). That was kind of frustrating. The singing was nice, and the shofar blasts were great, but needless to say, we skipped out on Musaf-- for me, the money-quote is always, "Longest Amidah of the year." Sorry, but there's no way I'm sticking around for that, particularly when I can't even follow along. So we left early and went grocery shopping instead.

Fast-forward to Yom Kippur. Evil Minion was set up at a secret location (another shul sanctuary, while that shul in turn had been displaced to yet another secret location-- yay High Holiday mysteries) and we were looking forward to going. Unfortunately, I came down with this flu-bronchitis-death rattle a few days before, which really took a giant crap on my holiday. Fun times included chatting with my parents and trying to convince them that no, I hadn't planned on fasting while sick. No, really.

Abbot Yid: You'd better not fast.

Me: I wasn't planning on it. I'm bummed, but it's fine.

Abbot Yid: Well... good. Cause I'm telling you, God doesn't care. And even the most hard-ass rabbi would tell you what I'm telling you. Got it?

Me: Yes, just like I did the first time.

Abbot Yid: Seriously, don't do it.

Me: Fine!

It was nice to see some old friends for the holiday (though my persistent hacking made it hard to daven out loud, much less kibbitz). It was very surreal to have to pay so much attention to my breathing/voice volume during prayer to avoid setting off my cough.

The singing was quite impressive-- the Minioneers split the davening up six or seven ways so you got to hear a nice spread. Oh, and because having no functional machzor had sucked so hard on Rosh Hashanah, Shiksa Girlfriend and I sped to the internet and got... much to my chagrin... a transliterated Art Scroll Yom Kippur Machzor. Sigh, I have drunk the Art Scroll kool-aid. Oh well, at least I got a funny post out of it.

Incidentally, not fasting on YK (for the first time in ten years) was a very odd sensation. I kind of felt like I had a bit of an inferiority complex, and then I tried to compensate by not eating a lot during the day... things got kind of weird by the end.

It has come to my and SG's attention that this is our fourth year together, and our fourth year celebrating High Holidays in a different shul. Wandering Jews, indeed.

Reappraising

I happened to be chatting up a colleague and mentioned my and Shiksa Girlfriend's ongoing (not so often these days, though) shul-search. She said that she and her husband went to a place that they liked, and invited us to join them. Knowing that SG was restless to shul-it-up more, I accepted.

It turns out we were heading back where we started: Temple Touched By God. We got there just in time for the later service, aka the young adult meat market. We found my colleague and her hubby. Hey, Mishkan T'filahs! Awesome, this is a lot better than last time when they had weird self-published and poorly transliterated booklets. Also, I can't recall exactly, but I felt like they included a lot more Hebrew this time around, probably because now everyone can follow along.

There are still style issues that turn me off: I don't really feel the need for a 5-piece band for Shabbos (especially when two are mandolins), neither am I really interested in us all pretending to be Bob Marley as we try to combine "Redemption Song" with "Mi Chamocha"-- which seemed especially tacky with an African rabbi visiting for Shabbos. Incidentally, cool guests with interesting stories are a big plus; though I would have liked someone, at some point, to have given an actual drash. I didn't expect the visiting rabbi to give one, per se, but all the regular rabbi seemed to want to talk about was the shul's upcoming fundraiser for... well, that part they never quite explained. Also, SG commented that given the size of the crowd (easily 200 people), they "sang like wusses." I said that I think part of it has to do with the fact that when there's a whole band, singers with microphones, and quasi-improvised songs that the cantor didn't bother to give anyone the words to, people don't feel like they're being asked to sing as much being given the opportunity to accompany the "professionals." Certainly a far cry from Evil Minion, or even Temple GLBT.

Oh yeah- has anyone ever heard this song? Does anyone know what it's about? Because a congregant sang it, super-emotionally, like she was having a stroke or something, and not only was that super-weird, but the lyrics were super duper confusing.

From a distance the world looks blue and green,
and the snow-capped mountains white.
From a distance the ocean meets the stream,
and the eagle takes to flight.

From a distance, there is harmony,
and it echoes through the land.
It's the voice of hope, it's the voice of peace,
it's the voice of every man.

From a distance we all have enough,
and no one is in need.
And there are no guns, no bombs, and no disease,
no hungry mouths to feed.

From a distance we are instruments
marching in a common band.
Playing songs of hope, playing songs of peace.
They're the songs of every man.
God is watching us. God is watching us.
God is watching us from a distance.

From a distance you look like my friend,
even though we are at war.
From a distance I just cannot comprehend
what all this fighting is for.

From a distance there is harmony,
and it echoes through the land.
And it's the hope of hopes, it's the love of loves,
it's the heart of every man.

It's the hope of hopes, it's the love of loves.
This is the song of every man.
And God is watching us, God is watching us,
God is watching us from a distance.
Oh, God is watching us, God is watching.
God is watching us from a distance.

Is "distance" good or bad? Isn't the whole point of this song essentially that the reason things are bad (the visiting rabbi had just talked about growing up without running water and about how he was trying to raise money to make sure everyone in his village had mosquito nets to protect them from malaria) because God is too far away and assumes we're just fine? I can't tell if I'm missing the point here, or if everybody else was.

I guess what it comes down to is that when Touched By God actually does Jewish things, like Hebrew, I can appreciate the creative touches. Now that I have more familiarity with a traditional service and I'm comfortable with the structures of prayer, I don't mind what tune we use, or even if we skip around a little. When it comes to outright borrowing or slapping together disparate sources that have nothing to do with each other, much less connections with the service or ritual, things get a little trickier for me. I don't go to shul to hear people sing Bette Middler or Bob Marley songs. I don't object to people doing it, but that's not why I'm there.

Still, at least when we left this time, we didn't leave mad or confused. Maybe a little smug, but hey, it's a start. Will we make it our regular stomping grounds? Probably not. But I could see us going back periodically.

... No chance of giving B'Nei Hippy another try, though.

Shul Awkwardness

I feel very conflicted about Beth Elderly. On the one hand, they are some very nice folks, and certainly very welcoming to us. On the other hand, they're starting to treat us like semi-disappointing wayward grandchildren. I suppose this is partially our fault for coming back quasi-often but not fully committing to the shul-- they must think we just like to tease them.

Two weeks ago, walking to my night school class I bump into a self-proclaimed shul mucky muck I'll call Ezekiel. Ezekiel has repeatedly glommed onto me at shul, used-car-salesman style, trying to either play Jewish geography (we fail), or to entice me, not very subtly, into making a bigger shul commitment. Despite having met over a half-dozen times, he again forgets my name, but recognizes me thanks to my resemblance to Gimli with a stetson. Not wanting to pass up this moment of destiny, he booms through the subway station, "Hey guy from Beth Elderly!" Funny, I thought HE was the guy from Beth Elderly, I'm just a twenty-something who occasionally drops by. We kibbitz for a while and then he asks why he hasn't seen me in a while. I tell him we've been busy and exhausted from crazy schedules. The fact that getting there requires a 2-train trip spanning almost an hour does not improve its standing. He asks if there's anything the shul can do to make itself "more of a priority for you." Um, no, I just said there was nothing the shul was doing wrong, and as I don't expect it to install rocket launchers to its foundation anytime soon to fly over to my apartment for a "quickie minyan", I think we're just going to have to settle for quasi-regular attendance.

Later that week, we went to Beth Elderly, which as a plus side is close to the ocean, which at least gives us something pretty to watch while we're waiting for services to start. They were trying some new tunes that night, which I liked in theory, however in practice the cantor's dirge-style is very uninspiring, and the rabbi's tone-deafness does not really help. At one point someone tried singing "Shalom Aleichem" to the Carlebach melody but it broke down halfway through. The rabbi also tried to modify a negro "Christian spiritual" (redundant?) but had neglected to remember the melody- he urged us all to youtube it after Shabbos, though. (Supposedly it connected with the Parsha that week, which discussed building the Mishkan.) Undaunted, we pressed on through for a painful few minutes-- I also liked how he seemed concerned that some congregants might be weirded out by the idea of singing "Christian" lyrics, so he encouraged anyone who wanted to sing Hasidic niggun style to do so.

After services, Shiska Girlfriend got blindsided by Shul VP, about whom observations have been previously made. He cornered her and asked her for "better contact info." She said he already had it. He countered by saying, clearly not, because you haven't been showing up to our events! Touche, Mr. Vice President. SG gave him the same spiel I had given Ezekiel a few days earlier. He had another trick up his sleeve- he offered to organize a carpool for us! No, really, that's... ok. Very nice, but also kind of... creepy?

Finally, one of the nice old shul ladies- all 4'5" of her, with the cutest wispy goatee you ever will see, sidled up to me after the potluck and mentioned how nice it was to see us again. "Always a pleasure," I replied. "You know, you should come by more often- not just for potluck, but more services, too. Don't worry, we always have food- Judaism is the religion of the stomach!"

Great, a food bribe! Reminds me of when a classmate tried to coerce me into taking her to a middle-school dance by offering me a Kit-Kat. As an aside, this proposal would be slightly more impressive if most of the foodstuffs here didn't usually consist of variations on cold penne salad.

Look, people, the 30 pairs of grandparents I never had or really needed, you're nice folks (except for a few of your cranks-- but a few of those seem to pop up everywhere, don't they?)and we will continue to keep you in the rotation-- in fact, these days you're essentially the de facto shul for us, tied with Evil Minion. But as anyone on the dating scene knows, desperation is not very attractive. We like that you pay attention to us and are so eager to welcome us into the tent, particularly given Shiska Girlfriend's Tzipporah-like status. But we are not in a position to save your shul. We are not your pioneer "New Guard" that can take over kiruv for you as you attempt to broaden your target demographic to the under-40 crowd. We are not experts in youth culture, "hip"-ness, or, for that matter, Shlomo Carlebach melodies. We wish you the best and are hoping to come along for the ride. But we're in our twenties and you're all... decidedly not. We are not the leaders you're looking for. Get it together and take a few steps back, please.