Mikdash m'at and early Rabbinic Judaism

Chapter 8 describes a shift toward the development of rabbinic Judaism that happens after the fall of the Temple. The characteristics of rabbinic Judaism are much more familiar to me and relatable to my own experiences than the practices of animal sacrifices in the time of the Temple. In particular, the reading highlights a shift in recognizing God’s presence being found whenever a group of Jews studied Torah together or prayed.

The reading also discusses the practicing of mitzvoth (good deeds, charity, compassion, loving kindness) rather than animal sacrifice, which I relate much more to Jewish practice today.

 I especially appreciated the section on page 166 that discussed how the home (mikdash m’at, small sanctuary) came to replace the Temple. Home ritual is such an important part of my practice of Judaism, which includes our weekly Shabbat meal. For example, Shabbat meal is a series of blessings, hand washing, candle lighting and a special meal. It is much more elaborate than just having a nice meal together. It takes me awhile to get everything planned and prepared. Shabbat observance is a day of rest and to study the Torah, this was also discussed in the reading. Therefore, the home is a very important place, not only the synagogue, in contemporary Judaism. It was interesting for me to read about the early emergence of rabbinic Judaism in chapter 8 for these reasons.

In the other two chapters, the history on Christian history was also familiar. I was deeply saddened by the section that described Constantius II’s anti-Semitic legislation that forbade Christians to convert to Judaism and that described Jews as “savage,” “abominable,” and “blasphemous.” The section that described the 66,555 Christians that died when the Persian army attacked Jerusalem also saddened me. 

Graffiti in Israel/Palestine

This is an article from Tikkun magazine about graffiti for peace in Israel/Palestine. Of possible interest....Here is the site: http://www.tikkun.org/nextgen/peace-and-conflict-through-graffiti-in-israelpalestine

Peace and Conflict through Graffiti in Israel/Palestine

by Adam Heffez
September 24, 2012

Graffiti is the most anonymous, intimate expression of how people in Israel/Palestine interact with their reality. The images below chronicle my journey in search of hope and understanding throughout this war-trodden region, narrated in graffiti.

Tel Aviv. The transliteration of the blue text is ‘Am Yisrael Chai’ (The Nation of Israel lives).

The words Am Yisrael Chai (the Nation of Israel lives) are packed with meaning and emotion for Israelis, who rejoice in the existence of the State of Israel, the ultimate triumph over attempts to annihilate the Jewish people throughout their history. The red image beside it negates the patriotic statement with a hammer smashing the Magen David (Star of David).

Graffiti engages competing Israeli and Palestinian voices in a conversation through art—between Am Yisrael Chai on one end, and the battered Magen David on the other. Such images tell a story of two rival societies narrated through their graffiti, one of the most uncensored expressions of their future hopes. Graffiti artists are not people with money, power, and influence, but rather common individuals trying to shape their surroundings, make sense of their lives, and find an outlet for anger and frustration. The images I share here do not come from the soapbox of the elite, but rather from the souls of citizens.

The Florentin neighborhood of Tel Aviv. The text says ‘Jews and Arabs refuse to be enemies.’

This graffiti advocates for a peaceful future in which Jews and Arabs refuse to be enemies. As Gal Alon, a resident of the hipster Tel Aviv neighborhood of Florentin says, Jews and Arabs cannot just tolerate each other. “To tolerate” in Hebrew comes from the verb “to suffer” (לובסל). “We will remain enemies unless we upgrade ‘tolerance’ into a ‘brotherhood.’”

West Jerusalem. The text says ‘Derech eretz (respectful treatment of others) came before the Torah.’

Near a furiously religious neighborhood of West Jerusalem, this graffiti calls on Jews to interact well with each other and not just with God. The Torah was not made to be a constitution for a nation. It came down to the Jewish people to constitute a way of life for a community free of responsibility for internal and external security, an economy, a military, minorities, and other issues. It was easier for Jews to embracederech eretz when this was assumed to mean treatment of fellow Jews in a respectful way.

The existence of Israel raises an important question: how do Jews move from the Torah of the ghettos of Europe—where they didn’t have control over any of these issues—to the Torah of the state? The saying “Respectful treatment of others takes precedence to the Torah,” which comes from the midrash(interpretations of Jewish texts), suggests that people cannot personify the Torah until they demonstrate respectful treatment in everything that they do. This is a challenge to some segments of the orthodox community who at times seem insensitive to their fellow Jews who are not practicing the commands (mitzvot) of Torah. But it might equally be a challenge to those secular Jews who are so critical of the orthodox lack of tolerance, but seem at times oblivious to the cries of pain of their fellow Israeli citizens who are Palestinians, not to mention those who live under Israeli occupation.

Nahlaot, West Jerusalem.

The text in this image reads:

As long as deep in the heart
The human soul yearns
Inside, backwards, and forward,
To justice, an eye sees
Our hope will not be lost
The hope of the dawn of days
To be cool in our land
The land of [crossed out] and Israelis

Graffiti not only expresses peaceful ideas about how Jews should relate to one another, but also about how they should relate to the Arab “Other.” The artist of this image rewrites the lyrics of Israel’s national anthem, HaTikvah (The Hope), so that they don’t alienate the one-fifth of the country’s citizens who are Arab. The official version of the anthem speaks of the yearning of the “Jewish soul” for “Zion.” This modified version speaks of the yearning of the “human soul” for “justice.” Thus, this graffiti proposes more inclusive lyrics so that HaTikvah can be sung with pride by all of Israel’s citizens.

Changing HaTikvah to include the Arab minority—to be a universal Israeli anthem rather than just a Jewish Israeli one—calls into question the country’s identity as a “Jewish” state. This graffiti reflects the belief that Israel should not compromise its democratic character for the sake of preserving its “Jewishness.”

Outside the Garden Tomb, believed by some to be the site of the burial and resurrection of Jesus, near Damascus Gate, East Jerusalem. The text says ‘Invitation to (interreligious) dialogue.’

It is an enduring tragedy that Jerusalem, regarded by Jews as the “City of Peace” and by Muslims asal’Quds (the holy), has so often been a city of war—from biblical times, to the Crusaders, and until the present day. The city of an all-good, all-merciful and all-just God has become the vortex of an unrelenting conflict. As this graffiti in East Jerusalem suggests, while religion complicates the problem, it can also inspire a solution.

Inside a bomb shelter in Sderot.

Since 2005, when Israel unilaterally evicted and dismantled its Gaza settlements in what is called the “disengagement,” thousands of low-precision rockets have been fired on Sderot and the surrounding area. These rockets are called “Qassams,” named after the military arm of Hamas that launches them, the Izz ad-Din al-Qassam Brigades. When the words “Code Red” blast on the loudspeakers, residents have only fifteen seconds to get to a shelter before a Qassam explodes. Inside the striking zone of these rockets, it is better Code Red than dead.

There is no place more apt to call for “Peace Please” than inside a bomb shelter. Sderot and Gaza, two traumatized neighbors, will one day require one peace.

Louis Promenade, Mount Carmel, Haifa.

On one of the most serene promenades in Israel, etched into the slope of Haifa’s Mount Carmel, a graffiti equates hate with pigs, an animal that is not Kosher, and thus not allowed.

“Israelis can’t just physically survive,” said Naomi Chazan, a former member of the Knesset. “Survival is dependent on the continuation of our values: the acceptance of others—Arab and Jewish—democracy, and religious tolerance.”

Haifa was the final stop on my journey in search of hope and understanding, narrated through graffiti—a form of public testimony by Israelis and Palestinians of the realities in which they live. Their walls tell the story of two peoples trying to make sense of their tangled world.

Adam G. Heffez is a writer and photographer based in Chicago. Last year, he lived in Israel as a Dorot fellow.

Tu B'Shvat Pictures near Jerusalem from the 1930s

The Jewish holiday, Tu B'Shvat, new year of the trees, is this weekend and I found this article with old pictures of Tu B'Shvat being celebrated around Jerusalem that I thought might be of interest. The article and the other pictures can be found on Jpost at http://www.jpost.com/Features/InThespotlight/Article.aspx?id=300831.

Israeli history photo of the week: Tu Bishvat

By LENNY BEN-DAVID

01/24/2013 15:55

JPost special feature: A Library of Congress collection of photographs that document Israel before the creation of the state.

Tu Bishvat Photo: American Colony-Jerusalem-Photo Dept.

The Library of Congress has recently digitalized a collection of over 10,000 photographs, taken by the "American Colony" in Jerusalem, a group of Christian utopians who lived in Jerusalem between 1881 and the 1940s. The photographers returned to the US, and bequeathed their massive collection to the Library of Congress in 1978. The collection includes Winston Churchill's visit to Jerusalem, Jewish expulsions from the Old City during Arab riots, and the building of Tel Aviv.

The Jewish National Fund was established in 1901 to purchase and develop land in the Holy Land.

One major activity of the JNF, or in Hebrew the Keren Kayemet LeYisrael, was the planting of trees on Jewish-owned land in Palestine. Many a Jewish home had the iconic JNF blue charity box, or pushke, in order to buy trees.  In its history, the JNF is responsible for planting almost a quarter of a billion trees.

Tu Bishvat       1 OF 7

American Colony-Jerusalem-Photo Dept. 

Reforested hills along the road from Jaffa to Jerusalem, near Bab el-Wad, or Sha'ar HaGuy (circa 1930)

Tu Bishvat       7 OF 7

American Colony-Jerusalem-Photo Dept. 

The trees of Eretz Yisrael



The photographers of the American Colony recorded the JNF's efforts.

 The day chosen for school children and volunteers to go out to the fields and barren hilltops to plant trees was Tu B'Shvat, the 15th day of the Hebrew month of Shvat, a date assigned thousands of years ago in the Mishna for the purposes of determining the age of a tree and its tithing requirements.

Indeed, the date usually coincides with the first blossoms on the almond trees in Israel.

Today, Tu B'Shvat is commemorated as a combination of Arbor Day, environment-protection day, a kibbutz agricultural holiday, and, of course, a day for school outings and plantings.

Postscript

In 1935, the Jews of Britain and the JNF established a "Jubilee Forest" near Nazareth.  According to the Jewish Telegraph Agency's account at the time, an "oriental cypress tree presented by King George V of England to the Jubilee Forest in the hills of Nazareth will be formally planted by High Commissioner Sir Arthur Grenfell Wauchope on December 19."

"The Jubilee Forest is British Jewry's mark of loyalty and devotion to the throne, expressed on the occasion of the royal couple's twenty-fifth jubilee. It will cover a large area of desolate and barren land on the hills of Nazareth which in ancient times were famed for their forest beauty. The forest constitutes the most important effort in reforestation of the Holy Land."

"The tree shipped by King George was removed from Windsor Great Park in London, where it was the only one of its kind. It is the first ever to have been shipped from England to Palestine."

More photos can be viewed athttp://www.israeldailypicture.com

Of posible interest...

Melton Double Header Program

Monday, February 11, 2013 - 7:00pm - 9:00pm

Columbus JCC, 1125 College Ave.

Melton Double Header Program:

Pico Kosher: Kashrut in an Orthodox Los Angeles NeighborhoodJody Myers, Professor of Religious Studies and Jewish Studies Program Coordinator, California State University, Northridge

What is the relationship between what we eat and who we are? Professor Jody Myers (California State University Northridge) is researching how the kosher laws are studied and practiced in the schools, stores, restaurants and homes of the Pico-Robertson neighborhood of Los Angeles. Come hear about the food, ideas, and social life of this fascinating community, and what they can tell us about modern Jewish life.

Christian Scholars and Hebrew Books: Why Christians Studied Jewish Texts in the Renaissance

Stephen Burnett
Associate Professor of Classics and Religious Studies
University of Nebraska

Only a few Christian scholars could read the Hebrew Bible in 1500. By 1600, however, Hebrew was taught in universities throughout Europe, and Hebrew scholarship was honored by Protestants and Catholics alike.  Professor Stephen Burnett (University of Nebraska) will discuss why Hebrew suddenly became so important to Christians in the Renaissance, and why this was important in European history.

No rsvp necessary, free.

Dietary Laws as Spirtiual Practice

Exile and return is a central theme to Judaism. This is evident in the readings for tomorrow’s class that describe how early Jewish people navigated experiences of exile. Some of the very cultural hybridity that I commented on in my last response shifts as the Jews found themselves exiled. Armstrong describes on page 82 how the Jews began to circumcise their male children, refrain from work on Shabbat (Sabbath), and to follow Kashrut (Kosher dietary laws). She attributes this to a desire to establish their difference from their “pagan neighbors.”

I would like to focus specifically on Armstrong’s discussion of Kashrut (Kosher dietary laws) as it pertains to early Jews in exile and contemporary Judaism.

When Armstrong characterizes P’s separation of creative ordering in the Torah, first chapter of Genesis, she creates a parallel to the practice of Kashrut. “When the Israelites were commanded to separate milk from meat in their diet or the Sabbath from the rest of the week, they were imitating [G-D’s] creative actions at the beginning of time. It was a new type of ritual and imitatio dei which did not require a temple or an elaborate liturgy but could be performed by men and women in the apparently humdrum ordering of their daily lives (p. 87).

I thought the parallel she creates in this section captures one reason for practicing Kashrut well, which is the idea of bringing the observance and awareness of G-D into everyday life. However, some suggest that Kashrut is followed simply because we are commanded to do so…a no questions asked kind of thing (chukim). Some believe that Kashrut stems from early hygiene practices.

Later (page 111) Armstrong brings up an apparent contradiction in that Abraham ate meat and milk together when he entertained G-D at Mamre. However at this point, I would have to raise some caution in how this point is interpreted by contemporary readers. First, while kashrut laws are written about in Leviticus and Deuteronomy, the details are in the oral law which was eventually written in the Mishnah and Talmud.

And perhaps for my purposes as a contemporary person who practices Kashrut, does it matter to me that Abraham served G-D milk and meat? Is there a contemporary purpose to the practice that honors the mitzvoth, but also speaks to my own contemporary practices. Do I simply say this is outdated or is there a contemporary reason that I practice Kashrut?

I found this reference online and thought that it summarized some of the contemporary reasons for practicing Kashrut. “In his book "To Be a Jew", Rabbi Hayim Halevy Donin suggests that the dietary laws are designed as a call to holiness. The ability to distinguish between right and wrong, good and evil, pure and defiled, the sacred and the profane, is very important in Judaism. Imposing rules on what you can and cannot eat ingrains that kind of self control, requiring us to learn to control even our most basic, primal instincts” (Judaism 101, http://www.jewfaq.org/kashrut.htm). This isn’t about separating myself from someone else and suggesting that I am right and they are wrong…that is not what I am aiming to distinguish here. Rather, it helps to guide me through the decisions I make and what I encounter on a day to day basis thoughtfully.

Constructing Identity, Positioning History

One thing, among many, that stood out to me in reading the readings for tomorrow’s class was the way in which what the author describes (through a very historical voice that assumes some sort of authorial neutrality that I question) is a disruption of identity binaries. For example, in chapter two she describes the debate as to whether Israelites emerged from within from outside of Canaanite society which raises interesting questions about the ways in which these two groups were perhaps more alike than different. She also spends a significant amount of time discussing the ways in which the Israelites were not all monotheistic in the way that we understand and define contemporary Judaism. She describes more sharing between the religions that I found interesting.

As I was reading these chapters this week, I was also reading Stuart Hall’s “Cultural Identity and Diaspora” and found a number of interesting parallels regarding the question of how we even understand and articulate the idea of identity. I should note that Hall was born and raised in a lower-middle class family in Jamaica and has lived his adult life in England in “the shadow of the black diaspora” (p. 223).

He writes, “Identity is not as transparent or unproblematic as we think. Perhaps instead of thinking of identity as an already accomplished fact, which the new cultural practices then represent, we should think, instead, of identity as a ‘production’, which is never complete, always in process, and always constituted within, not outside, representation” (Hall, p.222).  He complicates the very notion of us having a one true self or being a one people, which for me is demonstrated by the hybridity and layered nature of the historical nature described by Armstrong.

However, Hall also writes “Far from being grounded in a mere ‘recovery’ of the past, which is waiting to be found, and which, when found, will secure our sense of ourselves into eternity, identities are the names we give to the different ways we are positioned by, and position ourselves within, the narratives of the past” (p. 225).  For me, this raises questions as to how we respond to a text like that of Armstrong. How do I position myself in relation to such a history. Do I see it as uncovering a truth or is it equally constructed, positioned? I appreciate the active way in which Hall describes our relationship to the past as one of positioning rather than simply receiving.

Critical Dialogue (Journal 1)

My motivation for becoming a Jewish Studies major was very different than it was for my other college work. I have already graduated from college. I already have a career. My existence now as a Jewish Studies major has nothing to do with practical matters I suppose, but is very personal. Given that I am a Jew-by-choice (an adult who “converted” to Judaism), I did not have the typical Jewish education that many Jewish children have. Therefore, it is very significant for me to take advantage of the opportunity to take courses at Ohio State that enable me to build my knowledge and understanding of Judaism.

The Living Jerusalem course is the first course I have taken in my program of study for Jewish Studies. While we are not that far along yet in the class, one of my first observations is that the readings have not represented a particularly Jewish narrative. They have told important “facts” from Jewish history, yet I have not heard a very strong Jewish voice or Israeli perspective about why contemporary decisions were made. (I am thinking again of parts of the Dumper article here).  Similarly, I have read histories, but not personal stories that truly capture the meaning that Jerusalem holds historically for the Jewish people. I feel as if we are looking at the outlines of the buildings, but not noticing the footprints.

And some of those footprints are ours. No matter what our religion or relationship to Jerusalem, we have to ask and articulate…what is our relationship to it…why are we looking at it? Why are we speaking about it? What gives us the authority?

That being said, I am glad that this class approaches Jerusalem through a recognition that it is a multiplicity and that it has multiple voices. It is a contradictory, diverse, divergent, complex place. I see all of these things not necessarily as liabilities. I do believe that through critical dialogue, not just any kind of discussion, that change can occur. I see courses like this one as amazing opportunities for that type of change. Even the practice of taking trips to Israel is a perfect example. If we all simply attach ourselves to our religion’s tour group, we repeat the same narrative. If we travel together we are challenged to entertain other perspectives. Even a small shift in perspective resulting by the question such an encounter could raise is meaningful for me.

Tzedakah and the presence of Judaism in Israeli politics

In relation to Mick Dumper's  (1993) article, I found myself thinking a lot about how Jerusalem is on one hand a place marked almost entirely only by its religious significance (not its natural resources, trade routes and so forth), yet I repeatedly found myself questioning where Judaism was in the reasoning or basis for the political actions taken against Palestinians in occupied West Jerusalem by Israel. What do I mean by this? Well, for me, a very significant practice and concept in Judaism is "tzedakah" meaning fairness and justice. In practice, Tzedakah often involves giving monetary donations to an organization and families and children have tzedakah coin banks in the home for this purpose even. However, for me, the idea of creating fairness in the world is an overarching concept within Judaism itself...a striving toward equity. So, when I read Dumper describe how the marginalization of Palestinian people includes "social and education services" [being] "provided at a  qualitatively and quantitatively lower level" I find myself estranged from the Israeli government as a Jewish American. If  Judaism has been lost from these actions of Israel, then what is Jerusalem now? If the ideas and concepts of the religions are not alive in the city and in the choices made at government levels, then what is Jerusalem now?

What is...Sukkot?

So here they are...My husband. My non-Jewish husband. My non-Jewish husband that was not the reason for my "conversion" to Judaism. And there she sits, my 7 year old daughter, born in China, being raised a Jew, that immersed herself by my side in the mikvah. I suppose this is not a "traditional" Jewish family. They sit in our sukka from this past fall. The laminated poster of the Ushpizin that I ordered online hangs behind them and decorations similar to those mentioned in the readings are there as well. Some memorial candles are lit for relatives that have passed. The walls are not white as Hasan-Rokem describes the sukkot in Jerusalem. This is not Jerusalem. There is no Israeli flag.I guess this is not a traditional sukka.

As I was reading the readings for class tomorrow, I found myself returning to this notion of the "traditional" and the related idea of "authenticity." In creating the Folklife Festival, the focus on folklife specifically can raise issues about extending an ethnographic gaze that equally contributes to questions of power and control in regard to the representation of cultures, nations, and religions. Who decides what is authentically Jerusalem?  (I believe Hasam-Rokem asks this question with the sukka example.) Is this desire a very contradiction to the multiplicity and constantly evolving identities of a dynamic place? I am very curious as to how the complex identities that Horowitz describes would have been achieved without "Disney-fying Jerusalem" if this project had reached its completion.

Introduction

My interest in this course and project comes in part from my own multiply defined religious identity and   how I now negotiate and reflect upon my different positions in relationship to marginalization and oppression. I was raised Catholic and adopted Judaism (reform) as an adult. I see my own journey as sharing, not mirror lived experiences, but common metanarratives and issues of conflict and marginalization when I think of the diversity of Jerusalem. In the United States, my adoption of Judaism moved me from a position of privilege to one of marginalization, yet within the context of Israel, I recognize the ways in which Jews have supported oppressive discourses and actions. Likewise, my Catholic ancestors oppressed my adopted Jewish ancestors and now I am asked by my Catholic mother not to even reveal that I am Jewish to relatives. So, in walking the landscape of Jerusalem through this course and reflecting upon the challenging questions raised by the interactions of the diverse religious and cultural groups that live there, I aim to also deeply reflect upon how I too can better engage in meaningful dialogue.