CENTER FOR MULTIFAITH EDUCATION DIRECTOR TO PARTICIPATE IN HISTORIC SUMMIT Rabbi Daniel Brenner, the director of Auburn's Center for Multifaith Education, will be participating in the First World Congress of Imams and Rabbis for Peace this January in Brussels. Under the patronage of King Albert II of Belgium and King Mohammed VI of Morocco, the summit will bring together 100 religious leaders for dialogue and strategy sessions regarding religious tensions and conflict resolution. One of a handful of American rabbis selected for participation, Rabbi Brenner will be joining Dr. Amir Al-Islam of City University as New York's representatives to the summit. The stated goals of the three day meeting are to: Gather before the media of the whole world the leaders of both religions and allow them to express a position of peace and unity. Create a dialogue and a far-reaching, durable partnership between Islam and Judaism. Allow the religious leaders to contribute to discovering peaceful solutions to the conflicts where they are influential and foster the development of concrete actions in the field. For more information, see
Hommes de Parole Foundation Website
9.12.04
A revelation
Smithsonian's Folkways records has an album of Music of the Jews of Uganda
Even when their leader sings syrupy Americanized brachot melodies they sound transcendent.
Even when their leader sings syrupy Americanized brachot melodies they sound transcendent.
6.12.04
3.12.04
Talking with Presbyterians
NEW JERSEY JEWISH NEWS
Talking with Presbyterians about Israel
by Rabbi Daniel S. Brenner
As the only rabbi in America who works full time in a Presbyterian seminary, my life has been complicated, as my friends can attest, by the decision of the Presbyterian Church (USA) to divest from companies that do business with Israel. “How can you work for them?” is a question I’ve heard at Shabbos tables, supermarkets, and children’s birthday parties.Luckily it is an easy question to answer — I work for an independent educational institution with a Presbyterian affiliation, not for the national church. I can also proudly say that my Presbyterian colleagues at Auburn Theological Seminary in New York City have made extraordinary public statements expressing their dismay at their church’s actions. They have, in fact, taken the lead nationally when it comes to addressing the one-sided rhetoric of these declarations and building constructive relations between Presbyterian and Jewish leaders.But that said, it has been a rocky road. I have met with sensitive and compassionate Presbyterian ministers who support the divestment action. I have had the very difficult task of explaining what is wrong with divesting from Israel, even as I acknowledge that Israel severely restricts the lives of millions of noncitizens and has been charged even by its own watchdog groups with numerous human rights abuses. (Even as I write this the Israeli press is reporting that an Israel Defense Forces company commander is being indicted following an investigation into the October shooting death of a 12-year-old girl in the Rafah refugee camp.) None of the ministers, seminary students, or lay people whom I have met has been vehemently anti-Israel; they simply identify strongly with liberal causes. Back in the ’90s they were supporters of Yitzhak Rabin’s peace efforts and they believe, like most American Jews, that a two-state solution is preferable to the continuing occupation or expulsion of Palestinians or to the Jews being pushed into the sea.But they side with the powerless and oppressed, which, according to nearly every international human rights organization, is the Palestinian population. They are highly critical of the security fence, targeted assassinations, and home demolitions that make up Ariel Sharon’s counteroffensive. Divestment for them is applying a tool that was used to bring down South Africa’s white-dominated apartheid state; in their minds, the same tactic will be effective in Israel. “Israel is the new South Africa” makes sense to them.All this does make sense, in fact, until I remind myself how distorted a view this has become. How did it get to the point where a historical homeland of two peoples that has been contested for the last 3,000 years is seen in the same light as a racist colonial enclave built to exploit the wealth of Africa’s tip? What many Jews fail to understand is that the voices of Palestinian Christians, though they make up only 2 percent of the Palestinian population, are the voices that reach America’s pews. And since the vast majority of leaders in the Palestinian-Christian community have embraced nonviolence and peaceful protest as the way to address occupation, their voices are met with genuine concern and sympathy. The Palestinian Christians who write in church publications, tour the United States, and bring visitors to Israel tell the stories of living under conditions that have seriously deteriorated in the past four years. They are simply bearing witness to the lives of many Palestinian children and elderly who have suffered under the security conditions. And though many Jews would like these Palestinian Christians to lay all the blame at Hamas’ doorstep or place it with the Palestinian authority leadership, the tanks and helicopters and home demolitions have been experienced as a collective and unjust punishment on the innocent by the mighty Zionists. The actions that Presbyterian delegates took last summer at the PCUSA’s General Assembly were made in response to the speech of one such Palestinian Christian, the Rev. Mitri Raheb, who has gone on from the General Assembly to speak in other Christian institutions in the United States as part of a book tour. But I would like to suggest that as persuasive as he and his fellow Palestinian Christians have been in Christian circles, their voices are not what triggered divestment. I believe that there is a much deeper cause to this movement. And it is not anti-Semitism. It is frustration — a by-product of the spiritual and emotional antipathy carried by left-leaning Protestants toward another Protestant, George W. Bush. Truly compassionate Christians are justifiably angered with America’s poorly planned occupation of Iraq and the slaughter of more than 50,000 civilians killed in the name of finding weapons of mass destruction (or exporting democracy). It stings that Condoleezza Rice is a devout Presbyterian, and the photos of crosses hanging from American tanks and the talk of “crusade” by figures such as Lt. Gen. William G. Boykin are turning stomachs. But rather than call for divestment from American corporations that enabled the U.S. invasion and perpetuate the United States occupation, liberal Protestants end up lashing out at the eternal scapegoat, Israel.As a result, the General Assembly, which openly condemned the preemptive U.S. attack on Iraq, is not investigating U.S.-based companies like Motorola whose technology is used to coordinate artillery strikes, monitor Iraqi villages, and keep millions under restrictive curfews. But it does instruct its committee to search for dirt on U.S. businesses connected to Israel’s security.Such dirt is hard to find, and the initial reports of the Presbyterians’ divestment study committee reflect cautious statements that indicate that divestment is not likely to happen anytime soon. But I imagine that in the coming months the national body of Presbyterians will launch its actions by bringing a resolution against the bulldozer giant Caterpillar. This will trigger hundreds of letters to the PCUSA and to newspaper editors from Jewish leaders explaining that bulldozers are used to uncover tunnels and to remove sniper dens and all the rest. But if you’ve ever heard or seen a D-9, you know it is a monster — the thing can clear a minefield — and photos of the accidental death of Rachel Corrie, a 23-year-old American activist crushed when she chose to protest in front of a D-9 in Gaza, are already on PCUSA’s Web site. So I predict that a symbolic statement will be made by the church and will be celebrated by those who call for an all-out boycott of Israel. And Dennis Prager and Alan Dershowitz will sit down and write fiery op-eds using Holocaust analogies.So what can we, as American Jews, do now?First off, we should not assume that Presbyterian leaders are ignorant on issues relating to Israel. From my perch (which is towered over by Riverside Church’s steeple), I’ve seen that although a number of Presbyterian leaders have simplistic views on the Israel/Palestine issue, many Presbyterian leaders understand very clearly the complexity of Israel’s situation. There are also many Presbyterians who are making efforts to engage with the Jewish community face to face and dialogue on the issue.We should use the energy surrounding the Presbyterian-Jewish controversy as an opportunity to leverage the practical view of both the majority of American Jews and liberal Protestants — that the United States should, through diplomatic means, actively involve both sides in reaching a settlement of the conflict. With upcoming elections in the Palestinian Authority and coming implementation of the Gaza disengagement plan, this is an ideal time for Americans to be discussing how we can capitalize on the efforts begun by Rabin. As I’ve heard a few Israelis say, “There is light at the end of the tunnel, but there is no tunnel!” The Presbyterian divestment action has clearly thrown more dirt in front of that tunnel, but it also may give us a reason to begin digging together. God knows we both would like to see the light. Daniel S. Brenner is director of the Center for Multifaith Education at Auburn Theological Seminary, a nearly 200-year-old Presbyterian institution on Manhattan’s Upper West Side. He lives in Montclair.
Talking with Presbyterians about Israel
by Rabbi Daniel S. Brenner
As the only rabbi in America who works full time in a Presbyterian seminary, my life has been complicated, as my friends can attest, by the decision of the Presbyterian Church (USA) to divest from companies that do business with Israel. “How can you work for them?” is a question I’ve heard at Shabbos tables, supermarkets, and children’s birthday parties.Luckily it is an easy question to answer — I work for an independent educational institution with a Presbyterian affiliation, not for the national church. I can also proudly say that my Presbyterian colleagues at Auburn Theological Seminary in New York City have made extraordinary public statements expressing their dismay at their church’s actions. They have, in fact, taken the lead nationally when it comes to addressing the one-sided rhetoric of these declarations and building constructive relations between Presbyterian and Jewish leaders.But that said, it has been a rocky road. I have met with sensitive and compassionate Presbyterian ministers who support the divestment action. I have had the very difficult task of explaining what is wrong with divesting from Israel, even as I acknowledge that Israel severely restricts the lives of millions of noncitizens and has been charged even by its own watchdog groups with numerous human rights abuses. (Even as I write this the Israeli press is reporting that an Israel Defense Forces company commander is being indicted following an investigation into the October shooting death of a 12-year-old girl in the Rafah refugee camp.) None of the ministers, seminary students, or lay people whom I have met has been vehemently anti-Israel; they simply identify strongly with liberal causes. Back in the ’90s they were supporters of Yitzhak Rabin’s peace efforts and they believe, like most American Jews, that a two-state solution is preferable to the continuing occupation or expulsion of Palestinians or to the Jews being pushed into the sea.But they side with the powerless and oppressed, which, according to nearly every international human rights organization, is the Palestinian population. They are highly critical of the security fence, targeted assassinations, and home demolitions that make up Ariel Sharon’s counteroffensive. Divestment for them is applying a tool that was used to bring down South Africa’s white-dominated apartheid state; in their minds, the same tactic will be effective in Israel. “Israel is the new South Africa” makes sense to them.All this does make sense, in fact, until I remind myself how distorted a view this has become. How did it get to the point where a historical homeland of two peoples that has been contested for the last 3,000 years is seen in the same light as a racist colonial enclave built to exploit the wealth of Africa’s tip? What many Jews fail to understand is that the voices of Palestinian Christians, though they make up only 2 percent of the Palestinian population, are the voices that reach America’s pews. And since the vast majority of leaders in the Palestinian-Christian community have embraced nonviolence and peaceful protest as the way to address occupation, their voices are met with genuine concern and sympathy. The Palestinian Christians who write in church publications, tour the United States, and bring visitors to Israel tell the stories of living under conditions that have seriously deteriorated in the past four years. They are simply bearing witness to the lives of many Palestinian children and elderly who have suffered under the security conditions. And though many Jews would like these Palestinian Christians to lay all the blame at Hamas’ doorstep or place it with the Palestinian authority leadership, the tanks and helicopters and home demolitions have been experienced as a collective and unjust punishment on the innocent by the mighty Zionists. The actions that Presbyterian delegates took last summer at the PCUSA’s General Assembly were made in response to the speech of one such Palestinian Christian, the Rev. Mitri Raheb, who has gone on from the General Assembly to speak in other Christian institutions in the United States as part of a book tour. But I would like to suggest that as persuasive as he and his fellow Palestinian Christians have been in Christian circles, their voices are not what triggered divestment. I believe that there is a much deeper cause to this movement. And it is not anti-Semitism. It is frustration — a by-product of the spiritual and emotional antipathy carried by left-leaning Protestants toward another Protestant, George W. Bush. Truly compassionate Christians are justifiably angered with America’s poorly planned occupation of Iraq and the slaughter of more than 50,000 civilians killed in the name of finding weapons of mass destruction (or exporting democracy). It stings that Condoleezza Rice is a devout Presbyterian, and the photos of crosses hanging from American tanks and the talk of “crusade” by figures such as Lt. Gen. William G. Boykin are turning stomachs. But rather than call for divestment from American corporations that enabled the U.S. invasion and perpetuate the United States occupation, liberal Protestants end up lashing out at the eternal scapegoat, Israel.As a result, the General Assembly, which openly condemned the preemptive U.S. attack on Iraq, is not investigating U.S.-based companies like Motorola whose technology is used to coordinate artillery strikes, monitor Iraqi villages, and keep millions under restrictive curfews. But it does instruct its committee to search for dirt on U.S. businesses connected to Israel’s security.Such dirt is hard to find, and the initial reports of the Presbyterians’ divestment study committee reflect cautious statements that indicate that divestment is not likely to happen anytime soon. But I imagine that in the coming months the national body of Presbyterians will launch its actions by bringing a resolution against the bulldozer giant Caterpillar. This will trigger hundreds of letters to the PCUSA and to newspaper editors from Jewish leaders explaining that bulldozers are used to uncover tunnels and to remove sniper dens and all the rest. But if you’ve ever heard or seen a D-9, you know it is a monster — the thing can clear a minefield — and photos of the accidental death of Rachel Corrie, a 23-year-old American activist crushed when she chose to protest in front of a D-9 in Gaza, are already on PCUSA’s Web site. So I predict that a symbolic statement will be made by the church and will be celebrated by those who call for an all-out boycott of Israel. And Dennis Prager and Alan Dershowitz will sit down and write fiery op-eds using Holocaust analogies.So what can we, as American Jews, do now?First off, we should not assume that Presbyterian leaders are ignorant on issues relating to Israel. From my perch (which is towered over by Riverside Church’s steeple), I’ve seen that although a number of Presbyterian leaders have simplistic views on the Israel/Palestine issue, many Presbyterian leaders understand very clearly the complexity of Israel’s situation. There are also many Presbyterians who are making efforts to engage with the Jewish community face to face and dialogue on the issue.We should use the energy surrounding the Presbyterian-Jewish controversy as an opportunity to leverage the practical view of both the majority of American Jews and liberal Protestants — that the United States should, through diplomatic means, actively involve both sides in reaching a settlement of the conflict. With upcoming elections in the Palestinian Authority and coming implementation of the Gaza disengagement plan, this is an ideal time for Americans to be discussing how we can capitalize on the efforts begun by Rabin. As I’ve heard a few Israelis say, “There is light at the end of the tunnel, but there is no tunnel!” The Presbyterian divestment action has clearly thrown more dirt in front of that tunnel, but it also may give us a reason to begin digging together. God knows we both would like to see the light. Daniel S. Brenner is director of the Center for Multifaith Education at Auburn Theological Seminary, a nearly 200-year-old Presbyterian institution on Manhattan’s Upper West Side. He lives in Montclair.
Summit for Respect
In the past week, I had the honor of both addressing and participating in the summit for interfaith respect described below. We met with UN Ambassador John Danforth (two days before his resignation....which was probably why he seemed out to lunch).
Controversial Imams Enter Dialogue With Rabbis
By Eric J. Greenberg
December 3, 2004
Some of the most influential and controversial Islamic clerics in the Middle East are participating in a plan to launch what organizers describe as the first joint-training institute to produce future moderate sheiks, rabbis, priests and ministers.
The unprecedented proposal to create a summer religious institute — where young seminarians from the three faiths would study together to break down barriers and foster positive relationships — was unveiled this week during a nine-day "Summit for Interfaith Respect," held in New York City and in Boston.
Partially funded by the U.S. Department of State, the interfaith summit assembled Catholic, Greek Orthodox, Protestant, Islamic and Jewish religious leaders from around the world to study biblical texts and begin planning for the joint-training institute. The group spent Tuesday at the Jewish Theological Seminary, the flagship institution of Conservative Judaism, interpreting and debating the Jewish, Muslim and Christian versions of the story of Abraham's binding of Isaac.
Organizers, including Stephen P. Cohen, president of the Washington-based Institute for Middle East Peace and Development, are hailing the initiative as a vital step toward bridging gaps between the West and the Islamic world. Jewish participants included several members of the JTS faculty; Orthodox rabbi and Brooklyn College professor David Berger, and Rabbi Reuven Firestone, a professor of medieval Judaism and Islam at the Los Angeles campus of the Reform movement's Hebrew Union College-Jewish Institute of Religion.
"This is a very important moment for leading religious figures from the Middle East and the United States to come together," Cohen said in a welcoming statement Tuesday. Cohen, a private citizen who has spent much of the past two decades shuttling between Arab, American and Israeli officials in an effort to promote peace, said, "The tensions that currently characterize relations among many nations and religious communities require high-level discussion about ways to advance respect and understanding across faiths."
But criticism of the summit's guest list, specifically several Islamic clerics who have endorsed suicide bombings, is highlighting the political pitfalls and moral dilemmas facing the architects of such efforts. In particular, the participation of two controversial Egyptian Islamic scholars — Ahmed Al-Tayeb, a former Egyptian grand mufti, and Sheik Dr. Muhammad Sayyid Tantawi, perhaps the highest-ranking theologian in Sunni Islam — is drawing criticism in some Jewish communal circles.
"If they condone the murder of Israeli civilians saying suicide bombing is legitimate, they are not the kind of people that should be involved in a dialogue," said Yehudit Barsky, director of the department of counter-terrorism at the American Jewish Committee.
Barsky said that organizers should require Al-Tayeb and Tantawi to publicly denounce their position on suicide bombings in order to participate. "I hope we are not willfully closing our eyes because we want to see something happen," with the training institute, Barsky said. Referring to some Islamic clerics, she added: "I would be very cautious in choosing whom to speak. There's a [duplicity] here that the organizers might not appreciate."
In March 2003, Al-Tayeb, the current president of Cairo's Al-Azhar University, said that "martyrdom operations" against Israel are "100% legitimate." One year earlier, he ruled that Palestinians who carry out suicide operations in the occupied territories are regarded by God as "a martyr" and "even rises to the highest level of martyrdom." Last year, he urged Muslims all over the world "to take up jihad against the invading forces."
Tantawi, Grand Imam of the flagship Al Azhar mosque in Cairo, proclaimed in 2002 that suicide bombings against Israel are valid under Islamic law and denied there were remains of King Solomon's Jewish Temple underneath the Al-Aqsa mosque, Jerusalem's Temple Mount, according to Egypt's MENA state news agency. Since then, he has issued conflicting statements on the issue, including a November 2003 declaration that Muslim suicide attacks could not be justified.
Criticism of the clerics was dismissed by summit co-organizer Margaret Cone, who argued that past controversial statements made by the Islamic religious leaders no longer are relevant. "We have to move beyond that," said Cone, a Catholic activist and Washington lobbyist. "I know and expect critics are going to bring it up and do Google searches and smear them. It's not productive. They know what they said, and came to a Jewish seminary and a synagogue anyway. It takes guts to do what they've done."
Organizers complained that leading Palestinian clerics could not attend the summit because Israel would not grant them visas. Jewish leaders and seminaries from Israel also were absent.
Some Middle East participants expressed skepticism about the project. Ambassador Sallama Shaker, Egypt's assistant minister of Foreign Affairs, complained that the group was spending too much time interpreting and debating texts from the Torah, Koran and the New Testament and not enough time dealing with practical issues of religious hatred and violence.
Al-Tayeb said that the Koran rejects discussing Islamic theology with followers of other faiths, echoing a common Orthodox Jewish position on interfaith dialogue. Instead, Al-Tayeb suggested that dialogue should focus on social issues on which the faiths can cooperate, such as poverty and homelessness.
In addition to studying texts, the group of about 35 scholars also discussed ways that religion can become a force for peace and reconciliation.
Cohen said that the Vatican already has given its full support for the project. He also wants future meetings to include the Shia seminaries of Qom and Najaf, respectively located in Iran and Iraq, as well as Muslims from South and Southeast Asia and from Africa.
"There now exists a rare opportunity, where the governments of the United States, Egypt, Jordan and Israel are officially and formally supporting the climate for a dialogue between the world's religions," Cohen stated in his summit proposal. "Leading Muslim educators and scholars have now agreed to visit the United States for the first time, to initiate a process of dialogue, education, conflict resolution and religious respect."
Cohen said that the long-term goal of the summit is to create "an alliance of young moderates in the religious sphere" to develop an ongoing dialogue. "Such efforts will have the effect of decreasing fear, suspicion and intolerance."
Controversial Imams Enter Dialogue With Rabbis
By Eric J. Greenberg
December 3, 2004
Some of the most influential and controversial Islamic clerics in the Middle East are participating in a plan to launch what organizers describe as the first joint-training institute to produce future moderate sheiks, rabbis, priests and ministers.
The unprecedented proposal to create a summer religious institute — where young seminarians from the three faiths would study together to break down barriers and foster positive relationships — was unveiled this week during a nine-day "Summit for Interfaith Respect," held in New York City and in Boston.
Partially funded by the U.S. Department of State, the interfaith summit assembled Catholic, Greek Orthodox, Protestant, Islamic and Jewish religious leaders from around the world to study biblical texts and begin planning for the joint-training institute. The group spent Tuesday at the Jewish Theological Seminary, the flagship institution of Conservative Judaism, interpreting and debating the Jewish, Muslim and Christian versions of the story of Abraham's binding of Isaac.
Organizers, including Stephen P. Cohen, president of the Washington-based Institute for Middle East Peace and Development, are hailing the initiative as a vital step toward bridging gaps between the West and the Islamic world. Jewish participants included several members of the JTS faculty; Orthodox rabbi and Brooklyn College professor David Berger, and Rabbi Reuven Firestone, a professor of medieval Judaism and Islam at the Los Angeles campus of the Reform movement's Hebrew Union College-Jewish Institute of Religion.
"This is a very important moment for leading religious figures from the Middle East and the United States to come together," Cohen said in a welcoming statement Tuesday. Cohen, a private citizen who has spent much of the past two decades shuttling between Arab, American and Israeli officials in an effort to promote peace, said, "The tensions that currently characterize relations among many nations and religious communities require high-level discussion about ways to advance respect and understanding across faiths."
But criticism of the summit's guest list, specifically several Islamic clerics who have endorsed suicide bombings, is highlighting the political pitfalls and moral dilemmas facing the architects of such efforts. In particular, the participation of two controversial Egyptian Islamic scholars — Ahmed Al-Tayeb, a former Egyptian grand mufti, and Sheik Dr. Muhammad Sayyid Tantawi, perhaps the highest-ranking theologian in Sunni Islam — is drawing criticism in some Jewish communal circles.
"If they condone the murder of Israeli civilians saying suicide bombing is legitimate, they are not the kind of people that should be involved in a dialogue," said Yehudit Barsky, director of the department of counter-terrorism at the American Jewish Committee.
Barsky said that organizers should require Al-Tayeb and Tantawi to publicly denounce their position on suicide bombings in order to participate. "I hope we are not willfully closing our eyes because we want to see something happen," with the training institute, Barsky said. Referring to some Islamic clerics, she added: "I would be very cautious in choosing whom to speak. There's a [duplicity] here that the organizers might not appreciate."
In March 2003, Al-Tayeb, the current president of Cairo's Al-Azhar University, said that "martyrdom operations" against Israel are "100% legitimate." One year earlier, he ruled that Palestinians who carry out suicide operations in the occupied territories are regarded by God as "a martyr" and "even rises to the highest level of martyrdom." Last year, he urged Muslims all over the world "to take up jihad against the invading forces."
Tantawi, Grand Imam of the flagship Al Azhar mosque in Cairo, proclaimed in 2002 that suicide bombings against Israel are valid under Islamic law and denied there were remains of King Solomon's Jewish Temple underneath the Al-Aqsa mosque, Jerusalem's Temple Mount, according to Egypt's MENA state news agency. Since then, he has issued conflicting statements on the issue, including a November 2003 declaration that Muslim suicide attacks could not be justified.
Criticism of the clerics was dismissed by summit co-organizer Margaret Cone, who argued that past controversial statements made by the Islamic religious leaders no longer are relevant. "We have to move beyond that," said Cone, a Catholic activist and Washington lobbyist. "I know and expect critics are going to bring it up and do Google searches and smear them. It's not productive. They know what they said, and came to a Jewish seminary and a synagogue anyway. It takes guts to do what they've done."
Organizers complained that leading Palestinian clerics could not attend the summit because Israel would not grant them visas. Jewish leaders and seminaries from Israel also were absent.
Some Middle East participants expressed skepticism about the project. Ambassador Sallama Shaker, Egypt's assistant minister of Foreign Affairs, complained that the group was spending too much time interpreting and debating texts from the Torah, Koran and the New Testament and not enough time dealing with practical issues of religious hatred and violence.
Al-Tayeb said that the Koran rejects discussing Islamic theology with followers of other faiths, echoing a common Orthodox Jewish position on interfaith dialogue. Instead, Al-Tayeb suggested that dialogue should focus on social issues on which the faiths can cooperate, such as poverty and homelessness.
In addition to studying texts, the group of about 35 scholars also discussed ways that religion can become a force for peace and reconciliation.
Cohen said that the Vatican already has given its full support for the project. He also wants future meetings to include the Shia seminaries of Qom and Najaf, respectively located in Iran and Iraq, as well as Muslims from South and Southeast Asia and from Africa.
"There now exists a rare opportunity, where the governments of the United States, Egypt, Jordan and Israel are officially and formally supporting the climate for a dialogue between the world's religions," Cohen stated in his summit proposal. "Leading Muslim educators and scholars have now agreed to visit the United States for the first time, to initiate a process of dialogue, education, conflict resolution and religious respect."
Cohen said that the long-term goal of the summit is to create "an alliance of young moderates in the religious sphere" to develop an ongoing dialogue. "Such efforts will have the effect of decreasing fear, suspicion and intolerance."
30.11.04
Hope for the Holy Land
Yesterday morning I particiapted in a conference put on by the Institute for Middle East Peace and Development (Stephen Cohen) which had a large group of Egyptian and Jordanian muslims who are interested in inter-religious paths to peace.
In the evening, I met Rachel Bronson from the Council on Foreign Relations last night. She spoke at a parlor meeting on Israel/Saudi realtions. She was hopeful --perhaps post Arafat some things can move back on track to Taba.
In the evening, I met Rachel Bronson from the Council on Foreign Relations last night. She spoke at a parlor meeting on Israel/Saudi realtions. She was hopeful --perhaps post Arafat some things can move back on track to Taba.
29.11.04
On with the show...
The new information about Vital Signs is now up. Here's the bio of Emanuel, one of the leads in the show.
23.11.04
Rabbis for Human Rights
Last night was an event at Jerry and Alicia Ostricker's home for Rabbis for Human Rights. Rabbi Brian Walt spoke beautifully of Yakov and Esav's reunion and Arik Aschermann told stories of driving his Honda Civic in the territories, protesting abuses by the IDF and planting trees. Congressman Rush Holt was there and I had the opporunity to dare him to wear Ruth Goldston's button "Proud Liberal with Moral Values" - he took the button, but placed it in his pocket.
19.11.04
Yet another amusing Jewish video...
Thanks to my pal Dr. Robert Rabinowitz for sending this on. This is quality. Enjoy!
Yiddish with Dick and Jane!
Yiddish with Dick and Jane!
16.11.04
Here's the Press Release for Driving School!
November 15, 2004 - by BWW News Desk
VITAL THEATRE COMPANY is pleased to present its ninth installment of VITAL SIGNS, the company's annual new works festival. The three-part series begins Wednesday, December 2nd at 7:00 p.m. Each series runs 1 week - Wednesdays through Sundays at 7:00 p.m. - through December 19th. Tickets are $15.00, $10.00 for students. TDF Accepted. To purchase tickets, please log onto www.TheaterMania.com or call (212) 352-3101. For more information, visit www.vitaltheatre.org. Vital Theatre Company is now located at the McGinn/Cazale Theatre above the Promenade, 2162 Broadway on the 4th Floor at 76th Street.
Series One: December 2 -5
For two men, the gravitational pull of JUPITER is stronger than either might have suspected, as written by Scott C. Smith and directed by Andrew Sheppard. In STRESS TEST, by Pat Pfeiffer and directed by Mahayana Landowne, a patient's test checks more than stress. In DEATH COMES FOR THE THERAPIST, by Laura Owen and directed by Jason Chimonides, it's just another day for a busy and caring therapist -- until a young woman appears in her office claiming to be the Angel of Death. Is this really it -- or can the problem be solved with a little therapy? Norma Kline writes and directs LOCAL POTATOES, in which a young carpenter gets more than he bargained for when he asks a farmer why he wants to sell the car on his front lawn.
DRIVING SCHOOL OF AMERICA, by Daniel Brenner and directed by Joanna Luks, tries to find out what a Chinese scientist and a Dominican ex-seminary student have in common.
Series Two: December 9 - 12
Thriller, the Pepsi fire, cocaine cowboys, and a white family moving into a black neighborhood: it's 1984 in Miami and life is about to get a whole lot more confusing for a group of kids who want to be MJ in DEFACING MICHAEL JACKSON by Aurin Squire, directed by Denyse Owens. In MINA, by Kyoung H.
Park and directed by C.S. Lee, a young Korean woman raised in Lima, Peru, falls in love with a Peruvian-Japanese man, only to ignite intolerant rage which dates back to the conquest of the Incan empire. Mom and Dad fall in love and out of love in 20 minutes and every word of it is true in TRUE LOVE STORY OF MY PARENTS by Elizabeth Meriweather, directed by Shira Milikowsky.
NEVER NEVER LAND - penned by NYC writer Laura Rohrman, directed by Habib Azar -- is a psycological drama about where grief can take us. When Wendy comes home to her small town for her best friend's funeral she is forced to deal with unresolved issues or be haunted by them forever. In #9, by Chisa Hutchinson and directed by Christopher Kloko, a white woman has decided to rage against the machine by (what else?) having an affair with a black man.
When caught by her husband, she presents him with a rather bizarre solution to their socio-sexual problems. An unseen danger lurks in the darkness in COYOTES, by Catherine Gillet and directed by Emily Tetzlaff.
Series Three: December 16 - 19
William Borden's FALLING, as directed by Aimee Hayes, imagines the thoughts of two, and for a moment, three, of the people who were forced to jump from the World Trade Center the morning of September 11, 2001. Dark fun in Hell is had in JUICE, written and directed by Jane Shepard, this year's winner of the Robert Chesley Playwriting Prize & the recipient of last year's Berrilla Kerr Playwriting Award. Gothic mystery and mayhem collide in Ian Finley's stylish SUSPENSE, directed by David Hilder. JESUS HATES YOU by Robert Shaffron, directed by Paul Adams, explores heterosexual marriage and values, 2004-style. In Samuel French One Act Competition 2004 winner Kellie Overbey's OVERHEAD, directed by Linda Ames Key, the playwright takes an unflinching look at modern-day morality.
Now in its seventh season, VITAL THEATRE COMPANY programs include the VITAL MAIN STAGE, VITAL SIGNS New Works Festival which has seen 14 new short plays go on to publication, VITAL CHILDREN'S THEATRE which commissions and presents new plays with music for young audiences, performed by adults, VITAL VOICES Education Outreach and VITAL DIRECTIONS. Vital Theatre Company is a six-time winner of the Off-Off Broadway Review's Award for Excellence and was also named 2002 Theatre Company of the Year from The New York Theatre Experience.
For more information, please visit www.vitaltheatre.org.
11.11.04
Eliyahu McLean
Born in a Sikh in Hawaii, now a Chasid in Jerusalem, Eliyahu Punjab McLean is a one-of-a-kind. I got a mention in McLean's wonderful diary of peacemaking.
Invocation for Rabbi David Rosen
Rabbi David Rudin, former Chief Rabbi of Ireland and head of the Council of World Religions for Peace spoke last night at Auburn. I was asked to deliver an invocation:
The father of many, Abraham, dug wells, and a desert thirst was quenched with those waters. But as time went on, the wells were not taken care of and they became clogged. So, we read this week that Isaac dug anew the wells of his father, drawing fresh water from an ancient source.
May the Eternal one, the source of all blessing, the one who breathed life into us, sustains us and brings us here tonight guide us as we come together to drink fresh water from ancient wells of wisdom. In a world clogged at this time by division and enmity, let us unearth the life-giving source of our common humanity.
Holy One, tonight, in this space, let the words of our mouths and the meditations of our hearts be acceptable to you- guide us to accept the ethical obligations that you demand of us so that the words we take away tonight may be a wellspring for others. May your name be praised on high and in our hearts.
The father of many, Abraham, dug wells, and a desert thirst was quenched with those waters. But as time went on, the wells were not taken care of and they became clogged. So, we read this week that Isaac dug anew the wells of his father, drawing fresh water from an ancient source.
May the Eternal one, the source of all blessing, the one who breathed life into us, sustains us and brings us here tonight guide us as we come together to drink fresh water from ancient wells of wisdom. In a world clogged at this time by division and enmity, let us unearth the life-giving source of our common humanity.
Holy One, tonight, in this space, let the words of our mouths and the meditations of our hearts be acceptable to you- guide us to accept the ethical obligations that you demand of us so that the words we take away tonight may be a wellspring for others. May your name be praised on high and in our hearts.
9.11.04
UTS Address
I had the great honor of giving the sermon during the services today at Union Theological Seminary. I was asked to speak on Isaiah 65.....here goes:
"I create Jerusalem a rejoicing" - Isaiah 65
If there is peace in Pittsburgh, the residents of Squirrel Hill will rejoice – as will residents all around the three rivers, the suburbs, and much of Western Pennsylvania.
If there is peace in Belfast, not only Northern Ireland, but all of Ireland, indeed all of Great Britain will be able to breath a little easier.
No I do not wish to belittle Pittsburgh or Belfast…I wish them well.
But if there is peace in Jerusalem…if any person, from any nation could walk through the cobblestone paths of the shuk – offer prayers at the ancient churches, mosques, or synagogues and not once fear for their life – if never again would blood shed by bullet, rock or bomb have to be cleaned off those stones then this is a new earth. And if this is a new earth, when we gaze into the theological mirror we will see that there is also a new heavens.
In Isaiah’s words: I create Yerushalayim a rejoicing and all her inhabitants a joy – and the voice of weeping shall be heard no more, the voice of crying.
How is it that the restoration of Jerusalem will bring about a new earth?
Isaiah’s vision rests on an ancient idea about God and furniture. Like in Archie Bunker’s living room The heavens are God’s favorite chair, and one spot on earth where God’s feet touch the ground is Jerusalem. God’s footstool is the Holy City – and the giant Temple that once stood was like a big Ottoman. No wonder God is upset when the Temple is crushed by the Romans and the Jews are exiled to Iraq.
But why obsess about this one ancient walled city in a world with hundreds of ancient walled cities? What is so vital about this place built around a rock and some underground caves? If Abraham, Isaac and Jacob all overlooked it when building their altars, why should we be so concerned about this spot now? Tongues cleaving to the roofs our mouths like eating peanut butter from the jar with a spoon.
A local legend concerning Jerusalem, first recorded by the French ethnographer Alphonse de Lamartine in 1832 teaches us about the origin of the city.
It is said that a story of two brothers who lived on separate sides of a mountain. One was blessed with a large family, but was poor; the other was blessed with wealth, but had no family.
They became partners in a farm and split its produce evenly. Since they loved each other dearly, each felt the other’s plight. The wealthy brother thought, “My brother has a large family. He needs this more than I,” and he would secretly move some of his produce to his brother’s section in the middle of the night. The brother with the family thought, “My brother is all alone, with no one to take care of him. He needs this more than I,” and he would secretly move some of his produce to his brother’s section.
Each was amazed that, no matter how much he gave away, his produce did not diminish. Knowing that G-d works in mysterious ways, they didn’t question too much. Then late one night, they inadvertently ran into each other at the top of the mountain. Both were carrying some produce. They fell into each other’s arms and cried.
Their actions, so pure and selfless, affected the very mountain upon which they stood. G-d vowed that the divine presence would never leave this place. This farm later became a village, then a city, and eventually the capital of the Jewish nation under David.
So Jerusalem is, mythically, symbolic of the way in which we are to live with one another. As Ibn Ezra taught – Friendship is one heart in two bodies. Spiritually, looking toward’s Jerusalem’s walls we are to envision an ideal city – a city of God
If only we could look towards Jerusalem and think of it in this way today. Sadly, voices are calling from all sides that are undermining this message. Voices from within my own tradition that see in Jerusalem the restoration of an ancient theocracy, voices within Christian circles that see the blood in Jerusalem’s streets as fuel for a purifying global fire that will separate believers from heathens, and voices in the Islamic world which see it as a sacred land defiled and polluted by Jews and Christians alike. All of us, Christian, Jews, and Muslim, who envision Jerusalem as a city of coexistence – a city where all can worship in peace, have our work cut out for us.
From whence will help come from?
I want to make a radical suggestion. Perhaps the help will come from Tel Aviv. I say this after reading an e-mail from my friend Amos. He writes:
Yesterday we were at a beach north of Tel Aviv with a group of Israeli families. Soft waves, gentle breeze, a campfire, and an idyllic moonlit Mediterranean night. After dinner Maia 9his seven year old), and her friend — also named Maia — entered the water for a twilight swim. Perhaps 20 seconds later I followed them into the sea with Lea in my arms. By the time I was waist deep, a riptide had pulled the two Maias about 30 yards from the shore. They screamed for help as the rough sea wrestled them further and further out. Thinking I could stand as the girls were only 10 yards from me, I stepped out and extended my hand. But the riptide was fierce and sucked Lea and me right out with them. Out here the waves were choppy and tumultuous, and the three girls shrieked in panic. With Lea clinging to my neck screaming “I’m scared! I’m scared!” I tried calmly — and to no avail — to push each of the Maias alternately toward the beach. A dark man, roughly my age, appeared seemingly from nowhere. I could tell he wasn’t a strong swimmer, but together — both grunting and gasping — we tried pushing the three girls ashore. As we pushed one girl, one of the other two would submerge gagging under the vicious tide. I have lived through many things (including the mayhem of 9/11) and no fear in my life has come close to the thought of one of these three girls (and/or myself) dying just yards from the beach. Close to three excruciating minutes later, the stranger and I managed to push the two older girls to the safety of the shallow water. The two Maias sprinted to the beach, screaming for help, as the riptide continued pulling the stranger, Lea, and me back out to sea. I tried in both Hebrew and English to summon help from my friends on the beach. The sea was deafening and no one heard. Suddenly the stranger began waving his hands and shouting for help — in Arabic. Within 20 seconds a line of seven or eight men formed a human chain on the beach. A dark-skinned teenager scurried out on a boogie board. A proprietor from a nearby falafel stand darted into the waves with a lifesaver in hand. With the total coordination of the entire assembly, the falafel stand guy grabbed Lea, now hoarse with terror, and pushed her onto the lifesaver, and the human chain dragged the three of us back to the shallow water. After the trauma there were slaps on the back, thank-yous, and hugs. It was only then, after I finished heaving my guts out onto the nearby dunes, that I learned that the stranger was not only an Arab from a nearby village but also that he didn’t know how to swim. I learned, too, that the human chain that brought the five of us back to the shore comprised almost equally Israeli Arabs and Israeli Jews. The Arab stranger and I both agreed that the situation could have ended up much worse. He said, “Baruch Hashem!” — Hebrew, not Arabic, for “Thank God.” Such events can evoke sweeping sentimental statements and oversimplified metaphors about how there will be peace “if only” this and “when only” that. I will try to refrain. Sometimes, though, we are given a glimpse. Sometimes we are not Arabs or Israelis or Americans or Muslims or Jews. Sometimes we are just two tiny men, sea-choked with fear, pushing three little girls toward the calm shore and the warm fires of their particular tribes.
When I first read Amos' story it hit me that it was a great metaphor for all of the holy land's people -- while some are actors in the violence, most have felt pulled out by a rip tide. And they all look for a human chain to remind them of Isaiah’s vision:
They shall not hurt or destroy in all my holy mountain – says Adonai.
Amos Oz, one of Israel’s greatest writers and a tireless advocate for peace, wrote recently that “it is deadly enemies, swearing to cheat and betray who sign peace treaties. This would be a divorce that results not in a honeymoon, but in an emotional de-escalation that will take generations. Look at the Europeans. It took them a thousand years to make peace. Even as they wag their fingers at us like a Victorian governess, they have a history of rivers of blood. I will risk a prophecy: It will not take the Middle East as long to make peace as it did Europe. And we’ll shed less blood.”
To quote a Yiddish saying on contemporary prophets: From his mouth to God’s ears.
"I create Jerusalem a rejoicing" - Isaiah 65
If there is peace in Pittsburgh, the residents of Squirrel Hill will rejoice – as will residents all around the three rivers, the suburbs, and much of Western Pennsylvania.
If there is peace in Belfast, not only Northern Ireland, but all of Ireland, indeed all of Great Britain will be able to breath a little easier.
No I do not wish to belittle Pittsburgh or Belfast…I wish them well.
But if there is peace in Jerusalem…if any person, from any nation could walk through the cobblestone paths of the shuk – offer prayers at the ancient churches, mosques, or synagogues and not once fear for their life – if never again would blood shed by bullet, rock or bomb have to be cleaned off those stones then this is a new earth. And if this is a new earth, when we gaze into the theological mirror we will see that there is also a new heavens.
In Isaiah’s words: I create Yerushalayim a rejoicing and all her inhabitants a joy – and the voice of weeping shall be heard no more, the voice of crying.
How is it that the restoration of Jerusalem will bring about a new earth?
Isaiah’s vision rests on an ancient idea about God and furniture. Like in Archie Bunker’s living room The heavens are God’s favorite chair, and one spot on earth where God’s feet touch the ground is Jerusalem. God’s footstool is the Holy City – and the giant Temple that once stood was like a big Ottoman. No wonder God is upset when the Temple is crushed by the Romans and the Jews are exiled to Iraq.
But why obsess about this one ancient walled city in a world with hundreds of ancient walled cities? What is so vital about this place built around a rock and some underground caves? If Abraham, Isaac and Jacob all overlooked it when building their altars, why should we be so concerned about this spot now? Tongues cleaving to the roofs our mouths like eating peanut butter from the jar with a spoon.
A local legend concerning Jerusalem, first recorded by the French ethnographer Alphonse de Lamartine in 1832 teaches us about the origin of the city.
It is said that a story of two brothers who lived on separate sides of a mountain. One was blessed with a large family, but was poor; the other was blessed with wealth, but had no family.
They became partners in a farm and split its produce evenly. Since they loved each other dearly, each felt the other’s plight. The wealthy brother thought, “My brother has a large family. He needs this more than I,” and he would secretly move some of his produce to his brother’s section in the middle of the night. The brother with the family thought, “My brother is all alone, with no one to take care of him. He needs this more than I,” and he would secretly move some of his produce to his brother’s section.
Each was amazed that, no matter how much he gave away, his produce did not diminish. Knowing that G-d works in mysterious ways, they didn’t question too much. Then late one night, they inadvertently ran into each other at the top of the mountain. Both were carrying some produce. They fell into each other’s arms and cried.
Their actions, so pure and selfless, affected the very mountain upon which they stood. G-d vowed that the divine presence would never leave this place. This farm later became a village, then a city, and eventually the capital of the Jewish nation under David.
So Jerusalem is, mythically, symbolic of the way in which we are to live with one another. As Ibn Ezra taught – Friendship is one heart in two bodies. Spiritually, looking toward’s Jerusalem’s walls we are to envision an ideal city – a city of God
If only we could look towards Jerusalem and think of it in this way today. Sadly, voices are calling from all sides that are undermining this message. Voices from within my own tradition that see in Jerusalem the restoration of an ancient theocracy, voices within Christian circles that see the blood in Jerusalem’s streets as fuel for a purifying global fire that will separate believers from heathens, and voices in the Islamic world which see it as a sacred land defiled and polluted by Jews and Christians alike. All of us, Christian, Jews, and Muslim, who envision Jerusalem as a city of coexistence – a city where all can worship in peace, have our work cut out for us.
From whence will help come from?
I want to make a radical suggestion. Perhaps the help will come from Tel Aviv. I say this after reading an e-mail from my friend Amos. He writes:
Yesterday we were at a beach north of Tel Aviv with a group of Israeli families. Soft waves, gentle breeze, a campfire, and an idyllic moonlit Mediterranean night. After dinner Maia 9his seven year old), and her friend — also named Maia — entered the water for a twilight swim. Perhaps 20 seconds later I followed them into the sea with Lea in my arms. By the time I was waist deep, a riptide had pulled the two Maias about 30 yards from the shore. They screamed for help as the rough sea wrestled them further and further out. Thinking I could stand as the girls were only 10 yards from me, I stepped out and extended my hand. But the riptide was fierce and sucked Lea and me right out with them. Out here the waves were choppy and tumultuous, and the three girls shrieked in panic. With Lea clinging to my neck screaming “I’m scared! I’m scared!” I tried calmly — and to no avail — to push each of the Maias alternately toward the beach. A dark man, roughly my age, appeared seemingly from nowhere. I could tell he wasn’t a strong swimmer, but together — both grunting and gasping — we tried pushing the three girls ashore. As we pushed one girl, one of the other two would submerge gagging under the vicious tide. I have lived through many things (including the mayhem of 9/11) and no fear in my life has come close to the thought of one of these three girls (and/or myself) dying just yards from the beach. Close to three excruciating minutes later, the stranger and I managed to push the two older girls to the safety of the shallow water. The two Maias sprinted to the beach, screaming for help, as the riptide continued pulling the stranger, Lea, and me back out to sea. I tried in both Hebrew and English to summon help from my friends on the beach. The sea was deafening and no one heard. Suddenly the stranger began waving his hands and shouting for help — in Arabic. Within 20 seconds a line of seven or eight men formed a human chain on the beach. A dark-skinned teenager scurried out on a boogie board. A proprietor from a nearby falafel stand darted into the waves with a lifesaver in hand. With the total coordination of the entire assembly, the falafel stand guy grabbed Lea, now hoarse with terror, and pushed her onto the lifesaver, and the human chain dragged the three of us back to the shallow water. After the trauma there were slaps on the back, thank-yous, and hugs. It was only then, after I finished heaving my guts out onto the nearby dunes, that I learned that the stranger was not only an Arab from a nearby village but also that he didn’t know how to swim. I learned, too, that the human chain that brought the five of us back to the shore comprised almost equally Israeli Arabs and Israeli Jews. The Arab stranger and I both agreed that the situation could have ended up much worse. He said, “Baruch Hashem!” — Hebrew, not Arabic, for “Thank God.” Such events can evoke sweeping sentimental statements and oversimplified metaphors about how there will be peace “if only” this and “when only” that. I will try to refrain. Sometimes, though, we are given a glimpse. Sometimes we are not Arabs or Israelis or Americans or Muslims or Jews. Sometimes we are just two tiny men, sea-choked with fear, pushing three little girls toward the calm shore and the warm fires of their particular tribes.
When I first read Amos' story it hit me that it was a great metaphor for all of the holy land's people -- while some are actors in the violence, most have felt pulled out by a rip tide. And they all look for a human chain to remind them of Isaiah’s vision:
They shall not hurt or destroy in all my holy mountain – says Adonai.
Amos Oz, one of Israel’s greatest writers and a tireless advocate for peace, wrote recently that “it is deadly enemies, swearing to cheat and betray who sign peace treaties. This would be a divorce that results not in a honeymoon, but in an emotional de-escalation that will take generations. Look at the Europeans. It took them a thousand years to make peace. Even as they wag their fingers at us like a Victorian governess, they have a history of rivers of blood. I will risk a prophecy: It will not take the Middle East as long to make peace as it did Europe. And we’ll shed less blood.”
To quote a Yiddish saying on contemporary prophets: From his mouth to God’s ears.
26.10.04
Clothes Make the Woman
I'll be hanging out with Jenna Weissman Joselit tonight at an event at the JCC. She's a visiting prof at Princeton and writes for the New Republic. Her book Wonders of America is a brilliant romp on assimilation.
20.10.04
Dabru Emet
I met yesterday with Rev. Chris Leighton of the National Institute of Jewish-Christian Studies down in Baltimore. He was up speaking with the Presbyterains Concerned for Jewish- Christian Relations, the group which continues to work on the recent anti-Israel actions of the Presbyterian general assembly.
Tickets! Get your tickets!
Tickets are now on sale for Vital Signs Play Festival, which features Driving School of America - my new one-act - running December 1-5.
18.10.04
Tradgedia
This past Sunday night I watched the Nir Bergman film Broken Wings -- a new Israeli film that speaks in a simple, raw emotional language. The film has shades of the Ice Storm and In America -- focusing on family tragedy and the search for something to hold onto when everything is lost. Stunning.
15.10.04
Talkin' 'bout my generation
I spent the first part of the week out in LA at the Faith, Fear and Indifference Conference at USC, which focused on how teenagers, post 9-11 think about religion. Moralistic Theraputic Deism was the big theme. But the highlights were Brother John from Taize and Amira Quraishi speaking on the Muslim Youth Camp. We had dinner with USC's president, who spoke about the unique role private schools have in fostering religious identity. It was inspiring.
5.10.04
Big News
In the big news department -- My latest play, Driving School of America has been accepted in Vital Signs 9 - a festival of one acts at the VitalTheater in New York. The theater is on 42nd street next to Playwright's Horizons and the run begins December 1st!!!!
A New Poem
Poetry is not my life
Ferllenghtti sits perched atop the bathroom radiator
And I savor a page every time my body recycles
Thanking God for the openings and the hollow places
And the subtlety of uncapitalized letters
Though a dozen boxes of notebooks with scribbled fragments of verse
will crush you if you attempt to open my closet door
Poetry is not my life
Though there was a time
When I left my cozy air conditioned world
rode a beat up bicycle to the dangerous part of town
Picked through dumpsters to find relics of reality
Searched for poems in the broken glass under the train tracks
Talked to old folks, whose bodies reeked of ten varieties of decay,
Whose untreated wounds had festered, discolored,
Whose rotted teeth clicked a different rhythm for each tale,
The young people called me ain’t from the ghetto
And that, too, I made into a poem
Poetry is not my life
What is?
Let me begin by saying that I’ve changed a thousand diapers
A real man changes a thousand diapers
But my beloved changed two thousand
So I best not open my mouth
Poetry is not my life
I pay bills for natural gas
I insulate the attic – it’s itchy
I work in front of a computer screen
I wash out the thermoses from the kid’s lunchboxes
Poetry is not my life
Thank God I have money
I like those English water crackers with a slice of fancy feta cheese
And my children have health care coverage
And I can do my laundry in my basement
When you have too little or too much
Money plays with your mind
Since I have some money
Poetry is not my life
My life is taking the shortcut through the tire store parking lot to catch the train
My life is trying to change the world by making minor adjustments
My life is trying to get my kids to finish their Cheerios
Oil changes
Dental appointments
E-mails
And though I wish I could end with irony
Poetry is not my life
Ferllenghtti sits perched atop the bathroom radiator
And I savor a page every time my body recycles
Thanking God for the openings and the hollow places
And the subtlety of uncapitalized letters
Though a dozen boxes of notebooks with scribbled fragments of verse
will crush you if you attempt to open my closet door
Poetry is not my life
Though there was a time
When I left my cozy air conditioned world
rode a beat up bicycle to the dangerous part of town
Picked through dumpsters to find relics of reality
Searched for poems in the broken glass under the train tracks
Talked to old folks, whose bodies reeked of ten varieties of decay,
Whose untreated wounds had festered, discolored,
Whose rotted teeth clicked a different rhythm for each tale,
The young people called me ain’t from the ghetto
And that, too, I made into a poem
Poetry is not my life
What is?
Let me begin by saying that I’ve changed a thousand diapers
A real man changes a thousand diapers
But my beloved changed two thousand
So I best not open my mouth
Poetry is not my life
I pay bills for natural gas
I insulate the attic – it’s itchy
I work in front of a computer screen
I wash out the thermoses from the kid’s lunchboxes
Poetry is not my life
Thank God I have money
I like those English water crackers with a slice of fancy feta cheese
And my children have health care coverage
And I can do my laundry in my basement
When you have too little or too much
Money plays with your mind
Since I have some money
Poetry is not my life
My life is taking the shortcut through the tire store parking lot to catch the train
My life is trying to change the world by making minor adjustments
My life is trying to get my kids to finish their Cheerios
Oil changes
Dental appointments
E-mails
And though I wish I could end with irony
Poetry is not my life
4.10.04
From Russia, With Love
I spoke to a delegation of Russian Muslims last week as part of a U.S. State Department visit. Here's a photo and brief description. When I spoke about Beslan and the horror I felt when seeing the killing of children in the school seige one of the women asked why Americans do not feel horror about the killing of Iraqi children by U.S. artillery. Intense moment.
23.9.04
FIGHT NIGHT!
FIGHTING THE HOLY WAR
THE ROLE OF THE WORLD’S RELIGIONS IN THE 21st CENTURY:
A BRIEFING FROM PARTICIPANTS IN
THE 2004 PARLIAMENT OF THE WORLD’S RELIGIONS
TUESDAY - SEPTEMBER 28th - 7 pm
JOIN A DISCUSSION WITH:
RABBI DANIEL BRENNER
DIRECTOR, CENTER FOR MULTIFAITH
EDUCATION - AUBURN SEMINARY
NURAH JETER AMAT’ULLAH
DIRECTOR, MUSLIM WOMEN’S INSTITUTE FOR RESEARCH AND DEVELOPMENT
SISTER JOAN KIRBY
U.N. REPRESENTATIVE, TEMPLE OF UNDERSTANDING
RENEE CHEROWE-O’LEARY
ASSISTANT PROFESSOR
COLUMBIA UNIVERISTY-TEACHER’S COLLEGE
MARK LARRIMORE
ASSISTANT PROFESSOR
RELIGION AND PHILOSOPHY-EUGENE LANGE COLLEGE
MICHAEL GOTTSEGEN
SENIOR FELLOW
NATIONAL JEWISH CENTER FOR LEARNING & LEADERSHIP
@ AUBURN THEOLOGICAL SEMINARY
121st and Broadway
THE ROLE OF THE WORLD’S RELIGIONS IN THE 21st CENTURY:
A BRIEFING FROM PARTICIPANTS IN
THE 2004 PARLIAMENT OF THE WORLD’S RELIGIONS
TUESDAY - SEPTEMBER 28th - 7 pm
JOIN A DISCUSSION WITH:
RABBI DANIEL BRENNER
DIRECTOR, CENTER FOR MULTIFAITH
EDUCATION - AUBURN SEMINARY
NURAH JETER AMAT’ULLAH
DIRECTOR, MUSLIM WOMEN’S INSTITUTE FOR RESEARCH AND DEVELOPMENT
SISTER JOAN KIRBY
U.N. REPRESENTATIVE, TEMPLE OF UNDERSTANDING
RENEE CHEROWE-O’LEARY
ASSISTANT PROFESSOR
COLUMBIA UNIVERISTY-TEACHER’S COLLEGE
MARK LARRIMORE
ASSISTANT PROFESSOR
RELIGION AND PHILOSOPHY-EUGENE LANGE COLLEGE
MICHAEL GOTTSEGEN
SENIOR FELLOW
NATIONAL JEWISH CENTER FOR LEARNING & LEADERSHIP
@ AUBURN THEOLOGICAL SEMINARY
121st and Broadway
13.9.04
Literary scribbles from New Jersey Transit
Poetry for the High Holidays 5765
I am allergic to prayer
I am allergic to prayer.
I write in the other slot.
Forms on a latex clipboard.
Doctor’s waiting room.
Checking off my imperfections.
To the rhythm of smooth jazz.
Soundtrack to boredom.
Supplications too.
And exultations, hoshannas,
Even hallelujahs.
I’m experiencing recurring liturgical aversions.
Is there some form of anti-something?
A booster shot? An elixir? A purple pill?
At fifteen I took a hayride around Stone Mountain, Georgia.
The flood gates of shiny liquid that I wiped on my hooded sweatshirt sleeve caused a thought bubble:
Hay fever – hay.
It was a great moment of ‘duh.’
Then it was grass, cats, dust.
And now this –
Sacred utterances, chants, even whispers –
Heck, I can’t even be around silent prayer.
I’m over-sensitive I guess.
So, Doc, please, I’m begging you,
Inject me with the strongest stuff you got.
I got to lead Kol Nidrei in two hours.
Overflow
The King sits on a high exalted throne
And here we are, in these folding chairs.
Overflow
They call it
But there is no flow
I can’t see the stage
They could be doing Falun Gong up there for all I know
And they’ve run out of prayerbooks
So I just stare down at my shoes
They need polishing
Maybe it’s time for new shoes
But I hate shopping
Better stick with the old ones
Maybe I can clean ‘em up a bit
And that’s when it hits me
That’s what this whole thing is about
Ahh! The shofar!
That is the kind of prayer I understand.
Who Shall Live
A layer of Saran Wrap
Protection
A shpritz of lemon juice
Secret
These red delicious will remain white
Without sin.
Who shall live?
And who shall dye their hair?
Who by pestilence?
Who by Pilates?
Nobody knows.
What is this ‘Jeopardy’?
Well it’s
Another year, spaceship earth has made one more elliptical orbit
-Planetarium narrator.
And I’m still here.
We’re still here.
God is the King
May the thorny crown be replaced by something more comfortable,
Say with a sweatband,
Perhaps in size six.
Heed the cry of the shofar!
Heed the blast of the shofar!
It is the cue for the kitchen help,
off with the Saran Wrap.
- Daniel Brenner
I am allergic to prayer
I am allergic to prayer.
I write in the other slot.
Forms on a latex clipboard.
Doctor’s waiting room.
Checking off my imperfections.
To the rhythm of smooth jazz.
Soundtrack to boredom.
Supplications too.
And exultations, hoshannas,
Even hallelujahs.
I’m experiencing recurring liturgical aversions.
Is there some form of anti-something?
A booster shot? An elixir? A purple pill?
At fifteen I took a hayride around Stone Mountain, Georgia.
The flood gates of shiny liquid that I wiped on my hooded sweatshirt sleeve caused a thought bubble:
Hay fever – hay.
It was a great moment of ‘duh.’
Then it was grass, cats, dust.
And now this –
Sacred utterances, chants, even whispers –
Heck, I can’t even be around silent prayer.
I’m over-sensitive I guess.
So, Doc, please, I’m begging you,
Inject me with the strongest stuff you got.
I got to lead Kol Nidrei in two hours.
Overflow
The King sits on a high exalted throne
And here we are, in these folding chairs.
Overflow
They call it
But there is no flow
I can’t see the stage
They could be doing Falun Gong up there for all I know
And they’ve run out of prayerbooks
So I just stare down at my shoes
They need polishing
Maybe it’s time for new shoes
But I hate shopping
Better stick with the old ones
Maybe I can clean ‘em up a bit
And that’s when it hits me
That’s what this whole thing is about
Ahh! The shofar!
That is the kind of prayer I understand.
Who Shall Live
A layer of Saran Wrap
Protection
A shpritz of lemon juice
Secret
These red delicious will remain white
Without sin.
Who shall live?
And who shall dye their hair?
Who by pestilence?
Who by Pilates?
Nobody knows.
What is this ‘Jeopardy’?
Well it’s
Another year, spaceship earth has made one more elliptical orbit
-Planetarium narrator.
And I’m still here.
We’re still here.
God is the King
May the thorny crown be replaced by something more comfortable,
Say with a sweatband,
Perhaps in size six.
Heed the cry of the shofar!
Heed the blast of the shofar!
It is the cue for the kitchen help,
off with the Saran Wrap.
- Daniel Brenner
7.9.04
what i did this summer
A Report from the Parliament of the World’s Religions
By Rabbi Daniel Brenner
Over the drone of the harmonium in the Sikh’s makeshift Gudwara, I overheard a Buddhist monk and a Sikh discussing species extinction and reincarnation:
“What if a person’s soul is destined for a near extinct species, like the spotted owl?” the monk asked.
“If the species becomes extinct then would that soul be stuck in limbo for eternity?”
The Parliament of World’s Religions, an idea that was born at the Columbia exposition of the 1893 Chicago World’s Fair, was abuzz with questions sprung from the scuffle between traditional religious thought and new realities. Held this July at Barcelona’s new seaside conference center, the Parliament attracted some eight thousand religious adherents from around the globe to hear recent Nobel Prize winner Shirin Ebadi and countless other presenters listed in the two hundred and fifty-nine page program book address what has become a world increasingly torn by religious conflicts.
What message can be heard over F-15s and car bombs? Can we teach religious tolerance and understanding to those who see the world through the lens of conflict? For the year leading up to the conference, Lee Hancock and I met with leaders of ten other New York based religious organizations to debate that question. The result was planning the largest symposium of the parliament – a three-day focus on interfaith education. Our collaborative, called the Consultation for Interfaith Education, put together an international program of twenty-five sessions, with nearly fifty presenters keynoted by the XIVth Dalai Lama.
Spain, which suffered national turmoil during the massive terror attack in Madrid this past year, turned out to be an ideal location for the conference. And though surveillance was high, with two airport like security searches required to attend the sessions, crowds flocked to hear moderate Muslims, like Ayatollah Hadvhi Tehrani, speak on coexistence.
And while the Dalai Lama’s poor health prevented him from joining us, the consultation turned out to be a big draw. Here are a few stories:
The minute after I checked into my hotel, a gentleman with a dark beard approached me in the lobby.
“You Jewish rabbi?” He asked.
“Yes,” I replied.
“Do you like Martin Buber?” He asked, mispronouncing the name of one of Judaism’s most influential philosophers, rhyming it with Flubber.
“Yes.” I replied.
“I translate him for graduate students, University of Teheran!”
I immediately invited him to join us in the symposium, and a few days later we both ended up having a conversation about religious extremism with an Indian woman who teaches in South Africa.
“My grandfather would be so upset if he saw what was going on in the Middle East right now” she said.
“What did your grandfather do?” I asked.
“He was Mahatma Gandhi.”
Whoops.
On another day of the conference, Dr. Hasan Al-Assady, an Iraqi psychologist, spoke of both the fears he held regarding extremists and the promise of a new era of freedom in Iraq.
“Did you have any trouble getting out of Iraq during a time of military occupation?” someone from the audience asked after his speech.
“Yes. My truck overheated!” Al-Assady answered, which turned out to be a refreshing humorous moment during a rather academic session.
There were also moments that were touching. After a panel of religious leaders from Israel debated the legacy of Isaac and Ishmael, one of East Jerusalem’s Imam’s gave a long and lovely bear hug to Rabbi David Rosen from West Jerusalem. And at a panel that my wife Lisa attended, for women only, I heard that deeper breakthroughs were taking place. An Orthodox Jewish woman whose son had been severely injured by a Palestinian terrorist’s bomb was listening to the story of a Palestinian woman whose child had been killed by an Israeli soldier. “I carried so much anger in my heart” the Palestinian woman said, “that it began to poison me.”
The Parliament affirmed that religious dialogue has the potential to overcome underlying mistrust. And although the parliament is a microcosm of those already committed to such work, it displays the growing international efforts to bridge traditional religious communities.
A final note - One of my personal highlights was the opportunity to moderate a panel with the renowned Catholic theologian Raimon Pannikar. Pannikar, who was born in Barcelona in 1918 to a Hindu father and a Catholic mother, is regarded as a local saint. Overflow crowds gathered to hear him speak of a cosmotheandric vision in which understanding the simultaneous unity and trinity of the divine, human, and earthly realms is the unifying theme of world religions. Pannikar also had the most quotable remark from the symposium. Claiming that exclusivists, those who insisted that the world could only be understood through the lens of their own tradition, are colorblind he called out “Let us see the colors through this dialogue!”
By the way, the answer to the monk’s question about the spotted owl is that the cycle of reincarnation can be disturbed by species extinction. Proof again that sometimes it is the most esoteric of ideas that push us humans to value the diversity of the planet.
By Rabbi Daniel Brenner
Over the drone of the harmonium in the Sikh’s makeshift Gudwara, I overheard a Buddhist monk and a Sikh discussing species extinction and reincarnation:
“What if a person’s soul is destined for a near extinct species, like the spotted owl?” the monk asked.
“If the species becomes extinct then would that soul be stuck in limbo for eternity?”
The Parliament of World’s Religions, an idea that was born at the Columbia exposition of the 1893 Chicago World’s Fair, was abuzz with questions sprung from the scuffle between traditional religious thought and new realities. Held this July at Barcelona’s new seaside conference center, the Parliament attracted some eight thousand religious adherents from around the globe to hear recent Nobel Prize winner Shirin Ebadi and countless other presenters listed in the two hundred and fifty-nine page program book address what has become a world increasingly torn by religious conflicts.
What message can be heard over F-15s and car bombs? Can we teach religious tolerance and understanding to those who see the world through the lens of conflict? For the year leading up to the conference, Lee Hancock and I met with leaders of ten other New York based religious organizations to debate that question. The result was planning the largest symposium of the parliament – a three-day focus on interfaith education. Our collaborative, called the Consultation for Interfaith Education, put together an international program of twenty-five sessions, with nearly fifty presenters keynoted by the XIVth Dalai Lama.
Spain, which suffered national turmoil during the massive terror attack in Madrid this past year, turned out to be an ideal location for the conference. And though surveillance was high, with two airport like security searches required to attend the sessions, crowds flocked to hear moderate Muslims, like Ayatollah Hadvhi Tehrani, speak on coexistence.
And while the Dalai Lama’s poor health prevented him from joining us, the consultation turned out to be a big draw. Here are a few stories:
The minute after I checked into my hotel, a gentleman with a dark beard approached me in the lobby.
“You Jewish rabbi?” He asked.
“Yes,” I replied.
“Do you like Martin Buber?” He asked, mispronouncing the name of one of Judaism’s most influential philosophers, rhyming it with Flubber.
“Yes.” I replied.
“I translate him for graduate students, University of Teheran!”
I immediately invited him to join us in the symposium, and a few days later we both ended up having a conversation about religious extremism with an Indian woman who teaches in South Africa.
“My grandfather would be so upset if he saw what was going on in the Middle East right now” she said.
“What did your grandfather do?” I asked.
“He was Mahatma Gandhi.”
Whoops.
On another day of the conference, Dr. Hasan Al-Assady, an Iraqi psychologist, spoke of both the fears he held regarding extremists and the promise of a new era of freedom in Iraq.
“Did you have any trouble getting out of Iraq during a time of military occupation?” someone from the audience asked after his speech.
“Yes. My truck overheated!” Al-Assady answered, which turned out to be a refreshing humorous moment during a rather academic session.
There were also moments that were touching. After a panel of religious leaders from Israel debated the legacy of Isaac and Ishmael, one of East Jerusalem’s Imam’s gave a long and lovely bear hug to Rabbi David Rosen from West Jerusalem. And at a panel that my wife Lisa attended, for women only, I heard that deeper breakthroughs were taking place. An Orthodox Jewish woman whose son had been severely injured by a Palestinian terrorist’s bomb was listening to the story of a Palestinian woman whose child had been killed by an Israeli soldier. “I carried so much anger in my heart” the Palestinian woman said, “that it began to poison me.”
The Parliament affirmed that religious dialogue has the potential to overcome underlying mistrust. And although the parliament is a microcosm of those already committed to such work, it displays the growing international efforts to bridge traditional religious communities.
A final note - One of my personal highlights was the opportunity to moderate a panel with the renowned Catholic theologian Raimon Pannikar. Pannikar, who was born in Barcelona in 1918 to a Hindu father and a Catholic mother, is regarded as a local saint. Overflow crowds gathered to hear him speak of a cosmotheandric vision in which understanding the simultaneous unity and trinity of the divine, human, and earthly realms is the unifying theme of world religions. Pannikar also had the most quotable remark from the symposium. Claiming that exclusivists, those who insisted that the world could only be understood through the lens of their own tradition, are colorblind he called out “Let us see the colors through this dialogue!”
By the way, the answer to the monk’s question about the spotted owl is that the cycle of reincarnation can be disturbed by species extinction. Proof again that sometimes it is the most esoteric of ideas that push us humans to value the diversity of the planet.
26.8.04
Spirituality and Health hitting the newstands
I just got my first article in a glossy magazine -- Spirituality and Health -- October issue. This is the piece I wrote awhile back on 'under God'
While I proudly placed the mag on the radiator by the toilet (I got an advanced copy in the mail) it has a bizarre ad for a biofeedback video game on the back cover that is freaking me out.
http://www.spiritualityhealth.com/newsh/items/blank/item_3019.html
Under God
By Rabbi Daniel S. Brenner
Now that the Supreme Court has ruled not to hear the “under God” case, and to basically let this insertion into the pledge stand, I think that we as a nation have become stuck, theologically speaking.
As a child sent to a religious day school I could not help but feel that God was watching me from above every time I sat on the toilet. I also sensed that God watched sporting events, occasionally guiding basketballs into hoops from half-court (Dick Vital yelling “Hail Mary!”). In fact, all people were living under God – a deity above us peering down like the manager of the A&P from his perch atop the customer service desk. Where did we get the idea that God was on top of us? How did we get under God in the first place?
I ask this question because as my theology has matured, I have come to learn that God, as conveyed in the Five Books of Moses, is not only up in the sky, but very down-to-earth. God is present in rocky valleys, bushes, even inside of tents. Jacob wakes up from sleeping on a stone pillow and says, “God was in this place and I, and I did not know it!” God in a thorn bush says to Moses “I will be what I will be,” a cloud called “God’s glory” enters the sacred tent before the children of Israel.
So how did God become on high – and as a result we become under God? The source for the phrase “God on high” is an obscure name for God in the Book of Genesis that is uttered by Melchizedek of Salem, one of the Kings who tries to butter-up Abraham. In doing so, he praises Eyl Elyon, which literally means “God on top” but is translated as “Most High God” or “God on High.” Interestingly, none of the patriarchs or matriarchs ever refers to God with this name. Rather, they have a more expansive knowledge of God, and elsewhere in Genesis, we can hear it echoed in Jacob’s blessing: “by the God of your father, who will help you, by El Shaddai, who will bless you with blessings from the sky above and blessings from the deep, lying below, blessings from the breasts and the womb.”
One of my teachers in seminary, the historian Tikve Frymer-Kensky, spoke of the Biblical God as one that is synthesized from the ancient sky gods and the ancient earth gods (as well as a few other gods with varying genders) into one deity. The innovation was to create one unified name for all of the powers that compelled the natural world. And in the Bible, God speaks from within these forces-- "Out of the heavens God let you hear His voice to guide you,” we read in the fourth chapter of Deuteronomy, “and on earth God let you see His great fire, and you heard His words from the midst of the fire.”
So, from this expansive Biblical vision of God in which God permeates all of reality, in both the elemental and the human realms, how did we get into thinking of ourselves as simply ‘under’ God?
The vast majority of the metaphors used to describe God on high come in later books, most notably the Psalms, which are replete with poetic language that describes God in this way. God is ‘above the heavens,’ is the ‘King of Kings’, is the ‘Judge on high seated on his throne’. Those metaphors would surely place us under God - but the author of the Psalms also includes conceptions that are more earthbound. God is a rock, God a fortress, God a dwelling place. And there are conceptual names for God – God as truth, salvation, exceeding joy – that have nothing to do with location.
Why does it matter so much for us to dissect the phrase under God? In part this matters because we are increasingly becoming a more religiously diverse nation.
At a time when religious totalitarianism is making a comeback around the globe, we should recognize our diversity – the fact that while some Americans do envision that believers are below and God is above, others see God within, God as permeating all things, God as manifest in multiple realities or God as a force that by definition can not be limited to human conceptions. There are even a few folks who proudly call themselves ‘godless.’ In short, if the pledge were an actual reflection of America's theological diversity it would have to have a section with a "fill in the blank."
But there is a more important reason for us to revise the language ‘under’ God. We live in an era where it is not only up to God’s watchful eye whether we live or die – but also up to us. As we continue to poison the planet and march faster to ecocide, both God’s immanence in creation and human responsibility as caretakers for the earth should be implicit in our theology.
Yes, God is cosmic. When I look up at the night sky, I see a reflection of God’s glory. But I also see it as I dig in the muck of growth and decay in the garden. And that time that I went snorkeling in the Gulf of Aqaba – that was a blessing from the depths. But most importantly, I sense God’s presence as a force that exists between people when they are reflecting the attributes of understanding, kindness, support, mercy, and justice.
So I think that it is unfortunate that the Supreme Court has passed this opportunity to examine “Under God” and recognize the phrases’ limits. The phrase reverts us back to the ancient sky god and reinforces the notion that God can only be understood as a judge or king who looks down on us. God is much more.
While I proudly placed the mag on the radiator by the toilet (I got an advanced copy in the mail) it has a bizarre ad for a biofeedback video game on the back cover that is freaking me out.
http://www.spiritualityhealth.com/newsh/items/blank/item_3019.html
Under God
By Rabbi Daniel S. Brenner
Now that the Supreme Court has ruled not to hear the “under God” case, and to basically let this insertion into the pledge stand, I think that we as a nation have become stuck, theologically speaking.
As a child sent to a religious day school I could not help but feel that God was watching me from above every time I sat on the toilet. I also sensed that God watched sporting events, occasionally guiding basketballs into hoops from half-court (Dick Vital yelling “Hail Mary!”). In fact, all people were living under God – a deity above us peering down like the manager of the A&P from his perch atop the customer service desk. Where did we get the idea that God was on top of us? How did we get under God in the first place?
I ask this question because as my theology has matured, I have come to learn that God, as conveyed in the Five Books of Moses, is not only up in the sky, but very down-to-earth. God is present in rocky valleys, bushes, even inside of tents. Jacob wakes up from sleeping on a stone pillow and says, “God was in this place and I, and I did not know it!” God in a thorn bush says to Moses “I will be what I will be,” a cloud called “God’s glory” enters the sacred tent before the children of Israel.
So how did God become on high – and as a result we become under God? The source for the phrase “God on high” is an obscure name for God in the Book of Genesis that is uttered by Melchizedek of Salem, one of the Kings who tries to butter-up Abraham. In doing so, he praises Eyl Elyon, which literally means “God on top” but is translated as “Most High God” or “God on High.” Interestingly, none of the patriarchs or matriarchs ever refers to God with this name. Rather, they have a more expansive knowledge of God, and elsewhere in Genesis, we can hear it echoed in Jacob’s blessing: “by the God of your father, who will help you, by El Shaddai, who will bless you with blessings from the sky above and blessings from the deep, lying below, blessings from the breasts and the womb.”
One of my teachers in seminary, the historian Tikve Frymer-Kensky, spoke of the Biblical God as one that is synthesized from the ancient sky gods and the ancient earth gods (as well as a few other gods with varying genders) into one deity. The innovation was to create one unified name for all of the powers that compelled the natural world. And in the Bible, God speaks from within these forces-- "Out of the heavens God let you hear His voice to guide you,” we read in the fourth chapter of Deuteronomy, “and on earth God let you see His great fire, and you heard His words from the midst of the fire.”
So, from this expansive Biblical vision of God in which God permeates all of reality, in both the elemental and the human realms, how did we get into thinking of ourselves as simply ‘under’ God?
The vast majority of the metaphors used to describe God on high come in later books, most notably the Psalms, which are replete with poetic language that describes God in this way. God is ‘above the heavens,’ is the ‘King of Kings’, is the ‘Judge on high seated on his throne’. Those metaphors would surely place us under God - but the author of the Psalms also includes conceptions that are more earthbound. God is a rock, God a fortress, God a dwelling place. And there are conceptual names for God – God as truth, salvation, exceeding joy – that have nothing to do with location.
Why does it matter so much for us to dissect the phrase under God? In part this matters because we are increasingly becoming a more religiously diverse nation.
At a time when religious totalitarianism is making a comeback around the globe, we should recognize our diversity – the fact that while some Americans do envision that believers are below and God is above, others see God within, God as permeating all things, God as manifest in multiple realities or God as a force that by definition can not be limited to human conceptions. There are even a few folks who proudly call themselves ‘godless.’ In short, if the pledge were an actual reflection of America's theological diversity it would have to have a section with a "fill in the blank."
But there is a more important reason for us to revise the language ‘under’ God. We live in an era where it is not only up to God’s watchful eye whether we live or die – but also up to us. As we continue to poison the planet and march faster to ecocide, both God’s immanence in creation and human responsibility as caretakers for the earth should be implicit in our theology.
Yes, God is cosmic. When I look up at the night sky, I see a reflection of God’s glory. But I also see it as I dig in the muck of growth and decay in the garden. And that time that I went snorkeling in the Gulf of Aqaba – that was a blessing from the depths. But most importantly, I sense God’s presence as a force that exists between people when they are reflecting the attributes of understanding, kindness, support, mercy, and justice.
So I think that it is unfortunate that the Supreme Court has passed this opportunity to examine “Under God” and recognize the phrases’ limits. The phrase reverts us back to the ancient sky god and reinforces the notion that God can only be understood as a judge or king who looks down on us. God is much more.
23.8.04
A Message for the New Year
Here is the piece that I'll be submitting to the String of Pearls newsletter:
Elohim, ten li et h'atikvah lekabel ma she'ein Ten li et hakoach leshanot et ma sheken. et haomets lenasot letaken et ha'olam.
G-d, give me the hope to accept what there isn't
Give me the strength to change what is
Give me the courage to try to fix the world.
These words, although they could have been chanted in a Psalm by King David, a poem by Yehudah Halevi, or a prayer by Levi of Berdichev, are from Israeli hip hop artist Subliminal. He writes:
You promised a dove, in the sky there's a hawk
Brother, poisonous twig pricks, this is not an olive branch
Living in a dream, everybody talks about peace
But they shoot, oppress, pull, squeeze the trigger
In a world of suicide attacks, the people are still talking
Living in an illusion of righteousness, they widen the rift in the nation.
Pass madness every day in order to survive
Don't want to live in order to fight,
I fight in order to live
Plant hope, send out roots Shield in my body for the dream so it won't be shattered to splinters
Enough, enough with the hurt, enough with the tears
A year that the land bleeds not sleeping and why?
The line I love to repeat is “plant hope, send out roots, shield in my body for the dream.”
And this summer I had an amazing opportunity to plant some hope within me. In July, Lisa and I traveled (sans kids – thanks Silbermans!) to the Parliament of the World’s Religions in Barcelona. This event, held every five years, brought eight thousand religious people from across the globe for religious dialogue. At a time when religious extremists seem to have grabbed hold of our global steering wheel, this gathering was like a collective act of putting on the brakes, saying, “Stop – What are we killing each other over?” Sitting on the floor of the Sikh Gudwara eating a simple bowl of lentils and speaking with religious leaders from Iran, Iraq, and elsewhere, I felt that perhaps voices advocating peace can take the wheel back and steer it in the direction that we all need to go in – towards a sustainable planet. But I know that it will take much work to do this.
The High Holidays are also about taking hold of the wheel. We ask: What direction am I headed in? How do I get back to that place where I did feel at peace? How can I drive through this storm?
To answer these questions we must stop our routine and enter into another space. We put the brakes on – and we reflect. At the end, perhaps we can plant some hope - Hope that will send out roots for the coming year.
Shana Tovah U’Metukah
Elohim, ten li et h'atikvah lekabel ma she'ein Ten li et hakoach leshanot et ma sheken. et haomets lenasot letaken et ha'olam.
G-d, give me the hope to accept what there isn't
Give me the strength to change what is
Give me the courage to try to fix the world.
These words, although they could have been chanted in a Psalm by King David, a poem by Yehudah Halevi, or a prayer by Levi of Berdichev, are from Israeli hip hop artist Subliminal. He writes:
You promised a dove, in the sky there's a hawk
Brother, poisonous twig pricks, this is not an olive branch
Living in a dream, everybody talks about peace
But they shoot, oppress, pull, squeeze the trigger
In a world of suicide attacks, the people are still talking
Living in an illusion of righteousness, they widen the rift in the nation.
Pass madness every day in order to survive
Don't want to live in order to fight,
I fight in order to live
Plant hope, send out roots Shield in my body for the dream so it won't be shattered to splinters
Enough, enough with the hurt, enough with the tears
A year that the land bleeds not sleeping and why?
The line I love to repeat is “plant hope, send out roots, shield in my body for the dream.”
And this summer I had an amazing opportunity to plant some hope within me. In July, Lisa and I traveled (sans kids – thanks Silbermans!) to the Parliament of the World’s Religions in Barcelona. This event, held every five years, brought eight thousand religious people from across the globe for religious dialogue. At a time when religious extremists seem to have grabbed hold of our global steering wheel, this gathering was like a collective act of putting on the brakes, saying, “Stop – What are we killing each other over?” Sitting on the floor of the Sikh Gudwara eating a simple bowl of lentils and speaking with religious leaders from Iran, Iraq, and elsewhere, I felt that perhaps voices advocating peace can take the wheel back and steer it in the direction that we all need to go in – towards a sustainable planet. But I know that it will take much work to do this.
The High Holidays are also about taking hold of the wheel. We ask: What direction am I headed in? How do I get back to that place where I did feel at peace? How can I drive through this storm?
To answer these questions we must stop our routine and enter into another space. We put the brakes on – and we reflect. At the end, perhaps we can plant some hope - Hope that will send out roots for the coming year.
Shana Tovah U’Metukah
17.8.04
Responses keep popping up to my article (originally in the Forward) about ground zero
from www.nickdenton.org
Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you
A brilliantly counter-intuitive idea from Daniel Brenner about the rebuilding of the site of the World Trade Center. "Building a mosque on the site would also send a message to the Islamic world about America, and our commitment to the freedom of religion. At a time when many Muslims are being fed endless distortions about America and what we value, it will take more than a publicity mission by Muhammad Ali to change America’s image."
From Nick Bruner
Build a Mosque on Ground Zero
I love this idea. Daniel Brenner, writing on BeliefNet, suggests that we use Ground Zero in part to build an inter-faith center, featuring a mosque, a church and a synagogue. Personally, I'm an athiest, or agnostic at best, but I can't think of a better message to send to Al Qaeda and their like than to demonstrate the openness of our society with action.
Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you
A brilliantly counter-intuitive idea from Daniel Brenner about the rebuilding of the site of the World Trade Center. "Building a mosque on the site would also send a message to the Islamic world about America, and our commitment to the freedom of religion. At a time when many Muslims are being fed endless distortions about America and what we value, it will take more than a publicity mission by Muhammad Ali to change America’s image."
From Nick Bruner
Build a Mosque on Ground Zero
I love this idea. Daniel Brenner, writing on BeliefNet, suggests that we use Ground Zero in part to build an inter-faith center, featuring a mosque, a church and a synagogue. Personally, I'm an athiest, or agnostic at best, but I can't think of a better message to send to Al Qaeda and their like than to demonstrate the openness of our society with action.
On Humanism and "God"
Nothing drives me more crazy than when I hear an athlete thanking God for a 3-pointer, a twenty foot putt, or a touchdown. “Do you mean to tell me that God sits around guiding balls into particular places?” I wonder, “A God in the sky with two hundred channels of ESPN watching and working magic with each play?”
Moments like these make me tempted to buy into the philosophy of men like Sherwin Wine. Sherwin Wine, the Michigan Rabbi and chief proponent of Humanist Judaism has a lot to say about God. “God is an ordinary English word like ‘table’ ‘chair’ or ‘rug’”, Wine argues, a word which he is “sick and tired of using.” Wine views God-talk as irrational, and ultimately as a source of human confusion that undermines our ethical strivings.
So, would it be better to rid ourselves of the irrational God-talk that we hear from athletes, hurricane victims, movie stars, even public officials? Would it be in our interest to replace the outmoded prayers of synagogue life with poetic musings of a different sort?
After many years dwelling on this question, I’ve come to some conclusions.
The word “God” is not like “table” but a lot like the word “love”. Imagine writing a valentine to your sweetie which said “We are mutually compatible partners and we have developed a trusting relationship which I value very deeply”
They’d respond “What about saying ‘I Love You’?”
You’d argue—“Hey, I don’t ‘believe’ in ‘love’. But all the things that you mean by love are in my letter to you.”
They’d say “Just tell me that you love me!”
You’d reread the card. They’d begin packing their socks.
Here’s my analogy, “Love” like the word “God” is used to describe a totality of experience that we can’t fully describe.
For example, someone recovers from an illness, and they say “thank God”. I hear this a lot, but I don’t understand them as saying “thank the chief executive officer of bodily function in the sky”—what I hear is “I am in a state of gratitude to the totality of my experience—the doctors, the medicines, the nurses, the support of my family, the elements of chance, everything.” It is that everything which we cannot fully describe that we call God.
And that is what I use the word “God” to mean-- “the totality of connections that I can’t even begin to describe.”
Sherwin Wine would call my desire to reconcile with the word God a “apologizing, redefining, and explaining” of theology.
But I think that this definition of God is a healthy one, and one grounded in the tradition. The Kaddish says “God is beyond all blessings, poems, and worship” The Yigdal reads “God is unknowable, and there is no end to God’s unity” i.e. no language can capture what the word “God” means. In prayer “God” is a code word for “totality beyond description” like “love” is a code word for “feelings beyond description”
I could give other examples of how I understand Judaism to advocate for such a God. Yet the basic understanding is this—by removing God from the earth-bound (no idols or men are God) we have made “God” a force that is beyond body and language. And even though we may use body and language to speak of God, we are doing so poetically, conscious that the real picture is more than our personal descriptions.
The reality is that if we don’t take it into our own hands to “redefine” / “reconstruct” God, then we’re leaving it in the hands of some rather narrow-minded people. They will define “God”, and they have a pretty nasty track record concerning how their definition leads to irrational ends.
So there you have it, I believe in God. And though I cringe when I hear God attributed to a home run or a slicing backhand or a 7-10 split, part of me says “Yeah, this ball moving in such a way at this very moment is beyond description, and this person is experiencing the totality of existence…so, hey, why not?”
Moments like these make me tempted to buy into the philosophy of men like Sherwin Wine. Sherwin Wine, the Michigan Rabbi and chief proponent of Humanist Judaism has a lot to say about God. “God is an ordinary English word like ‘table’ ‘chair’ or ‘rug’”, Wine argues, a word which he is “sick and tired of using.” Wine views God-talk as irrational, and ultimately as a source of human confusion that undermines our ethical strivings.
So, would it be better to rid ourselves of the irrational God-talk that we hear from athletes, hurricane victims, movie stars, even public officials? Would it be in our interest to replace the outmoded prayers of synagogue life with poetic musings of a different sort?
After many years dwelling on this question, I’ve come to some conclusions.
The word “God” is not like “table” but a lot like the word “love”. Imagine writing a valentine to your sweetie which said “We are mutually compatible partners and we have developed a trusting relationship which I value very deeply”
They’d respond “What about saying ‘I Love You’?”
You’d argue—“Hey, I don’t ‘believe’ in ‘love’. But all the things that you mean by love are in my letter to you.”
They’d say “Just tell me that you love me!”
You’d reread the card. They’d begin packing their socks.
Here’s my analogy, “Love” like the word “God” is used to describe a totality of experience that we can’t fully describe.
For example, someone recovers from an illness, and they say “thank God”. I hear this a lot, but I don’t understand them as saying “thank the chief executive officer of bodily function in the sky”—what I hear is “I am in a state of gratitude to the totality of my experience—the doctors, the medicines, the nurses, the support of my family, the elements of chance, everything.” It is that everything which we cannot fully describe that we call God.
And that is what I use the word “God” to mean-- “the totality of connections that I can’t even begin to describe.”
Sherwin Wine would call my desire to reconcile with the word God a “apologizing, redefining, and explaining” of theology.
But I think that this definition of God is a healthy one, and one grounded in the tradition. The Kaddish says “God is beyond all blessings, poems, and worship” The Yigdal reads “God is unknowable, and there is no end to God’s unity” i.e. no language can capture what the word “God” means. In prayer “God” is a code word for “totality beyond description” like “love” is a code word for “feelings beyond description”
I could give other examples of how I understand Judaism to advocate for such a God. Yet the basic understanding is this—by removing God from the earth-bound (no idols or men are God) we have made “God” a force that is beyond body and language. And even though we may use body and language to speak of God, we are doing so poetically, conscious that the real picture is more than our personal descriptions.
The reality is that if we don’t take it into our own hands to “redefine” / “reconstruct” God, then we’re leaving it in the hands of some rather narrow-minded people. They will define “God”, and they have a pretty nasty track record concerning how their definition leads to irrational ends.
So there you have it, I believe in God. And though I cringe when I hear God attributed to a home run or a slicing backhand or a 7-10 split, part of me says “Yeah, this ball moving in such a way at this very moment is beyond description, and this person is experiencing the totality of existence…so, hey, why not?”
The Big Mess
The Big Mess about Messianic Jews
By Rabbi Daniel Brenner
As a rabbi who works each day with Presbyterian ministers and lay people at a historic Presbyterian seminary, I have to admit that I was deeply concerned when I received word that a “Messianic Jewish Community” opened in a Philadelphia suburb with over $300,000 of Presbyterian Church USA money. The new church (which does not call itself a church) is named Avodat Yisrael, which literally means “sacrifice of Israel”, and it opened in Plymouth Meeting, Pennsylvania. Since its first service, on Rosh Hashanah, I’ve heard that few people have actually joined the congregation but that many questions have been raised. Some have asked - What is so offensive to the Jewish community about Messianic Jews? Others want to know –Is there any way that Presbyterian churches can reach out to Jews without causing a media frenzy?
These are challenging times for those of us who are committed not just to individual clergy or houses of worship, but to national religious organizations. More people are choosing their religious identity the way they choose items at a salad bar, a story told best in books like Generation of Seekers and Spiritual Marketplace by Wade Clark Roof. As a result, there is theological fluidity, borrowing of ritual, and a general freedom to create religious life that is unprecedented.
These forces are not necessarily detrimental to traditional religious communities. As a rabbi, I have viewed genuine Christian interest in Jewish ritual and practice as an overwhelmingly positive development, one that is by no means a new phenomenon. The many Christian communities who hold Passover Seders are just one example of this flowering of Jewish ritual in the church. Rabbis across the country who serve on local clergy councils have truly enjoyed teaching for Christian groups and have seen first hand the sincere desire for spiritual dialogue that exists between Christians and Jews. It is of no surprise to me that some Christians are even interested in learning Hebrew, studying kabbalah, and reading Chassidic tales. I know that many Christians have discovered the Judaica section of their local Barnes & Noble or independent bookstore and have begun to read about Jewish history and religious life. The vast majority of Presbyterians and others who seek out Jewish practices and Jewish insights, or even read a Bruce Feiler book on the Bible, do so in a desire to deepen their relationship to Christ and do so with a genuine respect for Judaism.
It is also true that in a society that is increasingly open, people choose to convert to a religion that they did not grow up with. The latest National Jewish Population study found that many Christians have found homes in the Jewish community and that many Jews have chosen to join Christian communities. In working with Presbyterians, I have heard stories of the Jewish men and women who have become active in churches across the country. Many of these folks are Jews who have married committed Protestants, but some fall into the category of intellectual or spiritual seekers. In their new homes they have found the religious community that they were seeking. Lauren Winner’s recent book Girl Gets God tells her story of a Jewish seeker finding Christ, and in my work I have met not only Christian lay leaders, but Christian ministers who grew up in Jewish homes. Their spiritual journeys led not simply to an embrace of Christ’s teachings, but to a decision to become part of the Church, to enter the covenant of the church community, and to carry on the church’s historical legacy. These folks do not call themselves Messianic Jews. Rather, they are proud to be Christians, and carry in their hearts the Church’s struggles between tradition and innovation.
Messianic Jews are a different type of spiritual seeker. In contrast to Jews who become Christians, most Messianic Jews do not want to be called Christians (hence the title “Messianic Jews” instead of “Hebrew Christians” – an earlier manifestation of their religious community) or to call their congregations churches. Instead, they emphatically state that they are Jewish – Jews who pray in the name of Jesus. Among Messianics there is some disagreement about what type of Judaism they are. To quote one Messianic Jewish leader, Michael Wolf, his mission is to “Commit to, and grow in a lifestyle of faith called Biblical Judaism.” A leader of another wing of Messianic Jews, Stuart Dauerman, claims that “Messianic Judaism is a Judaism, and not a cosmetically altered "Jewish-style" version of what is extant in the wider Christian community.” Many Messianic Jews view Christianity from the third century onward to be an aberration of Christ’s teachings and they argue that to join a Christian church would be to “assimilate” into a European Christianity that is antithetical to Jews. The Union of Messianic Judaism’s recent paper Defining Messianic Judaism calls Presbyterians and others “the Gentile Church”. In some communities there has even been heated discussion about whether Christians who join Messianic Synagogues must convert to Judaism to be full members or to participate in all activities in the congregation – for example, the Union has stated that “Gentiles are certainly welcome within Messianic Jewish Congregations…but congregations remain Jewish, not expressions of ‘one new man’ that is neither Jew nor Greek. Much of their life is based, not strictly on Scripture or on universal precepts for all believers, but on Jewish teaching and tradition. Gentiles moved by Ahavat Yisrael will participate in the Messianic Jewish congregation on these terms.”
Messianic Jews are creating an interesting hybrid religious identity – one that satisfies their personal desires to carry on talmudic based religious rituals and one that gives them a Hebraic path to accepting Yeshua, Jesus. They have taken two traditions that were often at odds with one another (with Jews often the persecuted party) and have inherited the theological, ritual and historical confusion inherent in syncretism. And while both Catholic and Protestant church bodies have worked to correct the bloody legacy of crusaders and church sponsored persecutions against the Jews, and have affirmed that Jews still remain in covenant with God, Messianic Jews continue to target Jews for evangelization – often in deceptive ways. As a result, their eclectic mix does not fly well in a Church or Synagogue. For these reasons, both Jews and Christians have declared Messianic Jews to be a “fringe religious development” – one that stands outside the boundaries of both the Church and the established Jewish religious movements.
That said, though, perhaps someday Messianic Jews will have the makings of a genuine religious movement – a well articulated philosophy and theology, an accredited seminary, a national network of religious schools, shared educational curricula, a mechanism to provide social services for those who are in need - and the other components those of us affiliated with religious movements work so hard to sustain. But today they are a loosely connected group (or groups – they have numerous “national” bodies) with a unknown number of adherents. From my initial research, I see that their “seminary” amounts to one class taught by an adjunct faculty member at an Evangelical seminary and their “Yeshiva” is a series of audio lectures. Their teachings and practices vary greatly from congregation to congregation, and with a few exceptions (the minister in Plymouth Meeting one of them), they are currently served by leaders who have little or no formal religious training. Some of them call themselves rabbis, other ministers. Perhaps half of their adherents come from Jewish backgrounds.
So what does this all mean for Presbyterians who wish to grow the church and to reach out to new communities?
It is obvious to me as an observer of the Presbyterian Church that the new energy brought into the church by Chinese, Korean, and Pakistani Presbyterians has given many communities new hope. But when one funds a new religious category in the name of attracting new members, such as Messianic Judaism, one has generated the opposite effect. Instead of evangelizing in a way that welcomes people into the Church community, the Church has funded a separate entity – one that borrows from both Christianity and Judaism - and only further distances both Christians and Jews from their spiritual homes. It is clear to me that the Messianics do not want their followers to become Presbyterians nor do they personally want to follow Presbyterian practices. But apparently they have no problem spending money collected from the members of the Presbyterian Church USA to fund a congregation that not only hides the cross and baptismal font, but advertises to Jews in a manner that has been described as deceptive. The minister of this Messianic Jewish congregation took a great leap of faith to leave Judaism and to join the Presbyterian Church and become an ordained minister. I imagine that when he was ordained he vowed to uphold the theology and practice of the Presbyterian Church - isn’t it ironic that he does not urge his followers to do the same?
It is no surprise to me that my fellow Jews view the new church Avodat Yisrael as a cheap advertising gimmick. It is as if mainstream Jews funded a savvy Conservative rabbi to sing Amazing Grace, recite the Lord’s Prayer and read selected New Testament verses in an attempt to lure inter-faith couples.
So how should the Presbyterys respond to inter-marriage and outreach to inter-married families? There are other, more dignified paths. Many churches already have adjusted to new American religious trends and now offer classes for young families entitled "When mommy is Jewish" or "When daddy is Jewish" to help inter-faith families face their issues in an open, non-judgmental environment. Others offer classes particularly on Hebrew Scripture or create a book group that includes a book of Jewish interest. Some have invited in rabbis to teach. Probably the most interesting development in this arena is the award winning local television program in Larchmont, New York that features a Presbyterian minister and a rabbi discussing theological issues over breakfast at a diner. These activities send the message to Jews that they will be welcomed without judgment and spoken of with respect within the Church. When that happens, inter-married families will not only join churches but become amazing assets for furthering the Church’s goals. I’m sure that many of you have seen this with your own eyes.
Decades of work have gone into building a strong relationship between Presbyterians and Jews. In the wake of the holocaust, theological dialogue led to new understandings of an ancient connection. Both Jews and Presbyterians are challenged by America’s new religious realities. It is my hope that Presbyterians across the country will continue to affirm the spiritual journey that Jews and Christians walk together in light of God’s teachings and that further efforts to outreach to inter-married families can be done with true sensitivity and compassion. I hope that in the upcoming assembly that the Presbyterian Church USA’s membership will raise their voices, put an end to further allocations to Messianic Jewish groups and reaffirm the Church’s historic principles regarding Jewish-Christian relations.
By Rabbi Daniel Brenner
As a rabbi who works each day with Presbyterian ministers and lay people at a historic Presbyterian seminary, I have to admit that I was deeply concerned when I received word that a “Messianic Jewish Community” opened in a Philadelphia suburb with over $300,000 of Presbyterian Church USA money. The new church (which does not call itself a church) is named Avodat Yisrael, which literally means “sacrifice of Israel”, and it opened in Plymouth Meeting, Pennsylvania. Since its first service, on Rosh Hashanah, I’ve heard that few people have actually joined the congregation but that many questions have been raised. Some have asked - What is so offensive to the Jewish community about Messianic Jews? Others want to know –Is there any way that Presbyterian churches can reach out to Jews without causing a media frenzy?
These are challenging times for those of us who are committed not just to individual clergy or houses of worship, but to national religious organizations. More people are choosing their religious identity the way they choose items at a salad bar, a story told best in books like Generation of Seekers and Spiritual Marketplace by Wade Clark Roof. As a result, there is theological fluidity, borrowing of ritual, and a general freedom to create religious life that is unprecedented.
These forces are not necessarily detrimental to traditional religious communities. As a rabbi, I have viewed genuine Christian interest in Jewish ritual and practice as an overwhelmingly positive development, one that is by no means a new phenomenon. The many Christian communities who hold Passover Seders are just one example of this flowering of Jewish ritual in the church. Rabbis across the country who serve on local clergy councils have truly enjoyed teaching for Christian groups and have seen first hand the sincere desire for spiritual dialogue that exists between Christians and Jews. It is of no surprise to me that some Christians are even interested in learning Hebrew, studying kabbalah, and reading Chassidic tales. I know that many Christians have discovered the Judaica section of their local Barnes & Noble or independent bookstore and have begun to read about Jewish history and religious life. The vast majority of Presbyterians and others who seek out Jewish practices and Jewish insights, or even read a Bruce Feiler book on the Bible, do so in a desire to deepen their relationship to Christ and do so with a genuine respect for Judaism.
It is also true that in a society that is increasingly open, people choose to convert to a religion that they did not grow up with. The latest National Jewish Population study found that many Christians have found homes in the Jewish community and that many Jews have chosen to join Christian communities. In working with Presbyterians, I have heard stories of the Jewish men and women who have become active in churches across the country. Many of these folks are Jews who have married committed Protestants, but some fall into the category of intellectual or spiritual seekers. In their new homes they have found the religious community that they were seeking. Lauren Winner’s recent book Girl Gets God tells her story of a Jewish seeker finding Christ, and in my work I have met not only Christian lay leaders, but Christian ministers who grew up in Jewish homes. Their spiritual journeys led not simply to an embrace of Christ’s teachings, but to a decision to become part of the Church, to enter the covenant of the church community, and to carry on the church’s historical legacy. These folks do not call themselves Messianic Jews. Rather, they are proud to be Christians, and carry in their hearts the Church’s struggles between tradition and innovation.
Messianic Jews are a different type of spiritual seeker. In contrast to Jews who become Christians, most Messianic Jews do not want to be called Christians (hence the title “Messianic Jews” instead of “Hebrew Christians” – an earlier manifestation of their religious community) or to call their congregations churches. Instead, they emphatically state that they are Jewish – Jews who pray in the name of Jesus. Among Messianics there is some disagreement about what type of Judaism they are. To quote one Messianic Jewish leader, Michael Wolf, his mission is to “Commit to, and grow in a lifestyle of faith called Biblical Judaism.” A leader of another wing of Messianic Jews, Stuart Dauerman, claims that “Messianic Judaism is a Judaism, and not a cosmetically altered "Jewish-style" version of what is extant in the wider Christian community.” Many Messianic Jews view Christianity from the third century onward to be an aberration of Christ’s teachings and they argue that to join a Christian church would be to “assimilate” into a European Christianity that is antithetical to Jews. The Union of Messianic Judaism’s recent paper Defining Messianic Judaism calls Presbyterians and others “the Gentile Church”. In some communities there has even been heated discussion about whether Christians who join Messianic Synagogues must convert to Judaism to be full members or to participate in all activities in the congregation – for example, the Union has stated that “Gentiles are certainly welcome within Messianic Jewish Congregations…but congregations remain Jewish, not expressions of ‘one new man’ that is neither Jew nor Greek. Much of their life is based, not strictly on Scripture or on universal precepts for all believers, but on Jewish teaching and tradition. Gentiles moved by Ahavat Yisrael will participate in the Messianic Jewish congregation on these terms.”
Messianic Jews are creating an interesting hybrid religious identity – one that satisfies their personal desires to carry on talmudic based religious rituals and one that gives them a Hebraic path to accepting Yeshua, Jesus. They have taken two traditions that were often at odds with one another (with Jews often the persecuted party) and have inherited the theological, ritual and historical confusion inherent in syncretism. And while both Catholic and Protestant church bodies have worked to correct the bloody legacy of crusaders and church sponsored persecutions against the Jews, and have affirmed that Jews still remain in covenant with God, Messianic Jews continue to target Jews for evangelization – often in deceptive ways. As a result, their eclectic mix does not fly well in a Church or Synagogue. For these reasons, both Jews and Christians have declared Messianic Jews to be a “fringe religious development” – one that stands outside the boundaries of both the Church and the established Jewish religious movements.
That said, though, perhaps someday Messianic Jews will have the makings of a genuine religious movement – a well articulated philosophy and theology, an accredited seminary, a national network of religious schools, shared educational curricula, a mechanism to provide social services for those who are in need - and the other components those of us affiliated with religious movements work so hard to sustain. But today they are a loosely connected group (or groups – they have numerous “national” bodies) with a unknown number of adherents. From my initial research, I see that their “seminary” amounts to one class taught by an adjunct faculty member at an Evangelical seminary and their “Yeshiva” is a series of audio lectures. Their teachings and practices vary greatly from congregation to congregation, and with a few exceptions (the minister in Plymouth Meeting one of them), they are currently served by leaders who have little or no formal religious training. Some of them call themselves rabbis, other ministers. Perhaps half of their adherents come from Jewish backgrounds.
So what does this all mean for Presbyterians who wish to grow the church and to reach out to new communities?
It is obvious to me as an observer of the Presbyterian Church that the new energy brought into the church by Chinese, Korean, and Pakistani Presbyterians has given many communities new hope. But when one funds a new religious category in the name of attracting new members, such as Messianic Judaism, one has generated the opposite effect. Instead of evangelizing in a way that welcomes people into the Church community, the Church has funded a separate entity – one that borrows from both Christianity and Judaism - and only further distances both Christians and Jews from their spiritual homes. It is clear to me that the Messianics do not want their followers to become Presbyterians nor do they personally want to follow Presbyterian practices. But apparently they have no problem spending money collected from the members of the Presbyterian Church USA to fund a congregation that not only hides the cross and baptismal font, but advertises to Jews in a manner that has been described as deceptive. The minister of this Messianic Jewish congregation took a great leap of faith to leave Judaism and to join the Presbyterian Church and become an ordained minister. I imagine that when he was ordained he vowed to uphold the theology and practice of the Presbyterian Church - isn’t it ironic that he does not urge his followers to do the same?
It is no surprise to me that my fellow Jews view the new church Avodat Yisrael as a cheap advertising gimmick. It is as if mainstream Jews funded a savvy Conservative rabbi to sing Amazing Grace, recite the Lord’s Prayer and read selected New Testament verses in an attempt to lure inter-faith couples.
So how should the Presbyterys respond to inter-marriage and outreach to inter-married families? There are other, more dignified paths. Many churches already have adjusted to new American religious trends and now offer classes for young families entitled "When mommy is Jewish" or "When daddy is Jewish" to help inter-faith families face their issues in an open, non-judgmental environment. Others offer classes particularly on Hebrew Scripture or create a book group that includes a book of Jewish interest. Some have invited in rabbis to teach. Probably the most interesting development in this arena is the award winning local television program in Larchmont, New York that features a Presbyterian minister and a rabbi discussing theological issues over breakfast at a diner. These activities send the message to Jews that they will be welcomed without judgment and spoken of with respect within the Church. When that happens, inter-married families will not only join churches but become amazing assets for furthering the Church’s goals. I’m sure that many of you have seen this with your own eyes.
Decades of work have gone into building a strong relationship between Presbyterians and Jews. In the wake of the holocaust, theological dialogue led to new understandings of an ancient connection. Both Jews and Presbyterians are challenged by America’s new religious realities. It is my hope that Presbyterians across the country will continue to affirm the spiritual journey that Jews and Christians walk together in light of God’s teachings and that further efforts to outreach to inter-married families can be done with true sensitivity and compassion. I hope that in the upcoming assembly that the Presbyterian Church USA’s membership will raise their voices, put an end to further allocations to Messianic Jewish groups and reaffirm the Church’s historic principles regarding Jewish-Christian relations.
11.8.04
Praying With Lior
A few months ago, I met with Ilana Trachtman, director of Praying with Lior which is in the final stage of development. I saw a rough cut of the film, which is about the remarkable prayer skills of Lior Leibling, a young man with Down's Syndrome who just had his bar mitzvah. Ilana is doing a phenomenal job with a difficult subject.
9.8.04
16.7.04
Remarks at Rensellearville Church
Spiritual Activism: From Moses to Bob Marley’s Redemption Song
Rabbi Daniel Brenner
I begin with a story:
The Parable of the Two Scrolls:
A traveler walks down a path holding a scroll of paper in each hand. Every few minutes, the traveler stops along the way and unrolls one of the scrolls.
“The whole world was created for me.” reads the first scroll.
After reading this message, the traveler walks with pride, taking long strides on the journey, enjoying each step, paying little attention to the world as it passes by.
After a while the traveler stops and unrolls the scroll in the other hand
“I am from dust and will return to dust!” it reads.
Suddenly the traveler begins to shuffle along the road in a state of despair, head hanging to the ground, despondent until the next time that the scroll in the other hand is read.
This Chassidic tale is often recalled during the month of reflection that precedes the Jewish High Holidays. Life, we are told by this teaching, is a delicate balancing act between two truths. Hope and despair are those two truths and they are always present.
Today, many political theorists are talking about two truths as well. Two Harvard professors are at the center of this debate. One, Francis Fukuyama, has argued that globalization and the rise of the digital market will eventually create a peaceful world with one language and one culture. The other, Samuel Huntington, has argued that a violent clash of civilizations is upon us - most notably between Islam and the West. In short, these visions predict either a world that is populated by those who wish to forget the past in the name of peace or by those who wish to fight to recreate the glory of the past.
Are either of these predictions proving to be accurate?
While it may seem that the clash is upon us, I want to suggest that in some ways both men are right. We are moving towards a global village and we are more interconnected than we have ever been. Education of millions is now happening via online resources. More young girls are learning than ever before. These could be hopeful signs. Yet, we also live with the images of 9/11 and images of the numerous attacks against Americans and other Westerners who are aid workers, journalists, or simply in the wrong place at the wrong time.
Who perpetrates these attacks?
In most cases, they are carried out not by those who are directly oppressed under the economic conditions dictated by the West on Arab nations – but those Arab students who can afford to come to the West to seek education and fortune. Sadly, many of them end up feeling more and more alienated from both their ancestral land and the modern world.
The root of the attacks is not Islam or the Quran – but the conflicted soul that rages towards the West (a rage that has been building since the colonial era) and desires the West (for individual autonomy, technology, and political freedom)
That conflict, in a digital world, becomes the impetus for a media spectacle of violence.
So how do we address this conflicted soul? How do we address the alienation that is at the heart of the transition from the local to global village?
We do not have to go to the apartment blocks of Paris, Manchester or Hamburg to see Muslims making the difficult transition from local to global village. They are also here in our midst. And when I have spoken with them, I understand how vulnerable they feel.
Since 1965, America has undergone a radical change in religious diversity that Professor Diane Eck has titled the “New Religious America.” It is an America that includes Sikhs, Hindus, Muslims, Buddhists, and more. It is an America that is a microcosm of the world’s religions – and a place in which new forms of those religions are blossoming.
And while America may have not received as much public attention as France has with ‘headscarf crimes’, America is facing a similar challenge of diversity. So we must ask a historical question:
How did America respond to the first wave of immigration that brought religious diversity to these shores– the wave between 1880- and 1920?
While it took nearly three decades for Jews and Catholics to feel accepted in America, we have countless of righteous Protestants to thank for making this nation a welcoming one for religious difference. In 1927, when the National Conference of Christians and Jews began with one Protestant, one Catholic, and one Jewish leader, it sent a message that this nation was one which not only tolerated, but found strength in diversity. John F. Kennedy’s presidency was historic, as was Joseph Leiberman’s candidacy. And these events could not have happened without thousands of local events like this one here today.
For Jews, finding acceptance in America was not only vital in the 1920s, but was especially salient after the horrors visited on our people in Europe during World War II. Jews not only came to see America as a refuge, but to call it home. I grew up with the U.S. Army issue Passover Haggadah that my father used as a G.I.
The same efforts that Protestants pushed forward in solidifying this nation as a Judeo-Christian one must now be advanced to widen the tent. And while I hope that both polytheists (like Hindus) and non-theists (like Buddhists) will be included around the table, it is our fellow monotheists, Muslims, that we must reach out to at this hour.
But bringing them to the table is only the first step. The real question regarding diversity is not simply who we can gather around the table, but what can we accomplish together. Jews, Protestants and Catholics came together and played a major role in healing the nation’s racism and establishing civil rights. Today there is a new set of issues to tackle. So where should we begin? We might draw on some spiritual resources.
In the Book of Exodus, the young Moses “Goes out to see his brethren” – The Midrash, the collection of rabbinic commentaries on the Torah, asks “what did he see?”
He saw the burdens of the young on the backs of the old and the burdens of the old on the backs of the young. He saw the burdens of women on men and men on women.
So how did he respond?
Moses began to shift the burdens, running back and forth. He hoped that Pharoah would be pleased, seeing how much more efficient the work had become. But Pharoah forbid him from interfering. It was then that Moses knew that he would have to stand up to Pharoah.
Today we live in a nation in which our collective burdens are being carried by those whose voices of anguish go unheard. Rather than create a society in which there is a chicken in every pot, we have created a gap between rich and poor that has grown larger each year. Fewer people have health insurance – and even those who have it cannot afford decent health care. And there are thousands of workers in this country – men who work the fields among the pesticides, women who are held in captivity and exploited sexually– who are carrying unjust burdens. It is appalling to me that a Wal-mart janitorial employee from Poland was forced to work 364 days a year, twelve hour shifts and denied medical care when she had a work related accident.
Of course we will not change our society overnight, but the one thing that we can change is our minds.
Bob Marley sang:
Emancipate yourselves from inner slavery/ none but ourselves can free our minds/have no fear for atomic energy / none of them can stop the time/ how long will we kill our prophets/ while they stand aside a look/ we’ve got to take part in it/ got to fulfill the book/ redemption song/this song of freedom/ all I ever had
We can change our minds – and through the electoral process we have the ability to change the policies that impact our nation’s most vulnerable. It is said that the worst part of Egyptian slavery was that the Hebrews had given up hope that they would ever be anything other than slaves. But we should not lose hope that it is possible to create a compassionate and caring society. We can shift the energy we have used to become the world’s military superpower to address the AIDS crisis, environmental crisis, and the desperate need for education.
We carry two scrolls with us. One scroll that gives us hope and one that instills despair.
Today, let us look at the new religious diversity in America as a sign of hope. It will take much work, but we can utilize this diversity to touch the lives of people in every nation. Let us dedicate ourselves to building a wide tent, in which all can rest safely and find nourishment. And let that tent be an inspiration for all our fellow travelers on planet earth.
Rabbi Daniel Brenner
I begin with a story:
The Parable of the Two Scrolls:
A traveler walks down a path holding a scroll of paper in each hand. Every few minutes, the traveler stops along the way and unrolls one of the scrolls.
“The whole world was created for me.” reads the first scroll.
After reading this message, the traveler walks with pride, taking long strides on the journey, enjoying each step, paying little attention to the world as it passes by.
After a while the traveler stops and unrolls the scroll in the other hand
“I am from dust and will return to dust!” it reads.
Suddenly the traveler begins to shuffle along the road in a state of despair, head hanging to the ground, despondent until the next time that the scroll in the other hand is read.
This Chassidic tale is often recalled during the month of reflection that precedes the Jewish High Holidays. Life, we are told by this teaching, is a delicate balancing act between two truths. Hope and despair are those two truths and they are always present.
Today, many political theorists are talking about two truths as well. Two Harvard professors are at the center of this debate. One, Francis Fukuyama, has argued that globalization and the rise of the digital market will eventually create a peaceful world with one language and one culture. The other, Samuel Huntington, has argued that a violent clash of civilizations is upon us - most notably between Islam and the West. In short, these visions predict either a world that is populated by those who wish to forget the past in the name of peace or by those who wish to fight to recreate the glory of the past.
Are either of these predictions proving to be accurate?
While it may seem that the clash is upon us, I want to suggest that in some ways both men are right. We are moving towards a global village and we are more interconnected than we have ever been. Education of millions is now happening via online resources. More young girls are learning than ever before. These could be hopeful signs. Yet, we also live with the images of 9/11 and images of the numerous attacks against Americans and other Westerners who are aid workers, journalists, or simply in the wrong place at the wrong time.
Who perpetrates these attacks?
In most cases, they are carried out not by those who are directly oppressed under the economic conditions dictated by the West on Arab nations – but those Arab students who can afford to come to the West to seek education and fortune. Sadly, many of them end up feeling more and more alienated from both their ancestral land and the modern world.
The root of the attacks is not Islam or the Quran – but the conflicted soul that rages towards the West (a rage that has been building since the colonial era) and desires the West (for individual autonomy, technology, and political freedom)
That conflict, in a digital world, becomes the impetus for a media spectacle of violence.
So how do we address this conflicted soul? How do we address the alienation that is at the heart of the transition from the local to global village?
We do not have to go to the apartment blocks of Paris, Manchester or Hamburg to see Muslims making the difficult transition from local to global village. They are also here in our midst. And when I have spoken with them, I understand how vulnerable they feel.
Since 1965, America has undergone a radical change in religious diversity that Professor Diane Eck has titled the “New Religious America.” It is an America that includes Sikhs, Hindus, Muslims, Buddhists, and more. It is an America that is a microcosm of the world’s religions – and a place in which new forms of those religions are blossoming.
And while America may have not received as much public attention as France has with ‘headscarf crimes’, America is facing a similar challenge of diversity. So we must ask a historical question:
How did America respond to the first wave of immigration that brought religious diversity to these shores– the wave between 1880- and 1920?
While it took nearly three decades for Jews and Catholics to feel accepted in America, we have countless of righteous Protestants to thank for making this nation a welcoming one for religious difference. In 1927, when the National Conference of Christians and Jews began with one Protestant, one Catholic, and one Jewish leader, it sent a message that this nation was one which not only tolerated, but found strength in diversity. John F. Kennedy’s presidency was historic, as was Joseph Leiberman’s candidacy. And these events could not have happened without thousands of local events like this one here today.
For Jews, finding acceptance in America was not only vital in the 1920s, but was especially salient after the horrors visited on our people in Europe during World War II. Jews not only came to see America as a refuge, but to call it home. I grew up with the U.S. Army issue Passover Haggadah that my father used as a G.I.
The same efforts that Protestants pushed forward in solidifying this nation as a Judeo-Christian one must now be advanced to widen the tent. And while I hope that both polytheists (like Hindus) and non-theists (like Buddhists) will be included around the table, it is our fellow monotheists, Muslims, that we must reach out to at this hour.
But bringing them to the table is only the first step. The real question regarding diversity is not simply who we can gather around the table, but what can we accomplish together. Jews, Protestants and Catholics came together and played a major role in healing the nation’s racism and establishing civil rights. Today there is a new set of issues to tackle. So where should we begin? We might draw on some spiritual resources.
In the Book of Exodus, the young Moses “Goes out to see his brethren” – The Midrash, the collection of rabbinic commentaries on the Torah, asks “what did he see?”
He saw the burdens of the young on the backs of the old and the burdens of the old on the backs of the young. He saw the burdens of women on men and men on women.
So how did he respond?
Moses began to shift the burdens, running back and forth. He hoped that Pharoah would be pleased, seeing how much more efficient the work had become. But Pharoah forbid him from interfering. It was then that Moses knew that he would have to stand up to Pharoah.
Today we live in a nation in which our collective burdens are being carried by those whose voices of anguish go unheard. Rather than create a society in which there is a chicken in every pot, we have created a gap between rich and poor that has grown larger each year. Fewer people have health insurance – and even those who have it cannot afford decent health care. And there are thousands of workers in this country – men who work the fields among the pesticides, women who are held in captivity and exploited sexually– who are carrying unjust burdens. It is appalling to me that a Wal-mart janitorial employee from Poland was forced to work 364 days a year, twelve hour shifts and denied medical care when she had a work related accident.
Of course we will not change our society overnight, but the one thing that we can change is our minds.
Bob Marley sang:
Emancipate yourselves from inner slavery/ none but ourselves can free our minds/have no fear for atomic energy / none of them can stop the time/ how long will we kill our prophets/ while they stand aside a look/ we’ve got to take part in it/ got to fulfill the book/ redemption song/this song of freedom/ all I ever had
We can change our minds – and through the electoral process we have the ability to change the policies that impact our nation’s most vulnerable. It is said that the worst part of Egyptian slavery was that the Hebrews had given up hope that they would ever be anything other than slaves. But we should not lose hope that it is possible to create a compassionate and caring society. We can shift the energy we have used to become the world’s military superpower to address the AIDS crisis, environmental crisis, and the desperate need for education.
We carry two scrolls with us. One scroll that gives us hope and one that instills despair.
Today, let us look at the new religious diversity in America as a sign of hope. It will take much work, but we can utilize this diversity to touch the lives of people in every nation. Let us dedicate ourselves to building a wide tent, in which all can rest safely and find nourishment. And let that tent be an inspiration for all our fellow travelers on planet earth.
12.5.04
My Invocation at the George Rupp lecture
I was asked to deliver the invocation at a time when the world was reeling from the revelations from Abu Gharib. Here's what I came up with:
INVOCATION
Rudin Lecture, May 11, 2004
Eternal One, may it be your will that our coming together here, tonight, for a short time, will inspire and renew us.
Though we come together from diverse religious traditions, with particular theologies and practices that guide us, may we invoke your name tonight together as a sign of shared gratitude for the ability to join together in this space. May we use the freedom and wealth that we are blessed with to make the lives of others more joyful and bearable.
Blessed Holy One, this week our hearts have been heavy. At this time of war and images of brutality, may we be given the courage and strength to put aside the inner cynic, the nasty, brutish and short voice that leads us to look at an atrocity and say “well, this kind of thing always happens.” Give us the strength to say “It does not have to be this way.” Give us the wisdom to learn from this as a nation– and to move forward as a world power with both humility and responsibility. In the face of increased hostility towards us, even in the face of acts of vengeance aimed to rattle us, help us to rise to our highest ideals, and to respond to chaos with calm and clarity.
Source of Life, as you heard the cries of the stranger’s child, of the enslaved Hebrews in Egypt, of the repentant King David in his chambers may we hear the voices that call out at this hour. May we hear, and respond with our own outsretched hands.
INVOCATION
Rudin Lecture, May 11, 2004
Eternal One, may it be your will that our coming together here, tonight, for a short time, will inspire and renew us.
Though we come together from diverse religious traditions, with particular theologies and practices that guide us, may we invoke your name tonight together as a sign of shared gratitude for the ability to join together in this space. May we use the freedom and wealth that we are blessed with to make the lives of others more joyful and bearable.
Blessed Holy One, this week our hearts have been heavy. At this time of war and images of brutality, may we be given the courage and strength to put aside the inner cynic, the nasty, brutish and short voice that leads us to look at an atrocity and say “well, this kind of thing always happens.” Give us the strength to say “It does not have to be this way.” Give us the wisdom to learn from this as a nation– and to move forward as a world power with both humility and responsibility. In the face of increased hostility towards us, even in the face of acts of vengeance aimed to rattle us, help us to rise to our highest ideals, and to respond to chaos with calm and clarity.
Source of Life, as you heard the cries of the stranger’s child, of the enslaved Hebrews in Egypt, of the repentant King David in his chambers may we hear the voices that call out at this hour. May we hear, and respond with our own outsretched hands.
The Big House
This past Monday I taught in Sing Sing to a group of inmates in the Masters of Theology program. 10 Christians, 4 Muslims, most of them lifers. It was intense being in the complex -- located on a magnificent site overlooking the Hudson -- and the students were clearly engaged. One of the best questions was "Have they come out with a new edition of the Encyclopedia Judaica? Our edition in the prison library in 1972, and I was wondering if there have been any discoveries of new aggadic materials!"
5.5.04
Sacred Space
Yesterday we had our Sacred Space conference. University of Chicago's Jonathan Z. Smith was the highlight - an eccentric Durkheimian. We also visited the Manhattan Mormon Temple. Here are some photos. . One of the protestant ministers on the tour said "Gosh, it looks like a funeral home."
30.4.04
Embracing Beliefnet
My book has recently been excerpted on beliefnet, which allows folks to write in their commentary. So far there are a few stories from folks who have dealt with loss.
26.4.04
A classic cartoon from my rabbinical school days
I came acroos this masterpiece, a cartoon from the good old days when I taught Hebrew School. I sort of miss it. sort of.
22.4.04
Blackboards in Abu Gosh
Yesterday we had an event at Auburn with Ron Kronish a rabbi in Jerusalem that does Inter-religious dialogue. He came with a Palestinian educator, Issa Jabar, who was equally eloquent. At one point during the event, a reporter from a rather anti-Israel magazine felt that it was an opportunity to challenge the charge that Palestinians are being taught to hate Israelis in schools. "Is it true," she asked Jabar, "that Palestinain teachers are teaching hate?" Jabar's response: "Yes - but during Oslo we worked on a new curriculum and we are still hoping to implement it!" May it be speedily and in our days.
16.4.04
Pharoah on Audio
The session I did with Rabbi Art Waskow in D.C. "Speaking Truth to Pharoah" is now available on tape. If you are interested, you can order the tape.for 10 bucks plus 7 shipping.
15.4.04
God Bless Omaha
The Harvard School of Divinity Pluralism Project listed one of the op-eds I wrote after 9/11 in its interfaith section. My op-ed was quoted by the editors at the Omaha newspaper. Who knew that folks in Nebraska read the Forverts?
Shibley Telhami and the Two State Solution
I heard Shibley Telhami speak today on the two state solution. He was level-headed and brilliant - I just wished that someone in power would stop and listen. His latest piece is in Foreign Affairs.
14.4.04
Religious Leaders to team up with Ice Cream Makers
I heard a presentation from the folks from True Majority an outfit spawned by Ben of Ben and Jerry's. The host was Rabbi Balfour Brickner and his clergy group. One of their missions is to work on ecomomic justice issues -- to help people see the bigger issues - both nationally and globally. The short videos on their site are worth watching.
1.4.04
Another review for Embracing Life
Here's another review of my book. This review is the first I've seen from a caregiver's perspective.
31.3.04
Yoruba
Davenning at Borough Park’s Yoruba Shtiebel
By Rabbi Daniel S. Brenner
This past Sunday morning I trekked through the foot of snow that recently visited the Big Apple to take an honorary seat on the bimah of the Christ Apostolic Church. This is one of Borough Park’s wonders - Housed in what once was a German Evangelical chapel is a church of Nigerian immigrants, whose service is mostly in the Yoruba dialect and whose band has no fewer than five onigangans – sacred drummers singing praises to the Lord on congas, djembes, and talking drums. From the moment that the band began to play every leg, arm, and head in the place began to move – men in finely tailored suits and women in magnificent hats and African dress swaying in their separate sections. This kept on for a full two hours, only briefly interrupted by a few short prayers and speeches. The energy in the room was electric – this was a house of God caught up in the throes of spiritual ecstasy.
Whenever I am called on to be a guest rabbi in a church I tell myself the following things- Smile, you represent the Jewish people. Stand up and sit down with the congregation. Don’t cross your legs or look at your watch. Pay attention to the speaker even if no one else is. Close your eyes when they have their heads down in prayer. Don’t try to sing something you don’t know. Nod politely with your mouth closed when they say ‘Amen’ to a prayer in Jesus’ name.
I tried my best to follow these rules, but let me say this – you try to go to Christ Apostolic and sit still – try not to dance when that choir begins to shout, try not to shout “Hallelujah!” when that bass line kicks in and the entire congregation is shaking like it was James Brown at the Apollo. You might be able to hold back for a few minutes, but after that, the ruach hakodesh is going to move you.
But I was moved by much more than the spiritual energy I felt that morning in Brooklyn. Chirst Apostolic is led by a charismatic 70 year old minister, Dr. Abraham Oyedeji, a man who received death threats for his stand against the military government that ruled Lagos up until 1998. His bravery in exposing human rights violations before the United Nations, along with the bravery of many others, has led to a time of great promise in Nigeria.
With all the talk these days about democracy or the lack of it in Iraq, we might look towards Nigeria to see if religious freedom and democracy are viable in a nation that is increasingly under the sway of Islamic law. The North is Muslim and the South is Christian and in the last four years, nearly 10,000 Nigerians have been murdered in various feuds between Christians and Muslims. In response, President Obasanjo has pushed forward a vision of the nation that is “multi-religious” – he has even insisted on a secular constitution. As a result of his recent re-election, there is relative calm now of these religious tensions – but they can boil over at any moment and they must be addressed at all times.
One of the factors that helps this “multi-religious” vision move forward is the strong voice of Nigerian immigrants in America who are well connected to the current government. In a private meeting after the service, the Reverend Oyedeji articulated a vision of Nigerian life that spoke to his own vision of religious tolerance:
“My uncle was a practitioner of African traditional religion but he was a righteous man – the most generous and loving man I have ever met. Could I tell him that he must become a Christian? And my older brother, he was the chief Imam of Nigeria. Could I tell my older brother what to believe? That is not done in an African family. So God will judge who has a place in heaven – not me.”
He then turned to me, and said “and this goes for my Jewish brothers and sisters as well.” At a time of global religious tension, it is reassuring to hear a personal vision of religious diversity.
So what I came away with from the Church was much more than a song in my head and a few dance steps, but a sense that we Jews are not as alone as we think. Among the new Americans, those who came after the 1965 immigration act, there are others who hold onto their traditions in the diaspora and hold concern in their hearts for their homelands. There are also others who wish that the freedom of religious expression possible in America could be true in their homelands. More importantly, there are others who experience themselves as a religious minority, who live in regions where they are seeing a wing of Islam attempting to dominate the political and legal sphere.
After the Sunday service, one of the younger ministers who saw my enthusiastic response to their worship came up to me and said “This was different from what you are used to, I am sure!” –I smiled. “Yes,” I wanted to say, “the whole Jesus thing is noticeably absent in my shul!” But I also wanted to say “No. It is no different - I, too, sing ancient words to the Holy One, grateful for the blessing of religious freedom, feeling the wondrous irony of being blessed in exile.”
Rabbi Daniel S. Brenner is the director of the Center for Multifaith Education at Auburn Theological Seminary in New York City.
By Rabbi Daniel S. Brenner
This past Sunday morning I trekked through the foot of snow that recently visited the Big Apple to take an honorary seat on the bimah of the Christ Apostolic Church. This is one of Borough Park’s wonders - Housed in what once was a German Evangelical chapel is a church of Nigerian immigrants, whose service is mostly in the Yoruba dialect and whose band has no fewer than five onigangans – sacred drummers singing praises to the Lord on congas, djembes, and talking drums. From the moment that the band began to play every leg, arm, and head in the place began to move – men in finely tailored suits and women in magnificent hats and African dress swaying in their separate sections. This kept on for a full two hours, only briefly interrupted by a few short prayers and speeches. The energy in the room was electric – this was a house of God caught up in the throes of spiritual ecstasy.
Whenever I am called on to be a guest rabbi in a church I tell myself the following things- Smile, you represent the Jewish people. Stand up and sit down with the congregation. Don’t cross your legs or look at your watch. Pay attention to the speaker even if no one else is. Close your eyes when they have their heads down in prayer. Don’t try to sing something you don’t know. Nod politely with your mouth closed when they say ‘Amen’ to a prayer in Jesus’ name.
I tried my best to follow these rules, but let me say this – you try to go to Christ Apostolic and sit still – try not to dance when that choir begins to shout, try not to shout “Hallelujah!” when that bass line kicks in and the entire congregation is shaking like it was James Brown at the Apollo. You might be able to hold back for a few minutes, but after that, the ruach hakodesh is going to move you.
But I was moved by much more than the spiritual energy I felt that morning in Brooklyn. Chirst Apostolic is led by a charismatic 70 year old minister, Dr. Abraham Oyedeji, a man who received death threats for his stand against the military government that ruled Lagos up until 1998. His bravery in exposing human rights violations before the United Nations, along with the bravery of many others, has led to a time of great promise in Nigeria.
With all the talk these days about democracy or the lack of it in Iraq, we might look towards Nigeria to see if religious freedom and democracy are viable in a nation that is increasingly under the sway of Islamic law. The North is Muslim and the South is Christian and in the last four years, nearly 10,000 Nigerians have been murdered in various feuds between Christians and Muslims. In response, President Obasanjo has pushed forward a vision of the nation that is “multi-religious” – he has even insisted on a secular constitution. As a result of his recent re-election, there is relative calm now of these religious tensions – but they can boil over at any moment and they must be addressed at all times.
One of the factors that helps this “multi-religious” vision move forward is the strong voice of Nigerian immigrants in America who are well connected to the current government. In a private meeting after the service, the Reverend Oyedeji articulated a vision of Nigerian life that spoke to his own vision of religious tolerance:
“My uncle was a practitioner of African traditional religion but he was a righteous man – the most generous and loving man I have ever met. Could I tell him that he must become a Christian? And my older brother, he was the chief Imam of Nigeria. Could I tell my older brother what to believe? That is not done in an African family. So God will judge who has a place in heaven – not me.”
He then turned to me, and said “and this goes for my Jewish brothers and sisters as well.” At a time of global religious tension, it is reassuring to hear a personal vision of religious diversity.
So what I came away with from the Church was much more than a song in my head and a few dance steps, but a sense that we Jews are not as alone as we think. Among the new Americans, those who came after the 1965 immigration act, there are others who hold onto their traditions in the diaspora and hold concern in their hearts for their homelands. There are also others who wish that the freedom of religious expression possible in America could be true in their homelands. More importantly, there are others who experience themselves as a religious minority, who live in regions where they are seeing a wing of Islam attempting to dominate the political and legal sphere.
After the Sunday service, one of the younger ministers who saw my enthusiastic response to their worship came up to me and said “This was different from what you are used to, I am sure!” –I smiled. “Yes,” I wanted to say, “the whole Jesus thing is noticeably absent in my shul!” But I also wanted to say “No. It is no different - I, too, sing ancient words to the Holy One, grateful for the blessing of religious freedom, feeling the wondrous irony of being blessed in exile.”
Rabbi Daniel S. Brenner is the director of the Center for Multifaith Education at Auburn Theological Seminary in New York City.
30.3.04
One Nation Under God
in Spirituality & Health
The Problem With One Nation Under God
By Rabbi Daniel S. Brenner
As a child sent to a religious day school I could not help but feel that God was watching me from above every time I sat on the toilet. I also sensed that God watched sporting events, occasionally guiding basketballs into hoops from half-court (Dick Vital yelling “Hail Mary!”). In fact, all people were living “under” God – a deity above us peering down like the manager of the A&P from his perch atop the customer service desk. So as eight members of the Supreme Court and the rest of the nation debate the phrase “under God”, I’ve been thinking about the “under” part. Where did we get the idea that God was on top of us? How did we get “under” God in the first place?
I ask this question because as my theology has matured, I have come to learn that God, as conveyed in the Five Books of Moses, is not only up in the sky, but very down-to-earth. God is present in rocky valleys, bushes, even inside of tents. Jacob wakes up from sleeping on a stone pillow and says, “God was in this place and I, and I did not know it!” God in a thorn bush says to Moses “I will be what I will be,” a cloud called “God’s glory” enters the sacred tent before the children of Israel.
So how did God become “on high” – and as a result we become “under” God? The source for the phrase “God on high” is an obscure name for God in the Book of Genesis that is uttered by Melchizedek of Salem, one of the Kings who tries to butter-up Abraham. In doing so, he praises Eyl Elyon, which literally means “God on top” but is translated as “Most High God” or “God on High.” Interestingly, none of the patriarchs or matriarchs ever refers to God with this name. Rather, they have a more expansive knowledge of God, and elsewhere in Genesis, we can hear it echoed in Jacob’s blessing: “by the God of your father, who will help you, by El Shaddai, who will bless you with blessings from the sky above and blessings from the deep, lying below, blessings from the breasts and the womb.”
One of my teachers in seminary, the historian Tikve Frymer-Kensky, spoke of the Biblical God as one that is synthesized from the ancient sky gods and the ancient earth gods (as well as a few other gods with varying genders) into one deity. The innovation was to create one unified name for all of the powers that compelled the natural world. And in the Bible, God speaks from within these forces-- "Out of the heavens God let you hear His voice to guide you,” we read in the fourth chapter of Deuteronomy, “and on earth God let you see His great fire, and you heard His words from the midst of the fire.”
So, from this expansive Biblical vision of God in which God permeates all of reality, in both the elemental and the human realms, how did we get into thinking of ourselves as simply ‘under’ God?
The vast majority of the metaphors used to describe God on high come in later works, most notably the Psalms, which are replete with poetic language that describes God in this way. God is ‘above the heavens,’ is the ‘King of Kings’, is the ‘Judge on high seated on his throne.’ Those metaphors would surely place us under God - but the author of the Psalms also includes conceptions that are more earthbound. God is a rock, God a fortress, God a dwelling place. And there are conceptual names for God – God as truth, salvation, exceeding joy – that have nothing to do with location.
Why does it matter so much for us to dissect the phrase ‘under’ God? In part this matters because we are increasingly becoming a more religiously diverse nation.
At a time when religious totalitarianism is making a comeback around the globe, we should recognize our diversity – the fact that while some Americans do envision that believers are below and God is above, others see God within, God as permeating all things, God as manifest in multiple realities or God as a force that by definition can not be limited to human conceptions. There are even a few folks who proudly call themselves ‘godless.’ In short, if the pledge were an actual reflection of America's theological diversity it would have to have a section with a "fill in the blank."
But there is a more important reason for us to revise the language ‘under’ God. We live in an era where it is not only up to God whether we live or die – but also up to us. As we continue to poison the planet and march faster to ecocide, both God’s immanence in creation and human responsibility should be implicit in our theology.
Yes, God is cosmic. When I look up at the night sky, I see a reflection of God’s glory. But I also see it as I dig in the garden. And that time that I went snorkeling in the Gulf of Aqaba – that was a blessing from the depths. But most importantly, I sense God’s presence as a force that exists between people when they are reflecting the attributes of understanding, kindness, support, mercy, and justice.
So I think that it is time for us to let go of “Under God” and recognize the phrases’ limits. It reverts us back to the ancient sky god and reinforces the notion that God can only be understood as a judge or king who looks down on us. God is much more.
Rabbi Daniel S. Brenner is the Director of the Center for Multifaith Education at Auburn Theological Seminary in New York City.
The Problem With One Nation Under God
By Rabbi Daniel S. Brenner
As a child sent to a religious day school I could not help but feel that God was watching me from above every time I sat on the toilet. I also sensed that God watched sporting events, occasionally guiding basketballs into hoops from half-court (Dick Vital yelling “Hail Mary!”). In fact, all people were living “under” God – a deity above us peering down like the manager of the A&P from his perch atop the customer service desk. So as eight members of the Supreme Court and the rest of the nation debate the phrase “under God”, I’ve been thinking about the “under” part. Where did we get the idea that God was on top of us? How did we get “under” God in the first place?
I ask this question because as my theology has matured, I have come to learn that God, as conveyed in the Five Books of Moses, is not only up in the sky, but very down-to-earth. God is present in rocky valleys, bushes, even inside of tents. Jacob wakes up from sleeping on a stone pillow and says, “God was in this place and I, and I did not know it!” God in a thorn bush says to Moses “I will be what I will be,” a cloud called “God’s glory” enters the sacred tent before the children of Israel.
So how did God become “on high” – and as a result we become “under” God? The source for the phrase “God on high” is an obscure name for God in the Book of Genesis that is uttered by Melchizedek of Salem, one of the Kings who tries to butter-up Abraham. In doing so, he praises Eyl Elyon, which literally means “God on top” but is translated as “Most High God” or “God on High.” Interestingly, none of the patriarchs or matriarchs ever refers to God with this name. Rather, they have a more expansive knowledge of God, and elsewhere in Genesis, we can hear it echoed in Jacob’s blessing: “by the God of your father, who will help you, by El Shaddai, who will bless you with blessings from the sky above and blessings from the deep, lying below, blessings from the breasts and the womb.”
One of my teachers in seminary, the historian Tikve Frymer-Kensky, spoke of the Biblical God as one that is synthesized from the ancient sky gods and the ancient earth gods (as well as a few other gods with varying genders) into one deity. The innovation was to create one unified name for all of the powers that compelled the natural world. And in the Bible, God speaks from within these forces-- "Out of the heavens God let you hear His voice to guide you,” we read in the fourth chapter of Deuteronomy, “and on earth God let you see His great fire, and you heard His words from the midst of the fire.”
So, from this expansive Biblical vision of God in which God permeates all of reality, in both the elemental and the human realms, how did we get into thinking of ourselves as simply ‘under’ God?
The vast majority of the metaphors used to describe God on high come in later works, most notably the Psalms, which are replete with poetic language that describes God in this way. God is ‘above the heavens,’ is the ‘King of Kings’, is the ‘Judge on high seated on his throne.’ Those metaphors would surely place us under God - but the author of the Psalms also includes conceptions that are more earthbound. God is a rock, God a fortress, God a dwelling place. And there are conceptual names for God – God as truth, salvation, exceeding joy – that have nothing to do with location.
Why does it matter so much for us to dissect the phrase ‘under’ God? In part this matters because we are increasingly becoming a more religiously diverse nation.
At a time when religious totalitarianism is making a comeback around the globe, we should recognize our diversity – the fact that while some Americans do envision that believers are below and God is above, others see God within, God as permeating all things, God as manifest in multiple realities or God as a force that by definition can not be limited to human conceptions. There are even a few folks who proudly call themselves ‘godless.’ In short, if the pledge were an actual reflection of America's theological diversity it would have to have a section with a "fill in the blank."
But there is a more important reason for us to revise the language ‘under’ God. We live in an era where it is not only up to God whether we live or die – but also up to us. As we continue to poison the planet and march faster to ecocide, both God’s immanence in creation and human responsibility should be implicit in our theology.
Yes, God is cosmic. When I look up at the night sky, I see a reflection of God’s glory. But I also see it as I dig in the garden. And that time that I went snorkeling in the Gulf of Aqaba – that was a blessing from the depths. But most importantly, I sense God’s presence as a force that exists between people when they are reflecting the attributes of understanding, kindness, support, mercy, and justice.
So I think that it is time for us to let go of “Under God” and recognize the phrases’ limits. It reverts us back to the ancient sky god and reinforces the notion that God can only be understood as a judge or king who looks down on us. God is much more.
Rabbi Daniel S. Brenner is the Director of the Center for Multifaith Education at Auburn Theological Seminary in New York City.
Four Seasons
Rothkos on the wall, Diane Sawyer and Henry Kissinger at the next table over, Senator Corzine shmoozing up on the balcony level - I had the baby spinach, the peppered Tuna and the mocha sundae as I got to know one of our donors. The Four Seasons is one classy joint.
11.3.04
The Belarussians are coming!!!
The State Department called me yesterday to see if I'd speak to a group from Belarus. It is a eclectic mix of officials- a Jew, Christian, and Hare Krishna -- all coming to the U.S. on this junket:
RELIGION IN THE U.S. A Freedom Support Grant Project for Belarus
These visitors are invited to the United States under the auspices of the State Department
International Visitor Program.
March 6 - 28, 2004
Objectives:
The participants will be exposed to the diverse religious, social and cultural life of Americans. The visitors will:
· Explore the meaning and significance of the constitutional provision against governmental establishment of religion (“separation of church and state”)
· Discuss with representatives of the legislative and executive branches of the government issues of religious freedom domestically and internationally
· Learn about the role that non-governmental organizations (NGOs) play in defining and mediating the status of religion in the U.S.
· Examine the role of religious communities in the area of volunteerism
· Meet with representatives of various faith communities to exchange observations on the practice of their faiths in the United States and their relations with other denominations and faiths
· Become acquainted with the role of the U.S. Military Chaplain Corps in promoting religious identity and tolerance
· Examine the relationship between the news media and religious practice in the U. S.
RELIGION IN THE U.S. A Freedom Support Grant Project for Belarus
These visitors are invited to the United States under the auspices of the State Department
International Visitor Program.
March 6 - 28, 2004
Objectives:
The participants will be exposed to the diverse religious, social and cultural life of Americans. The visitors will:
· Explore the meaning and significance of the constitutional provision against governmental establishment of religion (“separation of church and state”)
· Discuss with representatives of the legislative and executive branches of the government issues of religious freedom domestically and internationally
· Learn about the role that non-governmental organizations (NGOs) play in defining and mediating the status of religion in the U.S.
· Examine the role of religious communities in the area of volunteerism
· Meet with representatives of various faith communities to exchange observations on the practice of their faiths in the United States and their relations with other denominations and faiths
· Become acquainted with the role of the U.S. Military Chaplain Corps in promoting religious identity and tolerance
· Examine the relationship between the news media and religious practice in the U. S.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)