WANTED: Rabbi to Make Golem!

I have to hat tip my dear friend Rabbi V (that's a nickname he doesn't like, but I'm okay with that) for posting this up to Facebook. I can't help but giggle uncontrollably about this ad on Craigslist that popped up two days ago.

Looking for Rabbi Versed in DARK TALMUDIC ARTS to create GOLEM. (Astoria, NY)

WANTED:

One Rabbi versed in the Dark Talmudic Arts to create one Golem for household of three. Golem will perform rudimentary household chores such as dishes & sweeping, basic Math Tutoring for our daughter in 3rd grade and basic household security. Golem must be obedient and fairly unobtrusive on our every-day lives.

We will supply all materials needed (clay, twigs, calfskin parchment, etc) needed to create the Golem. All you need to do is use your magical ancient Rabbinic skills to animate said Golem!

Please note! We are looking for a Rabbi to create a Golem: an anthropomorphic being created from intimate matter from Jewish folk-lore, NOT Gollum: a former Hobbit turned into monster and looking for "precious". This is important! We have no interest in living with Gollum. We want a Golem. Please respond, serious inquiry only.

Location: Astoria, NY

it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests

Compensation: no pay

No pay?! What a bum deal. I do like how they iterated the difference between Gollum and Golem. How astute of them!

"So is it Twitting, then?"

"Tell me about Twitter."

When these words came forth from the rabbi's mouth over Shabbat dinner, I was a little, well, shocked. I'm always blown away at how quickly I'm emailed back (considering my rabbi back in Nebraska never emailed me -- I'd have to call to get an answer to my emails days and days later), but I never expected for the rabbi to ask about Twitter. He knows well about Facebook and all those other web 2.0 giants, and I was even more surprised when another one of the Shabbat dinner guests posed the question, "Well, then, what is Tumblr?" (Just so everyone knows, not even I knew what Tumblr was.) I mean, I'm not saying I expect all people around my parents' ages to be completely inept, after all, my mom is on Facebook and MySpace. But I didn't expect the rabbi to ask for an explanation. I found myself stumped, I didn't know how to answer the question, "It's ... microblogging!" I blurted out. Another one of the guests asked in an intense Israeli accent, "What's microblogging?" And I just looked at Tuvia, in a mixture of awe and shock, while the man's wife (the one who asked about Tumblr) explained it to him. The conversation went on for some time, comparing Facebook to Twitter and explaining that it's "Tweeting" and not "Twitting" and that yes, the whole world can read your tweets if you're not set to a private account, but that yes, some people do have private accounts and that, well, yes, maybe that does defeat the purpose ...

And this was only half of the Shabbat dinner conversation.

The other half? Money. I'm always blown away when Shabbat dinners and lunches end up covering every aspect of finance and investment known to man. It seems to me that such conversations would be considered, well, as muktza as handling money on Shabbat (consult your local rabbi!). I'm only half kidding, and I'm sure some rebbe somewhere decided that such conversation was forbidden! So we heathens talked about investing now that stocks with big giants like ING are so low, learning about the market, buying and selling houses, returns on investments, interest rates! You name it. After all, Tuvia is an accountant and when people find out they're in awe, so they seek his depth of wisdom.

But this is only partially accurate. We did take a break -- between Twitter and the drowning market -- to discuss last week's parshah. The rabbi posed a question, Tuvia mentioned that Exodus 32 is my baby, and the rabbi gave his thoughts on the incident and then asked for mine. The rabbi was mostly in line with my thinking, but another fellow at the table took problem with some of my thinking. I mentioned having my two papers accepted to a conference, and at some point the dessert came out and the conversation about Torah and Talmud and all things parshah disappeared with the chomping of the rebbetzin's delicious hamantaschen (brown sugar, nuts AND honey? oh my!).

The other guests left and for the next hour plus Tuvia and I stood around with the rabbi and his wife talking about our plans -- houses, conversions, school, cars, life, our future ... by the time we got back to our host's house, the clock was striking midnight and I, completely alive and invigorated by a truly unique and warm Shabbat dinner, was turning into the obligatory pumpkin. Amid snoring and coughing, I managed to get a bit of sleep before waking up and schlepping off to morning services, where I quickied Shacharit to catch up to the Torah service. It was weird seeing the rabbi and his wife the next day, after such a personal Shabbat evening before at their home. I bid each a hearty "Shabbat Shalom!" and that was that.

I have this problem about being too personal with people sometimes, I think. I worry about comfort levels and how to act with people in different settings -- public versus private. A conversation and relationship in someone's home is not necessarily the same as it is outside that snug and comfy little box with rooms and Judaica and delicious food. You know what I mean?

But in all honesty, it was one of the best Shabbats I've had. Our host family was quite ill, the lot of them, but they were -- as always -- friendlier than anyone I've ever known. The youngest one continued to call Tuvia (whose name is really Evan) "Kevin," which gave me giggles, and cookies were the food of choice for just about all of us. And, of course, Friday night's dinner was definitely memorable and remarkably special, though I can't exactly explain why.

I suppose, in a way, eating dinner by the rabbi sort of sealed some kind of special deal. It was an official in, to the community, that is. Like a knowing glance or a firm handshake. An experience that lets you know that you're safe, you're welcomed, you're liked, and most importantly? You're home.

An Orthodox Jew: Part I or, Meeting the Rabbi

From Twitter several days ago:

Yes, it's official. It's true. On Thursday, February 12, 2009, I will be meeting with an Orthodox rabbi to discuss my pursuit of an Orthodox conversion. I know what you're thinking, "Chavi, you're Jewish! You converted almost three years ago!" And the answer to both is "yes." I'm not out to please anyone or to prove to anyone that I'm this Jewish or that Jewish, and it most certainly isn't about securing the comfortable Jewish lives of my future children. Call me nuts or selfish, but it's about me. A lot of people along my path have suggested that Orthodoxy isn't so much what I am, but rather that I'm drawn -- as a zealous convert -- to the traditions, the heritage, the lifestyle, the people. In a way? Yes, that's all very true, but it's so much more than that.


Hashkafically, this is where I'm heading and where I have been heading for the past year and a half or more. I'm not BECOMING a Jew. I already am a Jew. What this is is acknowledging who I am as a Jew. 

So Thursday, I will be talking a rabbi. Will I have to go through two years of study -- again? Will I have to start wearing skirts every day? Will I be able to carry on as I am on Shabbos? How can I manage an Orthodox conversion living dozens of miles away from the shul? Will someone start putting me up for Shabbos? Will my current non-shomer negiah relationship be questioned? And most importantly, will I ask all the right questions?

The rabbi I'm meeting with is outstanding and I was sent his way by some friends back in Chicago at the Orthodox shul I went to there. The rabbi sounds eager, and I hope my nerves and apprehensions and my concerns about my logistics don't get the best of me.

Anyone have any tips on things to ask? Any encouragement? Advice?

Rabbis Explain Why People Become Orthodox

Note: I had originally posted a blog here, which was crossposted on Jewsbychoice.org. However, in an effort to keep content original on JBC, as well as my personal blog, I encourage you to head over to the JBC blog in order to read the post. I apologize for the confusion this might cause.



Thanks!
Chavi


There has been an interesting series posted on the Hirhurim Musings blog about Why People Become Orthodox, and I thought it would be useful to share here simply because the perspectives of many Conservative rabbis are shared. Essentially a question was posed to a number of rabbis across the spectrum of Judaism, and as far as I can tell it's an ongoing series. To read the blog post, please visit this link.

Oy! A woman rabbi!? You must be meshuggenah!

I'd wanted to find a way to work this into the Jewsbychoice.org blog, but I couldn't think of the right way to do it, and I didn't want to push it. I had wanted to go on the angle that I have a lot of pride for my Jewishness because of its ready acceptance to change and progressiveness (though I'm sure there will be a lot of people would disagree with me and say that I'm absolutely insane, but seriously folks, Judaism was the first organized religion to welcome GLBTs and women into ordination ...).

So with that, I present to you Regina Jonas, an Orthodox Jew growing up in a Berlin slum in the 10s, 20s, 30s and 40s. What makes her special, though? She was THE FIRST WOMAN RABBI ... in the history of time ... as we know it. Now, people will say, what about Sally Preisand? Ordained in the 1970s in the U.S.? Wasn't she the first? Nada, nope, niet. Sally holds the honor of being the first female rabbi ordained in the U.S., but she's often considered the first woman, period. There is another woman -- Regina Jonas -- who seems to have fallen through the cracks of history, after her death in Auschwitz in 1944.

I happ'd upon this while looking for some books on Rashi's daughters on Amazon.com. I noticed a book, "Fraulein Rabbiner Jonas: The Story of the First Woman Rabbi," by Elisa Klapheck. I had never heard of this Jonas woman and started searching the web. I then wondered ... how the heck did I miss this woman? How did I miss a woman being ordained in Germany in the 1930s? How did I miss this!? I'm astounded by this woman, though, because she managed to surpass the acceptance of a woman into ordination in any organized group. It would be another 40 years until another woman was ordained.

Shocked at my own ignorance, I searched out Rabbi Regina Jonas and found out the following: She was Orthodox, and maintained her Orthodox observance, even as she was ordained by a Liberal (what the Orthodox called Reform) rabbi in 1935, several years after she'd gotten her certificate to teach Jewish studies and Hebrew. Her thesis, tellingly, was "Can a Woman Be a Rabbi According to Halachic Sources?" which I hope to be able to find, though I don't know that it's possible.

See, the reason Rabbi Jonas was a ghost for so long was that she died in the Holocaust and those Liberal rabbis and scholars who KNEW her, knew her work in the concentration camps (she gave lectures in the camps, which are still on file there), those who prized her work and friendship ... were mute. Leo Baeck, a very well known Jewish scholar who survived the camps, neglected to ever mention Regina Jonas. Why? WHY? Was it because she was a woman? Or was it because she was part of the past -- that part of life before and during the Holocaust? Either way, I find it inexcusable and frustrating. Her existence was only acknowledged when her certificates of ordination were found in 1991 in an archive in Berlin, put there by another scholar who Jonas had entrusted with the documents.

It was not until 1995 that another woman was ordained in Germany.

Jonas is an inspiration, not only because she was the first female rabbi, but because she was absolutely determined. Her father passed away when she was very young, and her mother and her moved near an Orthodox shul, where the rabbi took her under his wing, teaching her all she needed to know. Her passion was outstanding and no one questioned her motives or drive, and after years of trying and trying to become ordained, she achieved that goal. Then the Nazis came to power, sent her away, and killed her at the age of 42.

Here is to you, Rabbi Regina Jonas, for all that you did, all that you set in motion, and all that we hopefully can and will learn for you. May your name be a blessing. Amen.

Some resources (web resources, of course, can be taken with a grain of salt, but taken none the less):
http://www.haaretz.com/hasen/pages/ShArt.jhtml?itemNo=431619
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Regina_Jonas
http://www.hagalil.com/deutschland/berlin/rabbiner/jonas.htm
http://faculty.smcm.edu/kvonkellenbach/jonas.htm
http://www.brightonandhoveprosynagogue.org.uk/sermon-regina-jones.htm

To be or not to be ... a rabbi?

Ian and I went to shul last night, not sure what to expect as it was the "going away" service for one of the rabbis, who is moving to a temple up in Skokie that is much, MUCH smaller and where she will be the only rabbi. Our shul has three rabbis (the leaving rabbi is being replaced by another female rabbi), a cantor, and about a bajillion members. It's location south of Evanston and north of downtown is convenient, if only we didn't live so far away. But we're joining and I'm sort of ... well ... glad the rabbi is leaving. Does that make me horrible? I blogged about her before here, and I don't know what to expect from the new rabbi, but I'm eager to see if she's a little more accessible. The service wasn't overly long, but included what the shul likes to call "Friday Night Live." We also weren't sure what to expect with this, but it turned out to be pretty sweet. There was a mini "band" that included a violinist, bongo drummer, clarinet player and pianist. The songs had a klezmer/middle eastern flare and it made the service incredibly lively. It also was held in the sanctuary, which I find much, much more inviting than the chapel, but that's me. The rabbi gave a speech about Shalom/Sholom and its various meanings ... and my conclusion afterward was that "every rabbi needs an editor."

But I think I have a negative predisposition for female rabbis.

When I first started my journey to Judaism, I was put in touch with the rabbi of the local reform synagogue, of which became my home, which I miss so dearly. The rabbi was a woman, and we sat down for coffee after I got up the nerve to make a meeting. The thing is, I'd read just about every conversion book on the planet and had gotten the spiel about being turned away, but I wasn't worried about that. What I was worried about was feeling warm and welcome. What I didn't feel immediately was just that -- warm and welcome. The people at the temple were the most inviting individuals I'd ever met, but the rabbi didn't seem to match that. I couldn't find that connection, and the coldness left a sour taste in my mouth ... so when she left and the current rabbi arrived, I felt so blessed. I was his first convert and our connection was immediate. Since then, I think I've had a predisposition to dislike female rabbis. The most interesting bit about this is that the rabbi I converted through used to -- and continues to -- joke about me going to rabbinical school. It's something I've thought of many, many times, but I always come back to my sentiments.

I know that it's more than just having a cold female rabbi, there's other issues there. I'm just still trying to figure out precisely what they are. In some ways I'm sure it's connected to my exploration of the roles of men and women in the synagogue, and I blogged on some of that in my entry about the mechitzah here. I think theologically I'm more on a conservative end. I ebb and flow, though. But I know that it has something to do with why I have hangups about female rabbis. There's a lot at work there, and I suppose I should spend some time figuring out what the heck it is.

Luckily, I've discovered the campus bookstore and it'll be a lot easier to do that now :) Maybe I'll start with Pamela Nadell's "Women Who Would Be Rabbis: A History of Women’s Ordination 1889-1985," though I might start with Ilana Bluberg's "Houses of Study: A Jewish Woman among Books." The avenues are endless ...