Blog Promotion

So I just wanted to shout out a few blogs here, because, well, I think it's important for Bloggers to support other Bloggers (or, you know, those people who use Wordpress or some other FAR INFERIOR version of Blogger ... I kid, I kid).

True Ancestor discusses being "bageled." I, as it turns out, was just bageled by another student ... check out my comment on his very interesting blog post.

Then there's Rachel, who just started up her Shavua Tov! blog this month, and I have to say it's worth a read. She's been writing about Yiddish and loading up on texts to get her rolling in her conversion process. Give her a read and say hello!

Get busy reading ... the J-blogosphere is large and needs some love!

Parshah Eikev and my Jewish birthday!

CHEERFUL COMPANY AND A MERRY TIME ARE AHEAD FOR YOU.

That was my fortune today with my orange/sweet and sour chicken from Panda Express. So here I am, sitting outside attempting to make friends with other students in the little quad area of the graduate housing complex. I suppose that's a start, eh?

I sat down last night and read this week's Torah portion, as well as some more in Rabbi Marc D. Angel's new novel The Search Committee. I also somehow stumbled upon Chabad.org's nifty Jewish birthday calculator. In fact, I think it's pretty awesome that my Jewish birthday is 23 Tishrei, and the Torah portion is Bereishit -- the first parshah of the Jewish year! And my "normal" calendar birthday, September 30, is the first day of Rosh Hashanah this year. That's new beginnings, fresh starts, like a rebirth of sorts, and I think that's so appropriate considering my path and how I got here and where I've ended up.Throw that into how I'm starting a new leg to my journey in life and wow, beautiful happenstance all around.

So a few words on this week's portion, Eikev, which is Deut. 7:12-11:25. Right off the bat, Moses is saying that only if the Israelites heed the commandments and laws of G-d will they really be taken care of.

And it will be, because you will heed these ordinances and keep them and perform, that the Lord, your God, will keep for you the covenant and the kindness that He swore to your forefathers. (7:12)

But then, Moses says:

Do not say to yourself, when the Lord, your God, has repelled them from before you, saying, "Because of my righteousness, the Lord has brought me to possess this land," and [that] because of the wickedness of these nations, the Lord drives them out from before you. Not because of your righteousness or because of the honesty of your heart, do you come to possess their land, but because of the wickedness of these nations, the Lord your God drives them out from before you, and in order to establish the matter that the Lord swore to your forefathers, Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob. You shall know that, not because of your righteousness, the Lord, your God, gives you this land to possess it; for you are a stiffnecked people. (9:4-6)

So my beefs here are as follows. The parshah starts out essentially by saying that G-d will only grant kindness if we do EXACTLY as he commands. This implies a cause-effect relationship: you do bad, G-d punishes, you do good, G-d bestows kindness. Of course, this is problematic in a pluralistic Jewish society and it definitely gives weight to those who follow the commandments completely and utterly strictly, with no room for evolution or interpretation, and unless the commandments are followed most precisely, then of course there will be no kindness. This is equally powerful for those who suggest that the reason Israel has not been fully returned is because we have not followed the commandments to perfection. It "proves" that this is all just punishment, right? This is problematic, and I'm not sure how to resolve it. 

But then in the second set of text we see that G-d isn't repelling our enemies because of our good and accurate following of the commandments and laws, but rather because they are wicked. So if G-d intends to drive them out because of their own wickedness, what is the point of following the commandments? If the land becomes ours because of the faults of others, then do we really need to follow the laws? Of course there is a lot more that comes out of following the mitzvot than merely the acquisition of land. 

Of course, then there's "For the Lord, your God, is God of gods and the Lord of the lords, the great mighty and awesome God, Who will show no favor, nor will He take a bribe" (10:17), which sort of contradicts the whole "chosen" people idea that we are to be a light unto the nations, perhaps a holier nation than others so that we can lead by example. Of course, I'm not saying here that the Jewish nation is "better" than other nations, because that's the oft quoted bit about why people don't like Jews, because we think we're "better" than others because of the notion of being a chosen nation. But in reality, it does suggest that the Jewish nation is favored as being an example to other nations. It doesn't imply better, just different, but still it suggests a certain amount of favorability.

But in truth, this entire parshah is a reminder to us that we are an obnoxious, hard to please, frustrating group of people who need to climb off our high horse and see what good might befall us should we opt to follow the commandments and do our part to look into the WHY of the commandments that G-d placed upon us. I'm a firm believer that history repeats, repeats, repeats. People never really change, and we all tend toward making the same mistakes of our forebears. The scenery might change, there might be more technology, buildings are bigger and business is bigger and our clothes are finer, but in reality, the human mind continues to function in the ways it has in the past. In this, I mean, that the commandments of yore are still applicable today. We just have to figure out how to adjust our lives to fit the commandments and not the other way around. 

We are a stiffnecked people, indeed, so let's figure it out. 

Ye Olde Video Blog!

A Flickr Slideshow and a Promise to Return.

So I'm pretty beat from the 2.5 days of traveling non-stop. My stomach hates me for all the crud I ingested, and my body in general is fighting to stay awake. I managed without a nap today after moving everything into my graduate housing dorm, as well, so I think I'm really doing quite swell. But I managed to put up a bunch of photos on Flickr, and I had planned on doing a video blog (that is, a vlog) to sort of detail some things and to show you all my new digs in Storrs, CT, I'm just out of energy for the night. So, what you will get, is this fun little Flickr slideshow, generated using the fabulous Flickr Slideshow Generator. But please come back tomorrow, when surely, I'll have a lot to say (semi-)live in a vlog!

Note: That first picture? Chavi at 1 a.m. in Ohio, exhausted and wanting to sleep but finding her brain on overdrive. Sans glasses, sans makeup, lots of sleepy thrown on and you have Full Disclosure Me. 

Ruby Tuesday -- on the road!

I thought I'd pop in to post a quick Ruby Tuesday photo from my travels thus far. This one is from the Starlite Lounge in Lincoln, Neb. -- my favorite all-time bar/lounge, for its retro feel and faux martini drinks.

For those keeping tabs, I'm presently in Ohio, near Pennsylvania. I'm stopping off today in Philly to visit a friend, then on to CT tonight and moving in tomorrow. I'm hoping to move in so that I don't miss all of the Nefesh b'Nefesh blogger conference. Darn the time difference!

Be well!

A mini break.

So I won't really be blogging much probably until late next week, if not beyond that, mostly because I'm en route (as my last blog mentioned) and as such I don't have easy access to internet, nor do I really have the energy necessary to dish out meaningful and relevant posts. Please keep me in mind, though, as I travel. I can use all the helpful prayers I can get.

In the meantime, here is a thought that I hope to blog on at some point in the not-so-distant future: Torah as given to Moses and the Israelites by G-d versus Torah being taught by G-d to Moses and subsequently the Israelites. Is the wordage necessarily different? Significant? Important? I think so, yes.

Until then ... Iowa from the road (circa August 13) says hello.

Chavi en Route: Part I

The thing about a nearly eight-hour drive across Western Illinois, the entire state of Iowa, and a smidgen of Nebraska, is that you have a lot of time to sit and think. Yes, the rental car is brand new (a 2009 Ford Focus), and yes it has a bajillion channels on Sirius Satellite radio, but that doesn't mean the wheels stop turning. The car lacks cruise control, so I had to spend a certain amount of energy making sure I wasn't breaking the sound barrier, but I made really good time and as I pulled into Nebraska a little after 10:15 last night, I felt a sense of nervous calm flush over me. I know that sounds contradictory, but I guess I have to explain.

Driving into Nebraska, you realize how dark and quiet everything is, and this is where the calm comes from. I miss being able to see every last star in the sky, to watch the moon shuffle behind dark clouds and it to be completely, utterly pitch black. The nervousness comes from being home again after eight months. Though, I don't know if I can really call it home anymore, since it isn't where I hang my hat and it is most definitely not where my heart it. Then again, my heart is on one coast and I'll soon be on the other coast. That was food for thought during the length of my trip, but I digress.

Have you ever been to Nebraska? Do you understand it's absolutely underrated beauty? The simplicity, the quiet, the dark, the complete and utter sanctuary-style life. This truly is G-d's country. 

I'm sitting at my favorite coffee shop in the entire world -- the Coffee House in Lincoln, Nebraska. Some call it Panache, but in truth they don't really get it. Panache is what the overhang reads, but it's the Coffee House. I started coming here in high school, and I lived for a long time off of their Irish Mocha before I was able to drink straight coffee without gagging. I've watched the furniture change from dingy couches to upscale plus chairs and couches you might find at Pier 1 Imports. But it still has that classy, collegiate coffee house vibe. The chalk board still hangs in the women's bathroom, and people have taken to writing on it in marker since, well, chalk in the bathroom isn't very sanitary.

But the best part?

I walked into the coffee shop and there, sitting in the big open first room were two classic regulars of the Coffee House -- the Russian who was always friendly and here more than I ever was, and the old man with tattoos all over his arm, sporting the sleeveless shirt I always knew him in. The guy at the counter is the same as it was those years ago when I'd spend eight hours a day studying Biblical Hebrew. Those days were more productive, too, because I didn't have a laptop and I actually had to focus on the work (sans distractions). It was like coming home. I mean really, really coming home.

So I haven't even been "home" for an entire 24 hours, but I notice the divide. Maybe when I go out with friends tomorrow and Saturday I'll start to feel like I'm back and like I'm floating right back into the place I once fit. But there are certain people who aren't here, who -- to me -- make this place feel like home. Thus, I'll drink my Irish Mocha and surf the web and eat at all my old haunts and watch little Timmy fill up his coin collecting book and watch people study and the regulars do their thing and I'll think about the long drive I have coming up.

If I thought the nearly eight-hour drive was long, my head just might implode during the 22-hour trek to Connecticut I have coming up.

The blog.

Thanks to all of those who pointed out the errors on my blog. Turns out the host of the images exceeded his bandwith and everything went to pot, so I'm now hosting the images myself so I don't have to worry about the site imploding and people not seeing dates/the comments field. They were always there, just blended in with the background. So phew!

Comment away and let's hope Google doesn't implode (googlepages is hosting my images!).

Ruby Tuesday!

I present for your approval, another installment of Ruby Tuesday, a blog photo project where you post a photo with some red in it -- a lot or a little -- and the only catch is that it must be one of your very own. This photo is from the 3rd of July at Montrose Harbor and if you look carefully, you can see the red stripes of our very own American Flag, as well as some ruddy red boat bottoms.

Tisha B'av: What happened?

I've spent my afternoon catching up on blogs, Facebook messages, forum postings and the like. My intention for today was to catch completely up after having been computer-free the entire weekend, save for what little connection I could manage through my BlackBerry at home. I want to post about teh entire weekend -- Shabbos to Tisha B'av -- but first I wanted to catch up and see what the rest of the world has been up to. Thus, I wasn't surprised to find so many posts about J-Bloggers about Tisha B'av, spanning the struggle to connect or get through or relate with the day of mourning, or simply just about observing the day. Among them were Frum Satire, Aliza H., the On Chanting blog, Jack, and Ilana-Davita provides some food for thought and links to other interesting posts about Tisha B'av. Then, of course, we have the Haveil Havalim Tisha B'av edition, in case you're looking for some new blogs to check out.

But really, let's talk about my take on the weekend. I hadn't necessarily anticipated an e-free Shomer Shabbos style Shabbat, but it turned out that way. I headed to the Orthodox shul Friday night, not necessarily intending to go for a Shabbos dinner either, but I ran into a girl who I'd met months ago in Skokie and we were catching up after services and she asked me along to the dinner she was heading to. Luckily, they had room and were more than happy to have me. The dinner lasted well into the night, and I didn't make it home until nearly 2 in the morning. There was lots of singing and talking and the host, a rabbi, and I discussed my impending move to Connecticut -- it turns out he spent a year in West Hartford and knows just about everyone there is to know, so he's going to connect me. We talked about academics and grammar, since another fellow at our end of the table was a grammar nut like me. I realized that I would love to emulate this rabbi and his wife -- they are, in my mind, what Orthodoxy is meant to be. After dinner and conversation, I finally headed out with the friend and after leaving her to go her way around Addison/Broadway, I decided to hop on the bus because it was late and I was tired. The interesting thing? I got on the bus and the bus-pass reading machine was BROKEN. Because of this little spark of luck, I went home and left the lights out, didn't turn anything on, and went to bed. I woke up the next day with a migraine and didn't make it to morning services. I spent the day at home, reading and mulling about, and somehow the day managed to flitter away.

I took a nap and woke up for ma'ariv and eicha. I'll admit, I've never been around for a Tisha B'av service before, and I wasn't sure what to expect, especially since the Tisha B'av prayer book wasn't, well, transliterated. I was amazed at how many people were there -- especially on the women's side. You see, I'm guessing that during Shabbos most of the women are at home preparing for the after-shul visitors, so they don't make it in for services. But there were so many women, so many hats, so many hat-toting women! After ma'ariv we all found our places on the floor and listened as each chapter was chanted by a different male -- their voices varied in tone and volume, and it was a very interesting experience that I really actually enjoyed. I would read the English fairly quickly and then follow along in the Hebrew, and it worked out quite well. After services, I walked the whole way home becuase the weather was beautiful, on the way calling my mom to explain the holiday to her. I don't know that she was interested, but I feel like informing them might someday come in handy.

I didn't make it to morning services at shul because I was up so late the night before (my sleep schedule is off), so I slept in till about 11:30, got up, and went to shul for the movie marathon. I came in about half-way through the first film, and, well, the nudity made me a bit shifty in my chair. The second movie "Go for Zucker," was a really good movie, but definitely not appropriate for a holiday of mourning since, well, it was sort of a happy, mend-your-ties kind of film. The only relateable element was perhaps the sitting shiva, but that was a minor part of the film. I left after that movie and walked to the bookshop, but found myself unable to focus on anything, so I went home where I wasted the day away until the fast ended, at which time I ate something, took some tylenol, and then tried to sleep.

So, nu? What did I get out of the fast day? I'll be completely honest with everyone here: I felt completel distant from Tisha B'av. I went through the motions, but for some reason, my mind was fully occupied with moving, school, and changes. I'm usually good with the mourning thing. The Holocaust is still fresh in my mind, despite being utterly removed from it by both familial ties and the fact that it occured dozens of years before I was born. The destruction of the temples and the expulsion of the Jews from Spain and all of those events, perhaps because I'm so attached to academia and history, are very fresh in my mind, too. But yesterday, for some reason, I felt like I was in a daze the entire time. Like, I couldn't even think about the purpose of Tisha B'av. Like it was a mist passing over me. I'm not sure what happened. Maybe I just didn't prepare myself, maybe I didn't really take the nine days to get in the place necessary to really grieve. At any rate, Tisha B'av has passed and now we are preparing for the High Holidays. It's strange how quickly this year has gone by, and it seems that I'm less and less prepared for major Jewish milestones.

What gives? And why did it suddenly get harder? I guess I have a whole year to really figure it out. Let's hope it doesn't creep up on me next year.

Anyhow, for those wondering, that little image there has the translated text of Lamentations in a mosaic of sorts.

The Web Presence Groweth!

In case you were worried about  me having enough to do as I get ready to start grad school (which means loads of free time, right?), I've taken on another blogging duty! Yes, folks, I'm now helping the blog effort over on Pop Judaica's blog. The Pop Judaica website sells all sorts of kitschy cool things for hip and worldly Jews (from tots to your bubbe) -- I've even blogged on some of the neat-o merchandise in past pots.

The blog will keep you up to date on a variety of happenings, including a Bar Mitzvah in China, which I just blogged on! Stay tuned for more Pop Judaica blog tidbits, and spread the word. Chavi is taking on the interwebs by storm! Join the revolution :)

If you're looking for me elsewhere on the net, well, I'm over at Jewsbychoice.org and HeatEatReview.com, not to mention on Twitter, Facebook, Myspace, BrightKite, Flickr, and more. Yes, I'm everywhere.

And also, I'll be taking part in First International Jewish Bloggers Convention via the web on August 20 (assuming I'm settled in by then). To register, check out the site here. Frum Satire will be doing his schtick and there will be a bounty of well-known J-Bloggers on site for panel discussions, including Treppenwitz, Jewlicious, IsraelMatzav and Hirhurim, and the beautiful J-Blogging moderator, Esther K. 

Ever so Busy

I spent today juggling dozens of tasks, among them phone calls with Sara from PopJudaica and Avi from Jews By Choice in addition to my regular at-work work. Of course I was also checking up on Facebook, Twittering, and sending emails to various lucky parties. Oh, did I mention I was also holding down a conversation on Pidgin with my far-away friend Cesar?

But all the while, I managed to make use my office's scanner, since tomorrow is my last day, copying pages I'd taken notes on and flagged in A Heart of Many Rooms: Celebrating the Many Voices within Judaism by David Hartman (a book that Avi had suggested to me, actually). Although I can't say that I read every last page of the book, I did read about seven-eighths of it, and I have to say it was an outstanding read. Of course, I have 26 pages with various notes and comments that -- at some point -- I will collect into one (hopefully) coherent thought. Until, then, though, I wanted to offer a few snippets from the text.

This first one is where the title of the book comes from, and I think the ideas within this block of quoted text essentially define for me what is necessary to be a Jew today:

There is a beautiful metaphor in the Tosefta that describes the kind of religious sensibility the Talmud tried to nurture: "Make yourself a heart of many rooms and bring into it the words of the House of Shammai and the words of the House of Hillel, the words of those who declare unclean and the words of those who declare clean" (Sotah 7:12). In other words, become a person whom different opinions can reside together in the very depths of your soul. Become a religious person who can live with ambiguity, who can feel religious conviction and passion without the need for simplicity and absolute certainty.
         In this type of interpretive tradition, awareness of the validity of contrary positions enhances, rather than diminishes, the vitality and enthusiasm of religious commitment.

All too often we think it's our way or the highway; but these differing positions -- be it on Torah or who is a Jew or on what is Kosher enough -- should enhance the Jewish experience. After all, probably the most quoted line about the Jewish people is the old "two Jews, three opinions" line.

The second little snippet I wanted to share was one of those things I read and smiled and nodded my head in approval:

Let the Torah never be for you an antiquated decree, but rather like a decree freshly issued, no more than two or three days old. ... But Ben Azzai said: Not even as old as a decree issued two or three days ago, but as a decree issued this very day. (Pesikta de-Rab Kahana, piska 12:12)

The thing I love about studying Torah is that every time I read a portion, even though I've read it before (and yes, it is a full year later), it is like reading it for the first time. I notice a strange translation, a peculiar word choice, an interesting repitition, a contradiction, a unique instance of an idea or thought. Though I have only been studying Torah for a few years, and many begin studying from a very early age and continue throughout life, this concept seems so natural to me. You can read a text every day your entire life, and there will be instances of complete realization -- it is inevitable that you will discover something you missed before. The verbage, the choice of punctuation, the tone of the text, the scenery.

I sometimes read back through my own work and will often think "I wrote that? I wonder why I chose that word. I really punctuated my thought that way?" And this, of course, is the beauty of the written word. It is what I live and breathe, and really drinking it all in allows me to thrive.

So it is with that, that I leave you. I find myself anxious about the approaching Tisha B'av. I feel horribly unprepared and not in the proper state of mind because of the changing winds of my present situation (on Wednesday I leave for Nebraska, and on August 18 I start on my drive to Connecticut). But somehow, everything always seems to fall into place.

Shalom!

Revisiting Shabbatai Zvi, the False Messiah.

Oy it's been a busy couple of days. Word got out that I really wasn't doing much at work, so my administrator decided to throw a whole bunch of work at me, just to make sure my last week really reminds me of what I'm leaving. At any rate, I haven't had much time at work to respond to comments or to work on any blogging. So here I am, sacrificing dinner to hang out at this lovely coffee shop in my neighborhood for some liquid dinner so I can respond to some emails and perhaps elaborate on comments I made about Shabbatai Zvi and the Baal Shem Tov and the book Constantine’s Sword in this post. In that post, I mentioned a note I had made while reading the text some months ago about the author's mention of these two men so close together implied "falseness." Let's discuss.

(As background on the author: James Carroll, is a former priest and former Catholic chaplain, who left the cloth to become a writer. He is active in the Jewish-Christian-Muslim debate circle and has written extensively on Catholicism. This book, in particular is a confessional of sorts, about his coming to terms with the church's role in Jewish history.)

I've transcribed the text from the scanned copy of the page (389) I have, and I realized that the rest of the section, which is important, is on a page that I didn't scan (and 390 isn't part of the Google Book Preview!). Thus, this is what I have:

... other manifestations of Jewish vitality showed themselves. Messianic figures appeared, like David Reubeni and Solomon Molcho in Portugal, and conversos and unconverted Jews alike took heart from their bold rejection of the idea that Jews were fated to be oppressed. In the next century a Kabbalist from the Turkish city of Izmir emerged as the leader of one of the most potent religious-political movements in Jewish history. He was Shabbatai Zvi, a self-declared Messiah who found enthusiastic followers in Jewish communities around the Mediterranean, and in Europe as well, especially Poland. The political hopes that many had for Shabbatai came to nothing when, imprisoned by the Turks in 1666 -- the combination of sixes in that year had made it portentous -- he chose to convert to Islam rather than risk martyrdom. But his heroic movement had by then spawned numerous centers of enthusiastic Judaism, including one that would quicken in Poland and Ukraine in the eighteenth century. Spreading throughout eastern Europe, this movement was led by Israel ben Eliezer, the beloved Baal Shem Tov.  ...

I know that it is the author's intention to discuss the prevailing movements during this period in relation to Kabbalah, and I know that a simple reading of this section alone would leave an average reader with the sense that Shabbatai Zvi did a good thing for the community, as his "heroic movement ... spawned numerous centers of enthusiastic Judaism." Follow this with the Baal Shem Tov, and the reader is just aglow with the glory of these two men and their contributions to Judaism and the Jewish community. But for those who know about Shabbetai Zvi and how he truly effected the Jewish community, this is a mess of irritating text.

Shabbatai Zvi declared himself the Messiah. The Baal Shem Tov never did such a thing (some of his followers see him as coming from the Davidic line and thus is a part of the Messianic story, though). From a very basic perspective, this puts the two men very, very far apart. SZ was viewed later as a loony, sort of a joke and an unfortunate person in the history of Jewish thought, whereas the BST is revered as a great sage and a great founder of a mighty powerful spiritual movement. Simply saying that SZ helped create this lively, enthusiastic Judaism is ignorant, because as Torah Jew pointed out in the comments on my previous post, he did a lot to destroy much of Judaism. The short-term effects might have been useful, but the long-term effects were tragic. I can't even fathom why the author would call SZ's efforts a "heroic movement." I just can't bring myself to think that there IS NOT some type of subtext here.

Am I crazy? I am an analyst of text; it's what I do. And to me, obviously when I read this it set off some red flags, and it continues to grate my cheese.

There are some interesting comments about what it was that Shabbatai Zvi was doing juxtaposed with what the Baal Shem Tov was doing. These comments are from The Rebbe, but more can be found at that link:

As for comparing the movement of Shabbatai Zvi to the Hassidic movement—every movement that is started by someone of the Jewish people has some common point because it was started by a Jew. Shabbatai Zvi also was a scholar not only in Kabbalah but in halacha, but after a few years he deviated from the right derech (path). It became something that not was only deviant just the opposite of Judaism. ...
Shabbatai Zvi negated halacha. In the time of Shabbatai Zvi there was a group of Catholic priests that translated Kabbalistic manuscripts and studied Kabbalah. But this is not considered Jewish Kabbalah, as the Catholics did not put on tefillin. It is just like someone in Sorbonne, Brooklyn College, or some other university who can learn Kabbalah without putting on tefillin. For true Kabbalah cannot be separated from halacha.

I feel awkward posting this for some reason. I'm not a Hasid, nor am I Orthodox (yet!), but I think examining the two routes are significant. At any rate, this point of view makes sense to me, and it's also why I roll my eyes at Madonna and A-Rod.

Anyhow, if it is most necessary I'll pick the book back up and find out what's on that next page to satisfy the readers of the blog. I'm not sure if I'm getting my point across, but I hope that I am. Let me know what you think, and please let me know if you think I'm reading way too much into the author's intent. 

NOTE: Computer battery is dying, so I might add more to this post in the AM. Stay tuned, please!

It's Ruby Tuesday.

It's Ruby Tuesday (that means it's Tuesday and it's time to post a photo with some red in it), and me being the in-awe person that I am, I'm actually posting a photo taken by someone that is NOT me. This photo was actually taken by the blogger Mottel, and like all of his photos, it is outstandingly brilliant. I find myself wanting to crawl into each of his pictures for a mere moment to smell the aromas and feel the breeze or stillness of a room. At any rate, I hope you enjoy this photo, because by golly I know I do.

EDIT: Okay, okay. I feel bad. The rules are that it has to be one of my own ... so ... in addition to Mottel's beautiful photo with some ruby in it, here's one of mine. These are rows and rows of red chairs at the Pritzker Auditorium in Chicago, IL.

Coffee with Your Torah?

While scanning pages I'd noted while attempting (and failing) to read Constatine's Sword: The Church and the Jews: A History, I came across an interesting passage that I just felt like sharing because it makes me smile. For those of you unaware, I started reading this book many moons ago and have renewed it repeatedly. The 175 pages remaining never got read, and I essentially threw up my hands in protest at the behemoth size of the text and its almost unreadability because of the way the book is -- the entire book (text, notes, index, etc.) is nearly 800 pages, all in one big hardcover binding. It's just inconceivable to read unless you're planning on sitting down at a table consistently becuase it's such a clunker. At any rate, enough kvetching. Essentially I had dozens of pages noted with various comments, and wanted to keep those in case I pick it up again, hence the scanning.

In a chapter (37) on the religious response of Jews to the implementation of the Roman ghetto, the author, James Carroll, speaks about the lively religious community within the ghetto walls. Carroll says, "If the Christian world had cut them off, the Jews would turn their separation into a religious value" (387). The passage goes on to talk about what Jews did in order to sort of religiously rebel against the forces keeping them down, and it is the following that gives me a grin:

If Jews were forbidden to leave the ghetto at night, then night would become not only the time for study and prayer, but an image of G-d's own darkness. (Jews in the ghetto, in the seventeenth century, drank newly imported coffee as a way of staying awake.). 

The item in parens is footnoted to a text by Kenneth R. Stow, "Sanctity and the Construction of Space: The Roman Ghetto as Sacred Space," in which, in reference to coffee, he says, "First, one stimulated his body with this miraculous new beverage, and then he stimulated his soul by ritual devotion."

Isn't that outstanding? Maybe I'm easily amused, or maybe I'm just an academic, but it's morsels like this that fascinate me.

(Of course, it's completely unrelated, but two pages later the author mentions Shabbetai Zvi and the Baal Shem Tov essentially in the same breath, which is valid discussion for an entirely different blog post. Needless to say, I had a written note with this aformentioned paragraph that read: "places Shabbetai Zvi in same breath as Baal Shem Tov -- implying falseness??")

The Jewish Vote: Nice Try, McCain!

It amazes me to no end -- though, in reality it shouldn't -- how significant the Jewish vote really is. Jews make up, what, 2 to 3 percent of the U.S. population? And yet, we're courted with the best of them, by all parties in hopes that the vote will swing one way or the other. Both sides appeal to our attachment to Israel, whether we're Secular Zionists, Religious Zionists, not Zionists at all, or just see Israel as a necessity in case something bad happens again (we'll need a refuge). Otherwise, for some, it's just the mention of Israel that sparks our interest -- afterall, it's almost hard-wired for us to vote based on the interests of Israel, isn't it?

So I thought it was interesting that while reading the Chicago Jewish News that I happ'd upon a brief opinion piece about a statement by McCain in late July that he intends to move the U.S. embassay in Israel immediately upon his election to Jerusalem from Tel Aviv. I seem to have slept through this announcement -- either that or it was quickly shuffled away because of his ridiculous ads likening Obama to Britney Spears and Paris Hilton. At any rate, I Googled this interesting little tidbit and came up with a piece from the Huffington Post that quickly cleared up the reason it probably didn't seem to hit on the radar: Bush promised it 8 years ago, and has anything happened since then? Nope. Still in Tel Aviv.

From what I can tell, the moving of the embassy from Tel Aviv to Jerusalem isn't really that important to the Jewish/Israeli community as most (ignorant) politicians might think. And this seems like common knowledge, so I'm still trying to figure out why the author of this little op/ed piece insists that Barack Obama needs to step up and make the same (lofty and unncessary) promise in order to level the playing field or something.

Believe me, this isn't going to win McCain the election. Lofty, overreaching and ignorant promises don't help your campaign, they hurt it. And I'm sort of glad that this issue fell off the radar about as quickly as it hit it. It seems to me that the big divide for the Jewish vote is that nasty race issue and the elderly Jewish community. So for something a little more light-hearted, and in case you never saw it, please watch this side-splitting segment from the Daily Show!

Do yer Laundry, and Getcher Blog on!

 

Photo by Kevin O'Donnell at Kevino.net.

Yes, it's that time again. Haveil Havalim #176-- The Dirty Laundry Edition -- is up over at Frumhouse. Give it a go and check out the delicious tastings of the Jewish blogosphere.

Photography break.

Black pipes and light from a desk lamp at Dollop Coffee in Buena Park, Chicago, IL.

Struggling with Shabbos, An Ongoing Effort

After a commute of more than two hours yesterday, I was ready to throw in the towel and not go to shul at all. Add to that that I had three options -- Chabad on the roof in Wicker Park, a cook-out at the Conservative shul (CS) followed by services indoors, and standard service at the Orthodox shul (OS) -- I was hesistant to do anything. But I changed, grabbed my bus pass and keys and headed out the door to the cookout, with the initial intention to go there first and then hop over to the Orthodox shul for 7:30 services. But after I got off the bus in front of the CS, I realized that I was wearing a short-sleeve shirt, sans a cardigan, and thus I changed my plans to just stay at the CS.

I grabbed a hamburger patty, some fruit, a brownie, and plopped down with friends, noshed, bensched and then went inside for services, which were very small. The chazzan provided the small crowd with long, drawn-out melodies that I was unfamiliar with, and a fellow next to me informed me that he was practicing for High Holidays most likely. It's funny, because I found myself having a harder time following the service through the Conservite siddur than I do with the Artscroll siddur at OS. How's that possible, I wonder? Maybe it's the layout, or that I've spent more time with the Orthodox siddur, or that the transliteration (while sometime frustrating) provides more cues and information for the reader. Like the couple steps forward and couple steps back routine -- the Artscroll siddur spells it out for you, which I appreciate. Yes, the speed of an Orthodox service is lightning fast compared to that at a Reform or Conservative shul, but I've almost grown accostmed to it. After services, I walked home, feeling in-the-spirit of being Shomer Shabbos, reading the World Jewish Digest as I trekked the quick mile home.

I managed to be unplugged today until a little after 11 a.m., when my lack of will power kicked in and had me turning my BlackBerry on. Of course, there was nothing life-altering in my inbox -- there never is -- and the imminent guilt set in. As I got ready, I was racking my brain trying to remember this little passage I read in the siddur last night, that had struck me as both profound and insightful. I tried to apply my sometimes-visual memory, but all I could see was the page, not the words. I knew that it was somethig from the Mishnah, but I couldn't place it. It was only when I was riding the bus to get some lunch and I was considering the whole no-spending-money bit for Shabbos that I remembered what the passage that struck me was about. I can't remember if this is accurate, but this is about the right gist of what it was saying:

When the world was created, God made everything a little bit incomplete. Rather than making bread grow out of the earth, God made wheat grow so that we might bake it into bread. Rather than making the earth of bricks, God made it of clay so that we might bake the clay into bricks. Why? So that we might become partners in completing the work of creation.

Now, of course this is one of those "duh" things that is generally obvious, but reading it in this fashion, the way it is explained, is truly enlightening, I think. You never really think about WHY it is that bread doesn't grow out of the ground, right? The thought that we have to take part in using the materials G-d has provided in order to create the bread never really crosses our minds.

We spend all week doing these things -- creating, building, doing our part in the work of creation -- and on Shabbos we're supposed to rest, to do that which we do not do all week. And every day I seem to find more reason to be Shomer Shabbos, and yet, here I am, typing away on my laptop, drinking the coffee that I purchased, not being even remotely observant of the Sabbath. It's a beautiful day, even. I could have taken a book outside near the beach and sat under a tree and read. But that attachment to technology just won over, again, as it seems to do every week. It's part of this idea that I need to be busy, that I need to be connected to everything, just in case. I mean, if I lived in a community where everyone around me was studying and davening and noshing pre-cooked food, I think that I would be less inclined to feel the necessity of being attached. But, of course, that's no excuse.

Like everything in my life, I say that once I go away to school it will change. Part of me is quite confident in this idea, simply because a city environment versus an academic/college environment are very different.



Anyhow. I find it peculiar that I have more reasons to do something than I do not to. I suppose it's like those who smoke despite knowing the health risks, or those who go scuba diving with sharks knowing full well that they're in danger. It's all about choice -- that darned free will we've been imbued with.

Maybe, when I get to school, I'll find a coffee shop open on Saturdays and set up one of those pay-in-advance things so that I can have my coffee and sit at a coffee shop without breaking the Sabbath. People do that, right? It's a thing to do.

Blog Empty Thoughts or Leave it to Someone Else

I stumbled upon a post by Jack yesterday while browsing my Google Reader feeds, and it got me thinking: Should I have guest bloggers? Do interviews of other bloggers? Says Jack: "Do you find yourself racking your brain or scouring the web for that one perfect topic to blog about? Do you find yourself cursing out loud because you discoved that the topic you wish to discuss has already been covered by 6,354 other bloggers, and at least six of them did a better job than you." And oddly enough, my answer to this is sometimes (perhaps once a week) YES!

You see, for some reason my page views and hits have gone up, nearly tripled in the past month. I credit this to having branched out in my blog viewing, tossing on such big names as Frum Satire, a psuedo superstar of the Jewish blogging world. (Note: If you get a big WARNING when you click on that link, it's because he got hacked and Google hasn't rekindled its love for Frum Satire just yet; don't worry, it's safe.) I've found that, if I comment elsewhere, or end up on the Blog Roll of some e-Jew superstar, I'm more likely to get hits. But it feels really self-serving and almost, well, dirty.

But with new frequent readers and commenters, I find myself, as Jack said, racking my brain for the perfect topic to post on. I mean, I have about a dozen posts in the works -- that is, in my head, but not finding their way to my fingers fast enough -- but I feel like I need to blog at least once a day (hence the random, and pointless Wordle yesterday).

With this mindset, though, comes the question of quality versus quantity. I could post something every day and never get a comment, and it would be a waste of my time and that of the reader. I want to have a blog where every post ends up like my Torah blog post the other day -- where there is conversation, questioning, discussion, and thought.

I suppose it's all about balance, but I think Jack brings up an interesting issue. And it's got me thinking. I read so many other blogs, many of them by people who have a mass e-following and some who have even made a career out of blogging (which, in all honesty, I'd kill to do). So in the not-so-distant future, you might find me interviewing someone of significant importance, perhaps on how they got so big, how being Jewish has affected their blog output, etc. I'm intrigued, and though I'm no reporter (read: I'm a trained copy editor who just likes to write), I think I'm pretty sound with the questioning.

So what do you think? Do you ever toy with guest posters on your blog like A Simple Jew often does? Or are you happy with how your blog is going? Do you seek blog satisfaction? Or is it an afterthought?