Last month after returning from Israel, I wrote about the challenges teachers face in building a relationship between Americans and the State of Israel. In light of the reactions to the announcement of the plan for building 1,600 housing units in East Jerusalem--timed perfectly with Vice President Biden's diplomatic mission to Israel to restart the peace process, this task has become even more difficult. How do we teach American Jews of all ages in a way that builds commitment to a country negatively represented in many American public spheres?
Robbie Gringras, a staff member of MAKOM in Israel writes, “We need to shift from ‘hugging' to ‘wrestling.’ Just as its biblical echoes suggest, wrestling with Israel requires an effort, a fight, a struggle. But it also demands an intimacy and a commitment. The time has come for us to wrestle with Israel in the dust, in the night, and, yes, sometimes in our pain.”
Gringras describes the importance of maintaining ways to hug, meaning to build a sense of belonging through learning of the strong deep connections with Israel, at the same time that we wrestle with problems. When honestly teaching teens and adults, we build a partnership with Israel through which we can contribute to solutions to the dilemmas and ills that exist today--or to learn how to live with them.
The urgency to change classrooms, leadership forums, and tours to reflect contemporary Israel is increasing. The challenges are many. If it were simply a matter of updating text books, designing more exciting curriculum, or creating more value-based activities, it would be less daunting. Now that teachers are asked to teach that it is possible to love a country with “warts,” many feel inadequate and are reluctant to meet the issues head on. Some are Israelis who now reside in North America. Others are Americans who have never been to Israel. Many are afraid of doing more harm than good.
The consequences of not doing something, however, are also harmful. Israeli tour educator, Judith Wasserman Rosenberg, recalls the remarks of people who have traveled with her. "A school principal on her first adult trip to Israel was upset. She couldn’t believe what she was seeing. ‘My teachers lied to me,’ she said. ‘How can you tell me this is a beautiful country when citizens don’t even clean up after themselves?’ And another person who was part one of my tours could not believe the fact that people in Jerusalem had to lock their doors —that there was crime in Israel.”
Confronting domestic problems in Israel are difficult enough. Now we have to face the daunting task of addressing international issues, specifically the once thought immutable relationship between America and Israel. Ignoring this challenge increases the gap between our students and a country that must remain part of their Jewish identity. Avoiding it will call into question the credibility of Jewish education.
Monday, March 22, 2010
Thursday, February 11, 2010
ISRAEL EDUCATION IN A TIME OF CHANGE
Sholom from Jerusalam. I have had the wonderful opportunity to spend the past month researching initiatives in Israel education and interviewing educational leaders and teachers who are determining future efforts to link Israel and the Diaspora.
There are patterns emerging in notes I’ve gathered that will become part of the book I am writing as a result of the generous fellowship from the Avi Chai Foundation. One fact is certain: the relationship between Israel and Jewish communities outside of Israel is changing.
Many of my past experiences in Israel education involved the Melton Centre for Jewish Education in the Diaspora at the Hebrew University: A curriculum for Jewish schools called "Israel: A Course of Study;" a series of booklets on teaching Israel to various age groups and in a variety of settings called “Israel in Our Lives;" the curriculum, professional education, and Israel seminars of the Florence Melton Adult Mini-School. My information gathering expanded beyond the Melton Centre to the Jewish Agency and to specific programs like Makom and Masa. I learned about the accomplishments of Birthright Israel that, according to the many banners along streets of Jerusalem, has welcomed more than 220,000 young adults to Israel. The tour educators with whom I met talked about sharing the land, their knowledge and Jewish texts with travelers—both pilgrims and skeptics.
Education leaders, academics and educators have know since the late 1970’s following the Lebanese War that what had served as Israel education, the fulfillment of the Zionist dream in all its manifestations was no longer successfully engaging the younger generations. The victories of the War for Independence, the Six Day War and the Yom Kippur War, the successful integration of waves of immigrants, the creation of a prosperous democratic society in the land of the Bible, the successful blending of multiple cultural expressions of Judaism were no longer being celebrated. They had become distant history, and engagement today is rarely based on a romanticized past. More often it evolves from realistic confrontation with challenges of modern life.
For the past three decades, the facts on the ground have not matched the “facts” presented in the great majority classrooms, in leadership forums, and on tours. As a result of my discussions in Israel, however, I believe that is in the process of changing. Strong effort and funding is being applied to develop new language, new philosophy, new strategies and new relationships. Whether it is a continuation--a new dimension--of Zionism or the old Zionism dressed in new clothing or an all-new creation remains to be seen.
Over the next several weeks, I will be blogging about what I have observed and responses of Israelis to one another's efforts. At the same time, I welcome any comments—positive or negative and additional observations from your experiences and reading. Whatever Israel-Diaspora relations and the teaching of Israel are to become, it is based on collaboration, on contributions from all sides of the ocean and from all sides of the arguments surrounding these issues.
There are patterns emerging in notes I’ve gathered that will become part of the book I am writing as a result of the generous fellowship from the Avi Chai Foundation. One fact is certain: the relationship between Israel and Jewish communities outside of Israel is changing.
Many of my past experiences in Israel education involved the Melton Centre for Jewish Education in the Diaspora at the Hebrew University: A curriculum for Jewish schools called "Israel: A Course of Study;" a series of booklets on teaching Israel to various age groups and in a variety of settings called “Israel in Our Lives;" the curriculum, professional education, and Israel seminars of the Florence Melton Adult Mini-School. My information gathering expanded beyond the Melton Centre to the Jewish Agency and to specific programs like Makom and Masa. I learned about the accomplishments of Birthright Israel that, according to the many banners along streets of Jerusalem, has welcomed more than 220,000 young adults to Israel. The tour educators with whom I met talked about sharing the land, their knowledge and Jewish texts with travelers—both pilgrims and skeptics.
Education leaders, academics and educators have know since the late 1970’s following the Lebanese War that what had served as Israel education, the fulfillment of the Zionist dream in all its manifestations was no longer successfully engaging the younger generations. The victories of the War for Independence, the Six Day War and the Yom Kippur War, the successful integration of waves of immigrants, the creation of a prosperous democratic society in the land of the Bible, the successful blending of multiple cultural expressions of Judaism were no longer being celebrated. They had become distant history, and engagement today is rarely based on a romanticized past. More often it evolves from realistic confrontation with challenges of modern life.
For the past three decades, the facts on the ground have not matched the “facts” presented in the great majority classrooms, in leadership forums, and on tours. As a result of my discussions in Israel, however, I believe that is in the process of changing. Strong effort and funding is being applied to develop new language, new philosophy, new strategies and new relationships. Whether it is a continuation--a new dimension--of Zionism or the old Zionism dressed in new clothing or an all-new creation remains to be seen.
Over the next several weeks, I will be blogging about what I have observed and responses of Israelis to one another's efforts. At the same time, I welcome any comments—positive or negative and additional observations from your experiences and reading. Whatever Israel-Diaspora relations and the teaching of Israel are to become, it is based on collaboration, on contributions from all sides of the ocean and from all sides of the arguments surrounding these issues.
Sunday, January 24, 2010
"The Tree of the Field is the Life of Man," Deuteronomy 20:19
In Ein Kerem, Jerusalem, where I am spending this month, there is a Jewish National Fund forest that contains the memorial to President John F. Kennedy. With Tu B’Shvat, the New Year of the Trees, occurring the end of this week, the form of the memorial takes on special meaning.
The monument is a structure resembling the stump of a great tree that has been chopped down. When I look at it, I recall a poem by Edwin Markham memorializing Abraham Lincoln.
And when he fell in the whirlwind, he went down
As when a lordly cedar, green with boughs
Goes down with a great shout upon the hills
And leaves a lonesome place against the sky.
The identification of an individual with a tree is not uncommon. A tree stands upright, dignified and majestic. Like an individual, it experiences birth and death, reproduces itself, needs nutrients and water. It grows continually, produces flowers and fruit, and can regenerate itself. It protects and nurtures other life, and is capable of adapting to most environments in the world.
The comparison is also part of Jewish tradition. In a world of deserts and barren expanses, trees became associated with water, with prime life forces. An often quoted passage in The Book of Psalms reads, “The righteous shall flourish like a palm tree and grow mighty like a cedar of Lebanon.”
The strength of humanity is reflected in a passage in Jeremiah.
And he shall be as a tree planted by the waters and that spreads out
its roots by the river, and shall not perceive when heat cometh; but his
leaf shall be green, and shall not be troubled in the year of drought; neither shall he cease from yielding fruit.
In Pirke Avot, Sayings of the Fathers, a person who both possesses wisdom and performs mitzvot is contrasted with a person whose wisdom is exceeded by his deeds. The latter is compared to “a tree whose branches are many but whose roots are few and the wind comes and plucks it up and overturns it.”
Another meaningful image is found in Isaiah, who wrote, “As the days of the tree shall be the days of my people.” Midrash comments that he was referring to the sycamore, a long-lived tree possessing a unique power to regenerate itself. Even after it is chopped down and covered with sand, it will begin to grow again.
The image of a tree inspired the life of the individual Jew throughout history and many times offered hope for the entire Jewish people.
Hag Sameach from Israel!!
The monument is a structure resembling the stump of a great tree that has been chopped down. When I look at it, I recall a poem by Edwin Markham memorializing Abraham Lincoln.
And when he fell in the whirlwind, he went down
As when a lordly cedar, green with boughs
Goes down with a great shout upon the hills
And leaves a lonesome place against the sky.
The identification of an individual with a tree is not uncommon. A tree stands upright, dignified and majestic. Like an individual, it experiences birth and death, reproduces itself, needs nutrients and water. It grows continually, produces flowers and fruit, and can regenerate itself. It protects and nurtures other life, and is capable of adapting to most environments in the world.
The comparison is also part of Jewish tradition. In a world of deserts and barren expanses, trees became associated with water, with prime life forces. An often quoted passage in The Book of Psalms reads, “The righteous shall flourish like a palm tree and grow mighty like a cedar of Lebanon.”
The strength of humanity is reflected in a passage in Jeremiah.
And he shall be as a tree planted by the waters and that spreads out
its roots by the river, and shall not perceive when heat cometh; but his
leaf shall be green, and shall not be troubled in the year of drought; neither shall he cease from yielding fruit.
In Pirke Avot, Sayings of the Fathers, a person who both possesses wisdom and performs mitzvot is contrasted with a person whose wisdom is exceeded by his deeds. The latter is compared to “a tree whose branches are many but whose roots are few and the wind comes and plucks it up and overturns it.”
Another meaningful image is found in Isaiah, who wrote, “As the days of the tree shall be the days of my people.” Midrash comments that he was referring to the sycamore, a long-lived tree possessing a unique power to regenerate itself. Even after it is chopped down and covered with sand, it will begin to grow again.
The image of a tree inspired the life of the individual Jew throughout history and many times offered hope for the entire Jewish people.
Hag Sameach from Israel!!
Tuesday, December 29, 2009
MOST I LEARN FROM MY STUDENTS
Babylonian Talmud Ta’anit: Much I learn from my teachers; more from my colleagues; but most from my students.
Entering a Florence Melton Adult Mini-School classroom on a bright snowy day in Chicago, I hear the hum and chatter of eager students greeting each other and catching up on the events of the week. As they brush off the snow, pour themselves a cup of coffee, and take their accustomed seats around the table, they never fail to warm my heart. There are young mothers who request to keep their cell phones on just in case they are needed back home, and recent empty nesters who fondly call themselves “the post carpool generation,” and senior citizens who forget their infirmities while they study.
I never take for granted the wonderful diversity of students before me, all of them sharing a love for Jewish text and a sense of wonder at the way it touches their lives. They represent all ages; they come from all parts of the world; they are at different stages of their Jewish journey.
I am in awe of the representation of life before me, and I am challenged to teach in a way that will meet their unique needs. From them, I have learned that there are common experiences and desires on which I can build and that many of these are a result of living in North America in the 21st century. Judaism is a choice for them—even those coming from a traditional background. How do I help them make informed choices? How do I present Judaism in the best possible light-- including its encouragement of doubt, debate and disagreement?
I am challenged, and yet I have the utmost confidence that I am only a transmitter of an irresistible truth that makes our brief time in this world more meaningful, more worth living. It is a truth that transcends time and space and extends our existence beyond what we know. This also I have learned from my students.
Entering a Florence Melton Adult Mini-School classroom on a bright snowy day in Chicago, I hear the hum and chatter of eager students greeting each other and catching up on the events of the week. As they brush off the snow, pour themselves a cup of coffee, and take their accustomed seats around the table, they never fail to warm my heart. There are young mothers who request to keep their cell phones on just in case they are needed back home, and recent empty nesters who fondly call themselves “the post carpool generation,” and senior citizens who forget their infirmities while they study.
I never take for granted the wonderful diversity of students before me, all of them sharing a love for Jewish text and a sense of wonder at the way it touches their lives. They represent all ages; they come from all parts of the world; they are at different stages of their Jewish journey.
I am in awe of the representation of life before me, and I am challenged to teach in a way that will meet their unique needs. From them, I have learned that there are common experiences and desires on which I can build and that many of these are a result of living in North America in the 21st century. Judaism is a choice for them—even those coming from a traditional background. How do I help them make informed choices? How do I present Judaism in the best possible light-- including its encouragement of doubt, debate and disagreement?
I am challenged, and yet I have the utmost confidence that I am only a transmitter of an irresistible truth that makes our brief time in this world more meaningful, more worth living. It is a truth that transcends time and space and extends our existence beyond what we know. This also I have learned from my students.
Sunday, December 6, 2009
WHY HANUKKAH? AND HOW!
While speaking to a group of community leaders, I used a metaphor I had relied on in several other occasions. I talked about a sacred task that Jews perform daily. Each person provides a link between the past and the future in our chain of tradition. I used the word “shalshelet,” which means “chain” and described the chain extending back to Sinai.
This obviously troubled one young woman, who said, “I am the first person in my family in this chain. I converted to Judaism. I am just a charm on the bracelet.”
What followed was an intense discussion about all of us standing at Sinai, about the privileges and pleasures of Jewish life and our responsibility for the next generation regardless of when we became part of the chain. One of the other participants said, “I just decided to do something about being Jewish. My parents in the Soviet Union didn’t teach me anything."
I learned a lesson from this experience. We are living in a time when many non-Orthodox Jews are “Jews by choice--” deciding for themselves what kind of Jews they want to be and how to connect with the Jewish community. Once making that choice, they link themselves with all that has happened to Jews living before them, with what is happening to Jews today, and with all that will happen in the future.
Each of us inherits the richness of the experiences and learning of past generations in our own way. Some have precious family memories on which to build, some acquire the memories of am Yisrael, the people of Israel, through learning, some begin by experiencing Judaism through art, music or Birthright Israel. And all of us who identify as Jews will, at some moment in our adult journey, be in a position to pass Judaism on to others--children, students, friends, colleagues.
This past Shabbat my rabbi delivered a beautiful sermon on why we light Hanukkah candles. After talking about the historical victory of the Maccabees and the Talmudic version of celebrating the rededication of the Temple and the miracle of the oil that lasted eight days, he spoke of the joy and responsibility of taking our memories--what we learned from our parents and grandparents and passing them on to the next generation. He quoted Deuteronomy 32,7: “Remember the days of old, Consider the years of ages past; Ask your father, he will inform you, Your elders, they will tell you.”
And I said a quiet prayer-—that when elders and fathers, do not tell us these things, those who choose to live as Jews, to claim the riches of past generations, have the determination, the support, and the resources to do so. That, in turn, will strengthen the next generation.
This obviously troubled one young woman, who said, “I am the first person in my family in this chain. I converted to Judaism. I am just a charm on the bracelet.”
What followed was an intense discussion about all of us standing at Sinai, about the privileges and pleasures of Jewish life and our responsibility for the next generation regardless of when we became part of the chain. One of the other participants said, “I just decided to do something about being Jewish. My parents in the Soviet Union didn’t teach me anything."
I learned a lesson from this experience. We are living in a time when many non-Orthodox Jews are “Jews by choice--” deciding for themselves what kind of Jews they want to be and how to connect with the Jewish community. Once making that choice, they link themselves with all that has happened to Jews living before them, with what is happening to Jews today, and with all that will happen in the future.
Each of us inherits the richness of the experiences and learning of past generations in our own way. Some have precious family memories on which to build, some acquire the memories of am Yisrael, the people of Israel, through learning, some begin by experiencing Judaism through art, music or Birthright Israel. And all of us who identify as Jews will, at some moment in our adult journey, be in a position to pass Judaism on to others--children, students, friends, colleagues.
This past Shabbat my rabbi delivered a beautiful sermon on why we light Hanukkah candles. After talking about the historical victory of the Maccabees and the Talmudic version of celebrating the rededication of the Temple and the miracle of the oil that lasted eight days, he spoke of the joy and responsibility of taking our memories--what we learned from our parents and grandparents and passing them on to the next generation. He quoted Deuteronomy 32,7: “Remember the days of old, Consider the years of ages past; Ask your father, he will inform you, Your elders, they will tell you.”
And I said a quiet prayer-—that when elders and fathers, do not tell us these things, those who choose to live as Jews, to claim the riches of past generations, have the determination, the support, and the resources to do so. That, in turn, will strengthen the next generation.
Thursday, December 3, 2009
MASTERING THE ART OF MIDRASH: INQUIRING
Midrash unstructured is a difficult. In truth, the group was losing heart a little and so was I. We had lost the deeply inspiring moments that just seemed to rise up out of the Torah text. We would focus on a word, think about where else it appeared, try to interpret what the character might be doing or even the HOBBH (have you ever tried to type “Holy One Blessed be He over and over again? I should add that I never copy pages from a book when I teach. I always type or cut and paste selections so I can compose the class a bit musically.) ‘S motivations and voila, we would find inspiration to carry us through the week.
I had to admit to myself that I did not like the reflective practice that I saw in the mirror and needed to make a change pronto. Not sure how I landed on this but probably has something to do with my deeply felt belief that my students (all of them, everywhere) are sacred texts and that we would get to the written text if we started with them once again. This is a bit of a polarity with my desire to let the classical text itself be more of a presence, but I had to try this.
The following week was Chaye Sarah, my Bat Mitzvah parsha. I began class with a simple question: what is the value of a life? This drew some silence and then some beautiful responses. A lie is valued by what you accomplish, not what you earn, by the family you create, how you reach out to others. They led right to Rashi: Why does this pasuk repeat the word shanah over and over again? To indicate that Sarah’s life is sequenced “each is interpreted individually…and all were equal in goodness.” Each person was able to describe the sequences of their lives: when they lived in their parents, homes, marriage, before and after children, before and after the loss of parents. There was something in the moment that I can only call a merging of these women’s’ stories and Sarah’s story, a jumping into the looking glass of the Biblical narrative.
From there we could go on to the Midrashim through the prism of the question. What else does this parsha have to say about the value of life? The analysis of the Midrashim was focused and the learning rich.
So now, each week, I have to inquire of the text and find the profound questions to frame our study, there is always more than one. Sometimes I consult with Aviva and the Sfat Emet; sometimes the question comes from inside me. Then I can cut, paste, hone, shape and craft the lesson. And is that not what Midrash is in essence supposed to be?
Monday, November 30, 2009
MASTERING THE ART OF MIDRASH:LES POISSONS ET MOI
It took about ten minutes into the first piska in Bereshit Rabbah for the class to figure out that they were in a new country. Where was Job and what did he have to do with Bereshit?
“Welcome to the world of Midrash” was their answer. "Midrash assumes that the entire Tanach is a seamless text, where one text is always speaking to another. The art of Midrash and enjoyment of it as a style of literature is flying out to the place where the author begins and slowly closing in on a line from your original text. How you get there--the textual and aesthetic moves--makes an interpretation into an art form. “
J wanted to know if Midrash is commentary. “Yes and no” seemed appropriate. Sometimes a comment is just an explanation and sometimes it is midrashic. Midrash wants to move you, make a point and lift you up. Midrash can get very emotional which I think is why so many people think of it as a polemic against other competing religions. More on this to come, I am sure.
“Boy we sure are going to learn a lot about other books in the Bible!” someone said. At the very least we are going to spend a lot of time flipping pages around.
Then I had a funny inspiration. Some time ago I had a student who always found the place in Psalms or the Prophets in a split second. Her secret weapon? Tabs for each book of the Bible which she had picked up in a Christian book store.
I decided my students deserved a present, since they had given me a beautiful wall hanging for my Sukkah. Surfing around on internet, I googled Bible tabs. Who knew there were so many choices? Gold foil, pink, lavendar, with fish and without. I ordered a set for everyone. Now I am getting daily emails from Christian Book Source. Kind of interesting to compare their offerings ( no pun—okay yes pun-- intended!).
It was a little shocking to see the tiny crosses under-hatching each tab. They did not appear on the enlarged image. So my students have homework: 1) throw out the tabs they do not need 2)attach the tabs they do need 3) notice the difference in the order of the books 4) take a pen to the crosses. Can’t have my students walking about town with fishy looking Bibles. But they were all so tickled and happy!
“Welcome to the world of Midrash” was their answer. "Midrash assumes that the entire Tanach is a seamless text, where one text is always speaking to another. The art of Midrash and enjoyment of it as a style of literature is flying out to the place where the author begins and slowly closing in on a line from your original text. How you get there--the textual and aesthetic moves--makes an interpretation into an art form. “
J wanted to know if Midrash is commentary. “Yes and no” seemed appropriate. Sometimes a comment is just an explanation and sometimes it is midrashic. Midrash wants to move you, make a point and lift you up. Midrash can get very emotional which I think is why so many people think of it as a polemic against other competing religions. More on this to come, I am sure.
“Boy we sure are going to learn a lot about other books in the Bible!” someone said. At the very least we are going to spend a lot of time flipping pages around.
Then I had a funny inspiration. Some time ago I had a student who always found the place in Psalms or the Prophets in a split second. Her secret weapon? Tabs for each book of the Bible which she had picked up in a Christian book store.
I decided my students deserved a present, since they had given me a beautiful wall hanging for my Sukkah. Surfing around on internet, I googled Bible tabs. Who knew there were so many choices? Gold foil, pink, lavendar, with fish and without. I ordered a set for everyone. Now I am getting daily emails from Christian Book Source. Kind of interesting to compare their offerings ( no pun—okay yes pun-- intended!).
It was a little shocking to see the tiny crosses under-hatching each tab. They did not appear on the enlarged image. So my students have homework: 1) throw out the tabs they do not need 2)attach the tabs they do need 3) notice the difference in the order of the books 4) take a pen to the crosses. Can’t have my students walking about town with fishy looking Bibles. But they were all so tickled and happy!
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