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Posts Tagged ‘ Jewish ’

A Lament for My People’s PR Posted on Dec 17th, 2010 by

 

Recently I have been fortunate enough to have been given an incredible platform that enables me to share my ideas about Jewish matters to a significantly bigger audience than at any time since I began teaching.  Though I didn’t know all that much about it before, the Huffington Post is an extremely sophisticated blog that posts scores of blogs daily on a large variety of subjects.  It has a larger readership than the NY Times and the Wall St Journal and as such really represents the word on “the street”.  Sadly, I have been a bit taken aback at what some folks out there have to say about my religion (and religion in general).  Each article has a “comments” section that allows readers to freely express their thoughts on what you have written and though I have always abstractly known that there was a substantial antipathy to Judaism, few people have been willing to “say it to my face” until now.

The experience of having something you deeply care about denigrated is always a painful thing.  Try as you may, it’s sometimes close to impossible to open people up to something  they have decided (or assumed) to be a certain way.  In college, we had weekly live music at a campus coffee house…usually rock or folk.  Being the Jazz snob that I was, I decided to get my teacher’s quartet to come one week and show people what music really was.  I had envisioned a rapt audience quietly twisting their necks in that “yes and no” fashion common to Jazz fans.  Instead, 45 seconds into the performance, one of the “jockey” types of guys standing there loudly declared “jazz sucks!” and everybody kept talking over the music.  I was stunned.  How could they all not see the inherent beauty in this music-it’s complexity, the agility of the players and the originality of the composition?  It was but one of very many experiences that showed me that some of the most valuable ideas and experiences in life are routinely ignored, opposed or ridiculed as a matter of course.

It’s not just Jazz of course;  great symphonies, years in the making, can elicit yawns, strolls though the world’s great art galleries might hold someone’s attention for half an hour and exposure to classical philosophy could easily be met with a “bor-ing”!  Though I don’t really like it, I can deal with indifference or dislike of cultural matters.  I have a harder time when it comes to Judaism-the injustice strikes me as just too great.  Here you have a spiritual/cultural tradition that has obviously transformed the world for the better-providing Western Culture with most of its concept of morality and proper conduct in the world, promoting the value and rights of the weak and helpless, possessing an astounding record and system of charity, education and personal growth-only to be dismissed as “bunk”, “patriarchal”, “racist”, “backwards” “barbaric” and “outdated” by people who have little to no real knowledge of the subject matter.

One of the big issues, I realized, is that many folks out there have had some exposure to our Torah-what they know as “the Bible”.  This exposure allows them to read it in the most dermal way and then form independent conclusions about what they think it means.  Of course we live in a free society and they are perfectly at liberty to do that.  The issue is that the Torah doesn’t work like that and anyone who takes that approach is bound to miscomprehended what has been written.

Today is a fast day called Asara B’Teves (the 10th of the month of Teves) and one of the things we are mourning over is the translation of the Torah into Greek.  2200 years ago, Ptolemy forced 70 rabbis (at knife point) to translate the text of the Torah.  The Talmud recounts that the sages agonized over this task, not least of which because they knew the text-with all of its subtlety, nuance and layered meaning-would be misunderstood.  They did the best they could, but the deed was done and now the world was free to mistranslate, misinterpret and misapprehend.  They managed to get the text, but not its methodology.  Since then other religions have co-opted and appended the entire text to their own.  Many have read it and many have thereby drawn the wrong conclusions about it.  For instance, the text clearly says “an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth.”  Doesn’t that indeed sound like some brutal medieval doctrine?  Well…what would a Jewish court do if an eyeless man went around poking out other people’s eyes?  Could he just do so with impunity?  Obviously that wouldn’t work and as we know from the Talmud (the key to understanding the text of the Torah), it has always meant a monetary payment and the text only means to imply that the perpetrator deserves to loose an eye, but he won’t.

There are countless example along these lines.  I feel fortunate to have made it my life’s work to reframe these and other misconceptions about Israel, Judaism and the Jewish people.  It’s our organizational goal to teach these ideas properly and then empower others to share the message as well.  It’s a painfully slow process, but it’s working.  I feel that our stage is beginning to expand and that our message will soon resonate in many diverse and exciting new forums in the coming months and years.

“First they ignore you, then they ridicule you, then they fight you, then you win.” 

Gandhi

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The Secret Language of Eilat Anschel’s Grandparents: Yiddish and the Holocaust Posted on Jul 7th, 2010 by

Saba Alex's father, Sinai Zilber, who died of typhus when my Saba Alex was 3.

In 2003, my grandfather, Saba Alex, had lymphoma, and he knew it would kill him.

“Melody,” he told me, in his Polish-accented Hebrew, “I don’t know where I’m going when I die.  I don’t believe in G-d since the Holocaust.”

He was blond with blue eyes from Poland.  He had told us all about his long journey from Lodz to Siberia, and finally to Israel.

“I was in a breadline with a communist friend.  Not Jewish,” he said.  “We were waiting for hours.  Then he called over a Nazi guard and told him I was Jewish.  He blew my cover.  I ran home and told my mom and younger brother I was leaving.”

He was 19 when he traveled on foot to Russia from Poland.  He slept in barns, witnessed a man killing his own wife and son in order to feed himself, was saved from gun-wielding Russians by a dog, narrowly missed death by malaria by randomly running into an old friend who got him a job at a butter factory, and took much-needed R&R from cutting trees in Siberia’s snows by developing frostbite in one toe and getting kitchen duty instead, where he was able to live off of potato peals.  He finally joined the Red Army to fulfill the one purpose that was keeping him alive: to see Hitler defeated.

“Saba, you’re 83 years old, and you have cancer,” I pleaded with him. By all logic, you shouldn’t be here, and I shouldn’t be here.  You should have died long ago.  That’s why I believe in G-d.”

He had moved to Israel after trying to return to Poland and finding his former neighbors in his old home, acting as if he had never lived there.  He was Jewish by default, not by choice.

But my Saba was raised a Hassidic Jew.  He wore sidecurls and a yarmulke and studied the Torah from the young age of three.  What happened?

It was Hitler.  He didn’t succeed in killing my grandfather’s body.  But he had killed his soul, his desire to be Jewish, to be a light unto the nations, to be different, and to be proud.

I decided then and there that I had to be more Jewish.  I couldn’t let Hitler win.

What does being Jewish mean?  We learn that our ancestors, the Jewish slaves in Egypt, kept three things that set them apart: their names, their clothing, and their language.  And because they kept these three things, they merited to be saved from slavery by Gd himself.

So I began focusing on the inner permanence of who I was, rather than my outer youth that couldn’t be trusted to stick around.  I spent my Monday nights at Aish learning to pray rather than at Sephora trying on lipgloss.

Then I chose myself a Hebrew name.  I was told that once you use your Hebrew name, a new part of your soul is revealed, and new aspects of your destiny will realize themselves.  Once I changed my name I started on a path of personal transformation (also thanks to Tzipora Harris’s Clarity class) that made me ready to finally meet and marry my husband.

There is still a part of being Jewish that I have not fully come into, and that is language.  In Israel my dormant Hebrew was revived and became fluent again.  But, as with everything in Judaism, and being Jewish in general, a paradox exists.  There is this modern Hebrew based on biblical Hebrew, that is considered to be the holy tongue, the pure language from which Gd created the world.  It is a root language that has sprouted into all other languages.

And then there is its complement, Yiddish.  A sprawling, hodgepodge language with no fixed grammar and a biting, sarcastic humor, it expresses the soul in all its yearnings, in all its trials and errors.  It is made up primarily of German, which is itself an amalgam of nine other languages, and Hebrew, Aramaic, and Slavic languages.  I can understand it, but I cannot speak it, because I just wouldn’t know where to begin.  My guess is, if it came out wrong, it would be right, though anyone who overhears might correct me because it’s not the Yiddish they grew up with.  It is a language we all make our own.

So I’m psyched that Yiddish is back, and that I can take classes in it at Aish on Monday nights.  Click here to register:  http://www.aishcenter.com/yiddish
I’ll probably need beginner’s level, but there’s intermediate as well.

Do you have a relative with a holocaust story?  What is it?  How does it connect you to your Yiddishkeit (that’s Yiddish for Jewishness)?  Post it here in the comments below.

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