by Rachel Thompson

On Rosh Hashana, we are inscribed in the book of life. On Yom Kippur, the book is sealed. During the time between Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur, we are told to repent for our sins, make amends for our wrongdoings…pound our chests in public and feel hunger.

I always thought that the order seemed wrong. For me, it made more sense to say sorry before moving forward, but what I’ve come to learn is that it’s a cycle.

When I was a kid, I thought that, my avinu malkainu’s wiped the slate clean… absolved me of the sins I committed against my brother, my parents, my friends, myself… and the sins I committed against god… like the sin I committed moments before when I ate an oreo from the synagogue day care center while I was supposed to be fasting, or the sin I commited when I played cards with the kids during the particularly tedious parts of the service. When I’d make it back inside, I’d thump my chest with the best of ‘em – thinking that I was wiping the slate clean

These days, I think a little more critically and a little less literally. I understand now that saying sorry and thumping my chest doesn’t absolve me of my sins, what it does, is mark a point in time when I have acknowledged my mistakes and vow to avoid these same errors in the future.

We’re not a blank slate, we’re constantly evolving beings. We set intentions, we set goals, and when we fall short or take a rocky path, we can always step back, focus our energy on learning from our mistakes and move forward with greater purpose.

On Rosh Hashana, I set some goals for myself. I’ve already run off the path, but that’s ok. On Yom Kippur I will make amends for the mistakes I have made during the last year– and I’m going to keep doing that. This Holy day teaches us that it is never too late to say sorry. Never too late to make a new start.

…

May we learn from our mistakes, May we be empowered to make a fresh start when we need one, and May we all be sealed in the book of life.

Photo by mihoda, licensed under Creative Commons.

We’ve asked Jewish educators and organizations all over North America to add a fifth question to the Seder – one that will inspire us to make Passover meaningful for today’s Jewish world.  Find out more about our 5th Question project.

This 5th Question comes from Next Dor -

Passover, it turns out, is the most celebrated Jewish holiday of the year. More than Shabbat, more than Rosh Hashanah or Yom Kippur. Even ‘high holiday only’ Jews usually make it to a Seder. If Passover, then, is the most important Jewish holiday (by participation), and the Four Questions are the most important parts of the Seder, a fifth question must be taken quite seriously. After all, the Four Questions cut to the heart of the narrative, forcing us to think about our meal as more than just the sum of the foods and people assembled therein. Therefore, I propose a straightforward question, one that it seems is taken for granted by many, but altogether unclear for so many other in our community.

The question is: “Why be Jewish?”

Ok, I know it isn’t in the standard format of ‘why on this night do we do this or do we not do this’, but I think it is probably the most important question in the Jewish world that receives the least amount of attention. Particularly in a time in which so many young adults born to Jewish parents are not identifying with the Jewish community in ways previous generations did, when Antisemitism seems so foreign, and when Israel is so mired in conflict, identifying with and participating in the Jewish community isn’t a given.

I believe that asking this question at the Seder would be quite powerful. Particularly after spending so much of the Seder identifying with our ancestors of old and their struggles, asking and answering the question ‘why’ should we be Jewish today and build the Jewish community in the future would be a strong reaffirmation of our people-hood. It also might give us a chance to really listen to those we consider ‘unaffiliated’ or ‘disengaged’. We might just learn a thing or two and find deeper answers for ourselves as to why we choose, in an age of science, secularism, and sectarianism, to be Jewish.

Next Dor is a platform and program to empower young adults to build Jewish community that is relevant and vibrant. Based out of a renovated house, Next Dor provides the resources and opportunities to bring young adults together in an informal and non-institutional setting.

Photo by Zeevveez, licensed under Creative Commons.

By Barbara Newman

As Purim approaches this year, for some reason, the old TV ad-campaign, “pork, the other white meat” comes to mind. Poor pork, apparently such an underdog to chicken that it needed its own ad-campaign. I know nothing about pork, and yet something about the ad resonates with my thoughts of Purim. In this day and age when so many Jews in America celebrate Halloween, Purim is relegated often to the “other Halloween,” but is that really fair? Should it even be compared to Halloween? Would more Jews celebrate Purim if they knew more about it, and opt out of Halloween entirely? I remember having to convince Jewish friends who loved dressing up for Halloween to come out to a Purim party. Why is Purim such an underdog?

On the surface, Purim and Halloween seem to have a number of similarities – costumes, parties, revelry — but cut deeper into them and you will find many differences.

Halloween (officially All Hallow’s Eve or All Saints’ Eve) is a secular holiday. Much of Halloween’s imagery is evil and scary, with ghosts, ghouls, witches and skulls, and these themes seem to be encouraged. Growing up, I remember hearing about tainted candy and people who would go out on the streets and throw eggs and spray shaving cream all over the neighborhood. Historically, Halloween was a time of year when many pogroms would occur, making it a genuinely scary time to be a Jew.

Purim, on the other hand, is a time to rejoice in the story of individuals overcoming evil. The word “Purim” means “lots” – a reference to Haman casting lots to determine the day he would destroy the Jews, ultimately settling on the 13th of Adar . It is an interesting echo of the Jews history with Halloween, but luckily for the Jews, Purim did not turn out so frightening. Through individual actions, good triumphed over evil, giving us more reasons to celebrate than to fear. Rather than trick-or-treat and take from others, the Purim tradition asks that we give to others, through Mishloach Manot (gifts of food) to our neighbors, and charity to the poor.

Although it is a Jewish holiday, on the surface, Purim can seem fairly secular. The heroism, triumphs and miracles of Purim came about through the actions of people. No reference to G-d is made throughout the Megillah reading and excessive drinking is encouraged (even in Synagogue). But all is not what it seems. Just as we dress up in costume and wonder who is beneath, there is hidden and significant meaning behind the seemingly secular nature of the holiday.

So is Purim really “the other” Halloween? Looking behind the mask of each holiday reveals just how different they truly are. Might Purim need a better marketing campaign so that more people will celebrate? Well that’s a different question.

Photo by Miala, licensed under Creative Commons.

From our “home” to yours, however you celebrate, Shabbat Shalom, Happy Hanukkah
and Happy Holidays!

From,
Rafi, Emily, Richard, Emily, Sarah, and Ruvym

It’s certainly not the most significant holiday in the Jewish calendar, nor does it appear in the Torah or carry with it many mitzvot (commandments). Actually, Hannukah’s apparent lack of importance has an interesting effect on me: it eases much of the tension and guilt that I usually feel as a secular Jew around the holidays. I don’t sign on to all the beliefs and rituals that religious people do and have often felt uncomfortable celebrating Shabbat or other chagim with them. There are just too many rules to be followed and too many ways to break them.

However, my own Hannukah tradition of lighting candles and singing songs doesn’t differ all that much from traditions of more observant Jews. One evening in Israel I saw a religious family lighting their Hannukah candles in the lobby of my hostel. Later that night I saw a secular Jew do the exact same thing in a bar. Both times I found familiarity and joy in the ritual and songs, and more than that, I appreciated the diversity of people and places reflected in Hannukah.

Hannukah is one of the few weeks of the Jewish calendar when things feel relatively simple for me; it is a respite from the discomfort and uncertainty that come with many other holidays. Having learned them as a kid, I understand my Hannukah traditions and can easily share them with others. More importantly, they come with many joyful memories for me. So, even though Hannukah is not a very important part of the Jewish calendar, it is one of the most special parts of my Jewish year.

Photo by Lackac, licensed under Creative Commons.

1. The Leevees – “How Do You Spell Channukkahh?”

2. Nefesh B’Nefesh – Hanukkah Flash Mob

3. Max DeArmon and Regime Change Music – “Light ‘Em Up”

4. Dan Saks – “Ocho Kandelikas”

5. Eric Schwartz – “Honika Electronica”

Photo by Ferrari + caballos + fuerza = cerebro, licensed under Creative Commons.

…

It may seem strange to have the first issue of the new year focus on death and tragedy. The beginning of a new year is typically a time for excitement and enthusiasm, an opportunity to create new beginnings and improve ourselves through resolutions. But the American New Year, or in general, the secular observance of the new year in the Gregorian calendar, is a moment in time, a clock striking midnight. In that second, one year is completely gone and a new one is suddenly upon us. This concept, however, sits in stark contrast to our observance of the Jewish New Year – a period of 10 days between Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur that serves as a time to embark on a process of repentance, reflection, and renewal.

While it is nice to imagine that a singular instance can bring about all the change that hope for, the reality – and particularly the Jewish reality – is often not so simple. While this is the perfect time to start over or try again, it is also a time to ponder what we have lost and learned, and to use the lessons from our lives to help us become better people for the coming year.

We have all experienced loss. Many of us have lost grandparents, parents, or friends. As Jews we are also affected by the vastness of our collective historical death and tragedy, underlined most violently by the Holocaust. Just as the Jewish New Year is a 10-day stretch that takes us from one of the most joyous Jewish holidays (Rosh Hashanah) through to the most somber (Yom Kippur), grieving, healing from that grief, and growing from it, is all part of a very similar process, one that isn’t an instantaneous transformation, but is rather one that takes time.

In this issue, we explore death and tragedy as a way of reminding ourselves that, as Jews, we have a responsibility to remember those who have come before, even as we celebrate the possibilities inherent in the concept of a new year. We’ll look at how death has affected some us, maybe changed us, or in certain cases, not affected us at all. Although this is an incredibly vast topic, we hope these stories will shed light on how we experience death and tragedy through a Jewish lens.

- Alef

Photo by jpc101 licensed under Creative Commons.
…

Death and Tragedy Posts:
Grave Recollection
Clear
Inglourious Basterds
To Mom With Love
Sitting Shiva in the Land of Oz
My Jewish Jeanne
January 14

I’ve been called for jury duty. Not only that, I’ve been chosen to actually serve on a jury. (Pause for reaction. Don’t worry, I’ll ask you about it later.) Here it is, the week of Rosh Ha’shanah, I’m still getting over the summer, have a group of new Birthright Israel NEXT Fellows to break in, and now, I have jury duty. I’m actually quite happy I was picked for a jury, particularly right around now. The High Holiday service is filled with courtroom references, and so it’s a great place to be at this time of year.

When I mentioned that I had jury duty, what was your reaction? Did you roll your eyes? A lot of people do. The reactions that I’ve gotten have ranged from “Oh man,” to “that sucks, dude.” The most common question that I’ve been asked is, “couldn’t you get out of it?” And this concerns me. It also seems to me that people have no idea what jury duty entails. Most people that I speak to equate jury duty with siting in the jury selection room all day and trying to avoid being assigned a case. The day is considered long, boring, a waste of time and above all, a terrible inconvenience. I think people would feel differently if they actually served on a jury.

Trial by jury is guaranteed by the sixth amendment to the US Constitution, sometimes referred to as The Bill of Rights. It reads as follows:

“In all criminal prosecutions, the accused shall enjoy the right to a speedy and public trial, by an impartial jury of the State and district where in the crime shall have been committed, which district shall have been previously ascertained by law, and to be informed of the nature and cause of the accusation; to be confronted with the witnesses against him; to have compulsory process for obtaining witnesses in his favor, and to have the Assistance of Counsel for his defence.”

The sixth amendment also promises a speedy public trial, referring to the length of time one has to wait until their case is heard.

When our jury was selected, the court clerk commended us for being electing to serve. That day, the court needed juries for 11 major felony trials including 7 murders. Approximately 300 people need to be interviewed to find 14 people to sit on one of these cases. But due to the fiscal crisis here in Philadelphia, the court can only call in about 400 people per day. (This same fiscal crisis has let to the closing of recreation centers, layoffs for police and firemen and on October 4, 2009 the Philadelphia Public Library system will be entirely shut down.) Because people find reasons to excuse themselves, defendants are stuck in jail awaiting their trial. This sparsity of jurors in Philadelphia is of particular concern to me. I ride my bicycle past the National Park with Independence Hall on one side and the National Constitution Center on the other. This is literally the place where the American idea of a jury was conceived, written and signed into the Bill of Rights in 1791. While biking up Market Street to City Hall for court, I glance up at the ancient clock tower to make sure I’m on time. It’s like a participatory field trip to learn about the legal system and its history.

During the jury selection process, you are asked a number of questions to determine your fitness to be a juror. Before that, you are asked to swear or affirm that you’re telling the truth. The word “affirm” is there for people whose religion prohibits them from swearing. (Ask your local rabbi about “swearing vs. affirming” before Kol Nidre.) If we expect those around us to tell the truth then shouldn’t we tell the truth during jury selection, as well? Why does it seem that people don’t mind lying in that context? If you are selected for a panel of eligible jurors, you then proceed to voir dire, where you are asked further questions about your possible biases which may influence your impartiality. The term voir dire has roots in both Latin and Old French, and refers to telling the truth.

I work in the field of Jewish Communal Service. Most of the people I interact with are in the same business. They work in organizations that promote Jewish Learning and Values. Among those values, Social Justice is high on the list. I’ve seen a lot of Social Justice programming over the past few years. “Justice, justice you shall pursue,” the famous quote from Deuteronomy is often featured in a text study where participants reflect on how their day of feeding the homeless is the embodiment of Jewish ethics and values. But when it comes to jury duty, where a person is can play an important role in the application of justice, my peers, colleagues and neighbors all decide to opt out.

When I press people about their negative reaction to jury duty, they point out the inconvenience factor. “It takes you away from your life for a day, or a week or *gasp* a week and a half.” There is never going to be a convenient time to serve on a jury, but occasionally you are asked to fulfill your civic duty. As a dual citizen of Israel and the United States, I have a unique perspective on this. In Israel, “civic duty” means serving in the army for two or three years. After release from the IDF, Israelis must do reserve duty, or miluim, until they age out at around 40. Miluim usually takes people away from their lives for anywhere from 2 weeks to a month at a time. It’s never a convenient time, and some people try to get out of it, but for the most part, people just sigh and go. And then I look around here in America, and see people who don’t want to exercise the privilege of serving on jury.

One of my fellow jurors said that her mother feared she would be killed for sitting in a jury. This is the irrational fear that a murder defendant, or the defendant’s friends and family will track down the jurors, and kill them, one by one. The mother calmed down when she heard that the case was civil and not criminal. But still: The immediate reaction to jury duty was fear of death! Another of my fellow jurors voiced some concern about her employer. The court clerk assured the juror that there’s nothing to worry about. You can’t lose your job for jury duty, it’s illegal. The clerk then told a story about an incident where an employer insisted that his employee report to work instead of court. The judge had the sheriff bring the employer to the courtroom where he was forced to watch the whole two week trial with the sheriff looking over his shoulder. And then I think about employers in the field of Jewish Communal work. I can’t imagine any of them would prevent an employee from serving on a jury. I mean, what’s the worst thing that could happen? Will Judaism cease to be because “Yankel” had jury duty? I think not. And by the way, I’m managing the workload just fine. With my blackberry at my hip, I can keep up with work via email, text message, phone call, facebook and twitter.

Each of you has the right to a trial by a jury of your peers. My peers are all very smart people. Smart enough to figure out a way to avoid jury duty. But those are precisely the people who should serve on juries; people who can listen to evidence and judge facts intelligently. At a Jewish event, I met another person who served on a jury recently. He told me about his case, where he was an alternate and thus excluded from the final deliberation. He was relieved to be excluded, because the jury’s verdict of life in prison didn’t sound like the right decision to him.

With the High Holidays coming up fast, a lot of my peers are spending this time to think about what they’ve done over the past year, and what they’ll be doing to improve in the future. It’s almost like we’re putting ourselves on trial, acting as our own jurors. Rosh Ha’shanah and Yom Kippur don’t necessarily have to be about marathon sessions at synagoge, or fasting for a day. Instead, what if they were just a way of showing up for jury duty? You already know the facts of your own case, and now you get the chance to do something about it. The letter’s already in the mail, it’s our turn to sit in the box. We’re all being called for jury duty, and instead of rolling our eyes or getting out of it, let’s take advantage of this opportunity to hear the evidence, and decide for ourselves how we’d like the court to rule.  (Pause for reaction.)

-Adam

How did we not celebrate this for 1900 years?

Our resident Israeli (i.e. smooth, suave), Yishai, shares some tips on how to woo your “mate.”

Israeli Slang 101 – “Shalom, Mahmi” from Birthright Israel NEXT on Vimeo.