The Name of My Game

 June 6, 2013  / 28 Sivan,  5773

 Welcome to my new weekly piece, part of an ongoing effort to connect with the Rodef Shalom community outside the lines of formal parsha study!

You may wonder how I devised the name for this endeavor.  From quite some time, I have been ruminating about my place on the ideological spectrum which I have, for so long, side-stepped or dismissed as being irrelevant to working with people in both congregational and community settings.  These times call for religious leadership to speak out often on the issues that are dear to them, insofar as they have "solid ground" upon which to stand from within their respective faith traditions. 

Indeed, I love operating within the parameters of Jewish Tradition, in the ways of studying classical texts and practicing the mitzvot; this is where I feel most at home, as a mainstay of behavior and also where I can take refuge in times of crisis.  There is something that is incredibly re-assuring about residing within a religious culture that connects me with God as well as with generations past and present. 

It is that "comfort space" with the Tradition which enables me to probe the issues of our day - demographic issues, social issues, survival issues - and to imagine how we might take some radical steps to achieve good outcomes.  Such reforms are necessary from time to time, in order to keep the Tradition relevant to those among us who possess other options for their spiritual paths in life.  Some of these radical tendencies are attitudinal, as opposed to tangible, but they give rise to certain, provocative deeds or appearances that indeed push the envelope of practical norms.

This is best illustrated through the example of how we navigate when two people are called to the Torah in our congregation, for which we have a fairly unique practice (revealed to many of our congregants over the years when they have celebrated the bar or bat mitzvah of a child).  While the traditional norm is for one person to occupy his/her own Aliyah, there is no serious infringement upon the Tradition until two (or more) people begin to sing together and it becomes impossible to distinguish between their voices.  While collective singing is actually something that we encourage and do well, and has manifold benefits in a spiritual sense, it is problematic for the witnesses to a blessing; the pronouncement of "Amen" at the end of a b'racha presumes that the listener has a clear idea of whose blessing is being affirmed.  Hence I introduced the expectation that each partner to an Aliyah recite half of the ritual in solo fashion, so that all may know to whom they are answering "Amen."  Although this may not appear to you as radical, and in fact some within our community view it as being too traditionalist, this outcome has acknowledged a living tension between our sacred heritage and the modern desirability to be more inclusive or, shall we say, to arrive at fitting more people into a given day's set of ritual honors.

I look forward to expanding and applying my approach in future weeks, and to infusing some incisive, if not provocative, reflections on modern Jewish existence.  I am always receptive to your feedback and indeed encourage your responses.