Dear Friends and Readers,
I wish each of you a Gemar Hatimah Tovah (to be sealed in the Book of Life). I hope you have a chance to glance at the text for the Feast before the Yom Kippur Fast known traditionally as the "Se'udat Hamafseket". For me this is the highlight of everything Panim is doing these High Holidays. I have experienced many powerful moments around the table with family and friends. I love the joyful spirit of a Shabbat table, the pageantry of a Passover table, the sense of newness of a Rosh Hashannah table, the vulnerability of a feast in the Sukkah, the sense of nature's power at a Tu Bishvat seder, and the outrageous playfulness of a Purim feast. But the feast before Yom Kippur, like Yom Kippur itself is on another level entirely.
Several stories in the Talmud dwell on this meal, telling stories of the sages returning from the academy to their families. In typical fashion, the Talmud reveals the truth of these encounters. They are not all lovely and filled with accounts of reconciliation or repentance. However, clearly the ancients regarded this meal as a time for people to gather and make one last great push to repair relationships and to bring about reconciliation. It was in essence a Teshuvah feast. This tradition is deeply inspiring to me. It is yet another example of how Jews have made feasts times of opportunity and spiritual power. It reveals a religion in which relationship is so important, so concrete, and so necessary of our personal attention regardless of who we are and where we are in our lives. Judaism is not an abstract religion; it is a religion which places relationship in the center: our relationship with family, with nature, with God.
Before I spend the day in personal communication with God, I prepare for it with personal and attentive conversation with family and friends around a table. The urgency of the meal is in the word 'mafseket 'meaning ending or interruption. This meal ends the time for repairing relationships with humans and transitions us to repairing our relationship with God. The link is illustrative. You first have to attend to humans and then attend to God. Not the other way around.
Shannah Tovah,
Rabbi Dov Gartenberg
Friday, September 29, 2006
Overcoming a Mitzvah Learned by RoteObservations on Spiritual Renewal Before Yom Kippur, 2006
Overcoming a Mitzvah Learned by Rote Observations
on Spiritual Renewal Before Yom Kippur, 2006
Rabbi Dov Gartenberg
On Yom Kippur, we read in the morning the stirring passage from the prophet Isaiah from chapter 58. The prophet questions the religious piety of Israel who engaged in a fast. "To be sure, they seek Me daily, eager to learn My ways... They are eager for the nearness of God: Why, when we fasted, did You not see? When we starved our bodies, did You pay no heed." The prophet dismisses their so called piety and points out what is missing in their religious priorities: "Because you fast in strife and contention and you strike with a wicked fist...Is such the fast I desire?"
Isaiah, the biblical prophet, exposes disordered and misplaced spiritualityof people who appear to be pious. In chapter 29 Isaiah (who according to biblical critics is a different prophet than the one in 58) describes a people who have lost sense of the purpose of prayer. 'Because the people has approached Me with its mouth and honored Me with its lips, But has kept its heart far from Me, and its worship of Me has been a commandment of men, learned by rote.' Isaiah describes people who follow God's law with thought or intention-"mitzvat anashim melumadah."
This pointed complaint about habituated religious ritual is the precedent of an oft repeated criticism within Judaism and a familiar attack on Judaism from without including the passages from Paul of Tarshes polemics of the Pharisees in the New Testament. But it is fair to say that Isaiah's concern is a deeply Jewish time honored concern, one that is found across the generations from Maimonides in 12th century Egypt to the Hasidim in 18th century Russia.
My vision of Panim Hadashot is deeply indebted to Isaiah's concern. As an observant person, I know how easily mitzvot and practice can become habituated or taken over by conventional considerations.
There is a time in our lives when we need to renew, reinvigorate, reorient what is familiar. This is true of spiritual life as in all other areas of life. I believe that it is critical in a serious spiritual life to be ready at times to change perspective, to move out of one's customary seat, to change the seder of things. Our eyes would open up to things we could not see or did not sense. We may return to the original place we started but we will see things differently.
This need for "refreshing one's perspective" is particularly critical concerning the mitzvah of fixed communal prayer. Contemporary communal prayer in all the denominations is governed by conventions of decorum, music, and contemporary culture, which often obscure the deeper meaning, and experience of prayer.
Most modern Jewish institutions from synagogues, schools, and camps attempt to teach the forms of prayer, but often neglect how a worshipper accesses the inner life. Another problem is that prayer is usually taught in connection to life cycle events such as Bar Mitzvah making it seem like a ritual task to be put on display as opposed to a lifelong skill for self-reflection and self-judgment. Another very common contemporary problem is the one identified in Isaiah 58: the ritual of prayer is not placed in the context of a concern for the moral life and social justice.
How then do we prevent prayer from becoming a "mitzvah melumadah?" I think there needs to be a place in the community for people to renew their prayer life. It should not be an alternative community because prayer in any community becomes captive to communal expectation and convention. Rather there should be a place you go to shake things up a bit, to get a different perspective, and return to one's prayer home with a mitzvah mehudeshet-a mitzvah refreshed.
That is the aim of the services Panim Hadashot offers on the High Holidays. We offer people a prayer experience outside of the regular mode which makes it possible for them to get in touch with the original inspiration of prayer in Judaism. The purpose of such gathering is not to form community, but to inspire and evoke renewal and reorientation. It is meant to seed reflection and to plant the source of insight. My hope is that insight gained in these gathering will deepen this person as they connect to a more permanent community of prayer.
The metaphor to describe what Panim Hadashot does with our approach to High Holidays is "recharging batteries". Everyone needs a recharging of batteries in their spiritual lives. That is one way we can respond to Isaiah's challenge of a mitzvah done by rote. Allow yourself the opportunity to renew and that can make you "return" home with a greater field of spiritual vision than you had before.
Gemar Hatimah Tova,
Rabbi Dov Gartenberg
September 2006
on Spiritual Renewal Before Yom Kippur, 2006
Rabbi Dov Gartenberg
On Yom Kippur, we read in the morning the stirring passage from the prophet Isaiah from chapter 58. The prophet questions the religious piety of Israel who engaged in a fast. "To be sure, they seek Me daily, eager to learn My ways... They are eager for the nearness of God: Why, when we fasted, did You not see? When we starved our bodies, did You pay no heed." The prophet dismisses their so called piety and points out what is missing in their religious priorities: "Because you fast in strife and contention and you strike with a wicked fist...Is such the fast I desire?"
Isaiah, the biblical prophet, exposes disordered and misplaced spiritualityof people who appear to be pious. In chapter 29 Isaiah (who according to biblical critics is a different prophet than the one in 58) describes a people who have lost sense of the purpose of prayer. 'Because the people has approached Me with its mouth and honored Me with its lips, But has kept its heart far from Me, and its worship of Me has been a commandment of men, learned by rote.' Isaiah describes people who follow God's law with thought or intention-"mitzvat anashim melumadah."
This pointed complaint about habituated religious ritual is the precedent of an oft repeated criticism within Judaism and a familiar attack on Judaism from without including the passages from Paul of Tarshes polemics of the Pharisees in the New Testament. But it is fair to say that Isaiah's concern is a deeply Jewish time honored concern, one that is found across the generations from Maimonides in 12th century Egypt to the Hasidim in 18th century Russia.
My vision of Panim Hadashot is deeply indebted to Isaiah's concern. As an observant person, I know how easily mitzvot and practice can become habituated or taken over by conventional considerations.
There is a time in our lives when we need to renew, reinvigorate, reorient what is familiar. This is true of spiritual life as in all other areas of life. I believe that it is critical in a serious spiritual life to be ready at times to change perspective, to move out of one's customary seat, to change the seder of things. Our eyes would open up to things we could not see or did not sense. We may return to the original place we started but we will see things differently.
This need for "refreshing one's perspective" is particularly critical concerning the mitzvah of fixed communal prayer. Contemporary communal prayer in all the denominations is governed by conventions of decorum, music, and contemporary culture, which often obscure the deeper meaning, and experience of prayer.
Most modern Jewish institutions from synagogues, schools, and camps attempt to teach the forms of prayer, but often neglect how a worshipper accesses the inner life. Another problem is that prayer is usually taught in connection to life cycle events such as Bar Mitzvah making it seem like a ritual task to be put on display as opposed to a lifelong skill for self-reflection and self-judgment. Another very common contemporary problem is the one identified in Isaiah 58: the ritual of prayer is not placed in the context of a concern for the moral life and social justice.
How then do we prevent prayer from becoming a "mitzvah melumadah?" I think there needs to be a place in the community for people to renew their prayer life. It should not be an alternative community because prayer in any community becomes captive to communal expectation and convention. Rather there should be a place you go to shake things up a bit, to get a different perspective, and return to one's prayer home with a mitzvah mehudeshet-a mitzvah refreshed.
That is the aim of the services Panim Hadashot offers on the High Holidays. We offer people a prayer experience outside of the regular mode which makes it possible for them to get in touch with the original inspiration of prayer in Judaism. The purpose of such gathering is not to form community, but to inspire and evoke renewal and reorientation. It is meant to seed reflection and to plant the source of insight. My hope is that insight gained in these gathering will deepen this person as they connect to a more permanent community of prayer.
The metaphor to describe what Panim Hadashot does with our approach to High Holidays is "recharging batteries". Everyone needs a recharging of batteries in their spiritual lives. That is one way we can respond to Isaiah's challenge of a mitzvah done by rote. Allow yourself the opportunity to renew and that can make you "return" home with a greater field of spiritual vision than you had before.
Gemar Hatimah Tova,
Rabbi Dov Gartenberg
September 2006
The Great Feast Before the Fast: A Personal Reflection
Dear Friends and Readers,
I wish each of you a Gemar Hatimah Tovah (to be sealed in the Book of Life). I hope you have a chance to glance at the text for the Feast before the Yom Kippur Fast known traditionally as the "Se'udat Hamafseket". For me this is the highlight of everything Panim is doing these High Holidays. I have experienced many powerful moments around the table with family and friends. I love the joyful spirit of a Shabbat table, the pageantry of a Passover table, the sense of newness of a Rosh Hashannah table, the vulnerability of a feast in the Sukkah, the sense of nature's power at a Tu Bishvat seder, and the outrageous playfulness of a Purim feast. But the feast before Yom Kippur, like Yom Kippur itself is on another level entirely.
Several stories in the Talmud dwell on this meal, telling stories of the sages returning from the academy to their families. In typical fashion, the Talmud reveals the truth of these encounters. They are not all lovely and filled with accounts of reconciliation or repentance. However, clearly the ancients regarded this meal as a time for people to gather and make one last great push to repair relationships and to bring about reconciliation. It was in essence a Teshuvah feast.
This tradition is deeply inspiring to me. It is yet another example of how Jews have made feasts times of opportunity and spiritual power. It reveals a religion in which relationship is so important, so concrete, and so necessary of our personal attention regardless of who we are and where we are in our lives. Judaism is not an abstract religion; it is a religion which places relationship in the center: our relationship with family, with nature, with God.
Before I spend the day in personal communication with God, I prepare for it with personal and attentive conversation with family and friends around a table. The urgency of the meal is in the word 'mafseket 'meaning ending or interruption. This meal ends the time for repairing relationships with humans and transitions us to repairing our relationship with God. The link is illustrative. You first have to attend to humans and then attend to God. Not the other way around.
Shannah Tovah,
Rabbi Dov Gartenberg
I wish each of you a Gemar Hatimah Tovah (to be sealed in the Book of Life). I hope you have a chance to glance at the text for the Feast before the Yom Kippur Fast known traditionally as the "Se'udat Hamafseket". For me this is the highlight of everything Panim is doing these High Holidays. I have experienced many powerful moments around the table with family and friends. I love the joyful spirit of a Shabbat table, the pageantry of a Passover table, the sense of newness of a Rosh Hashannah table, the vulnerability of a feast in the Sukkah, the sense of nature's power at a Tu Bishvat seder, and the outrageous playfulness of a Purim feast. But the feast before Yom Kippur, like Yom Kippur itself is on another level entirely.
Several stories in the Talmud dwell on this meal, telling stories of the sages returning from the academy to their families. In typical fashion, the Talmud reveals the truth of these encounters. They are not all lovely and filled with accounts of reconciliation or repentance. However, clearly the ancients regarded this meal as a time for people to gather and make one last great push to repair relationships and to bring about reconciliation. It was in essence a Teshuvah feast.
This tradition is deeply inspiring to me. It is yet another example of how Jews have made feasts times of opportunity and spiritual power. It reveals a religion in which relationship is so important, so concrete, and so necessary of our personal attention regardless of who we are and where we are in our lives. Judaism is not an abstract religion; it is a religion which places relationship in the center: our relationship with family, with nature, with God.
Before I spend the day in personal communication with God, I prepare for it with personal and attentive conversation with family and friends around a table. The urgency of the meal is in the word 'mafseket 'meaning ending or interruption. This meal ends the time for repairing relationships with humans and transitions us to repairing our relationship with God. The link is illustrative. You first have to attend to humans and then attend to God. Not the other way around.
Shannah Tovah,
Rabbi Dov Gartenberg
Friday, September 15, 2006
HIGH HOLIDAY…SEDERS? by Emily Moore appearing the JT News
The High Holidays. We know them well, right? They are the time for us to go to synagogue with the yearly desire to understand ourselves and our behavior, to set right our misdeeds before God and with our community, to resolve to do better, to hope the slate may be wiped clean. A time to see everyone we may not have seen all year, a time to deeply contemplate the meaning of tzedaka, to shed tears over loved ones passed, to commiserate with kids squirming in their seats and a time to just make it through the fast one more year. But seders, full of ritual foods and discussions of the meanings of the holiday and wonderful smells and tastes-- for Rosh Hashonah and Yom Kippur?
This year in Seattle, Panim Hadashot, a wonderful new organization dedicated to bringing greater personal meaning to Jewish rituals and traditions through the (very Jewish) path of discussions, small Shabbat gatherings, and feasts, is holding unique seders for both erev Rosh Hashonah and the meal before the fast on Yom Kippur. Founded and led by Rabbi Dov Gartenberg, Panim Hadashot (whose chosen descriptor is "New Faces of Judaism") will gather the community in the beautiful dining hall of Bastyr University for pareve ritual meals that it hopes will begin new traditions during the Days of Awe.
But although Panim Hadashot is bringing what certainly seems to be a new concept to life in this season of ancient teachings and known rituals, the idea of a seder for Rosh Hashonah, at least, is not new. The Gemarra, in tractate Kersius declares: "At the beginning of each year a person should accustom him (her) self to eating gourds, leeks, fenugreek, beets and dates", all of which represent good "omens" or have positive connotations. One interpretation of why the authors of the Gemarra admonish us to eat these helpful foods is the idea that ingesting them will remind us that merely eating the "good" will not be enough for us to be seen as truly good on this Judgement Day: We also have to search our own hearts for goodness and repent the bad deeds we have indulged in. Another view indicates that by eating what represents goodness we are asking to be remembered for a good year internally and not by overtly petitioning in our own favor.
Blessings and "Yehi ratzon" ("May it be Your will…") prayers are said for each of the foods stated in the Gemarra, and for a few others that have attracted Rosh Hashonah significance over the centuries: Challas with round or other descriptive shapes, apples and honey, pomegranates, fish and the head of a sheep or a fish.
How these particular foods became honored with places in the ritual focus of Rosh Hashonah lies with the ancient practice of matching the name of a thing with a concept whose name has a similar sound. For example, the Hebrew name for leek is karti which is chosen because it sounds like karet, to cut, to cut out or to destroy. So, the concept and the prayer related to leeks might be "Yehi ratzon, may it be Your will to destroy my adversaries" or "Yehi ratzon, may You help me in destroying my will to do (a) bad deed" or "Yehi ratzon, may you help me by cutting out my will to yell at my kids", or whatever "Yehi ratzon" is most appropriate for you in your life. Of course, the leader of the seder will chose a meaning (s)he feels is most appropriate, but this seder tradition leaves much room for individuals to bring their own intimacies to the prayer that the food/concept brings up.
An interesting side note about these food names/idea names is that because this referencing practice is ancient and most Jews have moved away from the Middle East where these particular edibles are common, other foods are also referenced as having the same name as the original ones mentioned in the Gemarra. "Rubiyah", the Hebrew name for fenugreek, also comes up as the name for beans and black-eyed peas, two foods that were probably common in different areas where fenugreek was either hard to get or unknown. The sounds-like concept word for "rubiyah" is "yirbu", to increase. So, while some seders direct you to eat black-eyed peas for the prayer "Yehi ratzon, may it be Your will to increase my virtues", in others (Panim Hadashot’s, for example) you will be eating leek fritters for the same prayer concept. And while the word "k’ra", phonetically related to the word for "proclaim/read" or "to tear", was known to the ancients as meaning gourd, "k’ra" is also found to mean red lentils. So, although the Panim Hadashot seder will serve a savory pumpkin-filled pastry to be eaten accompanying the prayer entreating: "May it be Your will that our merits be proclaimed before you" or "…that the decree of our sentence be torn up", you might find the same prayer has you are eating a lovely red lentil stew in another place, another year.
That lentil stew will not be spicy, however; the general ideas for foods to be eaten for the High Holidays consider that nothing sour or overly spicy should be consumed so that we can better concentrate on hoping internally for a "good, sweet year" by eating (of course) apples with honey, honey cake and any fabulous traditional family sweets. The lore that has developed for honey cake is well-known: Ask a friend to give you a piece of the cake on Rosh Hashonah and you will not have to ask them for anything else all year. Or, if it has been declared in heaven that a person is to become a beggar, through this request for food the decree has been fulfilled and it therefore can be annulled. Traditions about eating pomegranates on the New Year abound, but one of the most enriching is the notion that there are 613 mitzvot and there are also exactly the same number of seeds in a pomegranate, making the fruit the embodiment of good deeds. Fish are eaten because they are so numerous that consuming them will promote a prosperous year. The head of a sheep (yes, really eaten in many Jewish cultures over the ages) represents the ram that was sacrificed by Abraham when God released him from having to give up Issac. Eating any "head", sheep, fish or, for beef, maybe just the tongue, also promotes the idea of being at the "head" in the world and not at the "tail". Challas for the holidays may be studded with dried fruits for sweetness and shaped into rounds for the cycle of the year, or formed into ladders, suggesting Jacob’s ladder (where again we want to be at the top!)
What about a seder for Yom Kippur when we know we will be fasting for twenty-five hours? On the day before Yom Kippur it is as much a mitzvah to eat twice as much as usual as it is to fast for the Day of Attonement! So, clearly a "Feast before the Fast" must first of all live up to its title so that worshipers will have the strength and stamina to get through the rigors of the following holy day. Practical suggestions are that salty foods be avoided to inhibit thirst and foods that produce heat in the body, like garlic, spices and (?) eggs also be left out. But what will be the substance of a ritual meal that must also prepare the mind, the heart and the soul for the holiest and most difficult day of the year? Although Rosh Hashonah seders have been celebrated over the Jewish millennia, and indeed Panim Hadashot had its first last year, a Yom Kippur Feast before the Fast is a new creation. Rabbi Gartenberg has divided the seder into seven parts, each relating one of the central themes of the holiday to a symbolic food that expresses and expands the meaning of the concept, in keeping with referenced lore and literature from Yom Kippur texts.
The first part, called "Chet: The Acknowledgement of Sin", references red as the color of sin (for the red string tied around to neck of the goat sent out into the wilderness carrying the sins of the Children of Israel), and the food eaten will be a salad of roasted tomatoes, sweet red peppers and beets. The second section, "Teshuvah: Turning to Repentance: Revealing the Truth" brings foods that must be opened up to reveal a hidden truth, the peeling away of artichoke leaves to find the heart, the discovering of a sweet/savory filling in a kreplach (also a carb—highly recommended for stamina!) "Tefilah: The Self-Reflection of Prayer" begins with the ephemeral and a whiff of rose water, then we accompany a contemplation Jonah’s relationship with God and the gourd vine that Jonah loves so much with the crunch of toasted pumpkin seeds.
"Tzedakah: The Act of Righteousness" takes us to the definition of righteous acts in Leviticus where we are directed to leave the "small grapes" (unripe bunches) on the vine during harvest so the poor may collect them; we eat tiny, sweet grapes as we reflect on our own acts of tzedakah. In "Kapparah: Attonement" the goat who "carries away" our sins comes up again and in reflection we eat fresh, white goat cheese in pure, fragrant olive oil. "Purity: Taharah" is accomplished with the ritual washing of hands and brings us to "Mahzor: The Cycle of the Year" when we dip pieces of round challa in honey and wish all at the seder "L’Shana Tova!" And then comes the meal!
To get more information on the Panim Hadashot High Holiday seders and to receive registration forms, call Cynthia at Panim Hadashot, (877) 643-7274
This year in Seattle, Panim Hadashot, a wonderful new organization dedicated to bringing greater personal meaning to Jewish rituals and traditions through the (very Jewish) path of discussions, small Shabbat gatherings, and feasts, is holding unique seders for both erev Rosh Hashonah and the meal before the fast on Yom Kippur. Founded and led by Rabbi Dov Gartenberg, Panim Hadashot (whose chosen descriptor is "New Faces of Judaism") will gather the community in the beautiful dining hall of Bastyr University for pareve ritual meals that it hopes will begin new traditions during the Days of Awe.
But although Panim Hadashot is bringing what certainly seems to be a new concept to life in this season of ancient teachings and known rituals, the idea of a seder for Rosh Hashonah, at least, is not new. The Gemarra, in tractate Kersius declares: "At the beginning of each year a person should accustom him (her) self to eating gourds, leeks, fenugreek, beets and dates", all of which represent good "omens" or have positive connotations. One interpretation of why the authors of the Gemarra admonish us to eat these helpful foods is the idea that ingesting them will remind us that merely eating the "good" will not be enough for us to be seen as truly good on this Judgement Day: We also have to search our own hearts for goodness and repent the bad deeds we have indulged in. Another view indicates that by eating what represents goodness we are asking to be remembered for a good year internally and not by overtly petitioning in our own favor.
Blessings and "Yehi ratzon" ("May it be Your will…") prayers are said for each of the foods stated in the Gemarra, and for a few others that have attracted Rosh Hashonah significance over the centuries: Challas with round or other descriptive shapes, apples and honey, pomegranates, fish and the head of a sheep or a fish.
How these particular foods became honored with places in the ritual focus of Rosh Hashonah lies with the ancient practice of matching the name of a thing with a concept whose name has a similar sound. For example, the Hebrew name for leek is karti which is chosen because it sounds like karet, to cut, to cut out or to destroy. So, the concept and the prayer related to leeks might be "Yehi ratzon, may it be Your will to destroy my adversaries" or "Yehi ratzon, may You help me in destroying my will to do (a) bad deed" or "Yehi ratzon, may you help me by cutting out my will to yell at my kids", or whatever "Yehi ratzon" is most appropriate for you in your life. Of course, the leader of the seder will chose a meaning (s)he feels is most appropriate, but this seder tradition leaves much room for individuals to bring their own intimacies to the prayer that the food/concept brings up.
An interesting side note about these food names/idea names is that because this referencing practice is ancient and most Jews have moved away from the Middle East where these particular edibles are common, other foods are also referenced as having the same name as the original ones mentioned in the Gemarra. "Rubiyah", the Hebrew name for fenugreek, also comes up as the name for beans and black-eyed peas, two foods that were probably common in different areas where fenugreek was either hard to get or unknown. The sounds-like concept word for "rubiyah" is "yirbu", to increase. So, while some seders direct you to eat black-eyed peas for the prayer "Yehi ratzon, may it be Your will to increase my virtues", in others (Panim Hadashot’s, for example) you will be eating leek fritters for the same prayer concept. And while the word "k’ra", phonetically related to the word for "proclaim/read" or "to tear", was known to the ancients as meaning gourd, "k’ra" is also found to mean red lentils. So, although the Panim Hadashot seder will serve a savory pumpkin-filled pastry to be eaten accompanying the prayer entreating: "May it be Your will that our merits be proclaimed before you" or "…that the decree of our sentence be torn up", you might find the same prayer has you are eating a lovely red lentil stew in another place, another year.
That lentil stew will not be spicy, however; the general ideas for foods to be eaten for the High Holidays consider that nothing sour or overly spicy should be consumed so that we can better concentrate on hoping internally for a "good, sweet year" by eating (of course) apples with honey, honey cake and any fabulous traditional family sweets. The lore that has developed for honey cake is well-known: Ask a friend to give you a piece of the cake on Rosh Hashonah and you will not have to ask them for anything else all year. Or, if it has been declared in heaven that a person is to become a beggar, through this request for food the decree has been fulfilled and it therefore can be annulled. Traditions about eating pomegranates on the New Year abound, but one of the most enriching is the notion that there are 613 mitzvot and there are also exactly the same number of seeds in a pomegranate, making the fruit the embodiment of good deeds. Fish are eaten because they are so numerous that consuming them will promote a prosperous year. The head of a sheep (yes, really eaten in many Jewish cultures over the ages) represents the ram that was sacrificed by Abraham when God released him from having to give up Issac. Eating any "head", sheep, fish or, for beef, maybe just the tongue, also promotes the idea of being at the "head" in the world and not at the "tail". Challas for the holidays may be studded with dried fruits for sweetness and shaped into rounds for the cycle of the year, or formed into ladders, suggesting Jacob’s ladder (where again we want to be at the top!)
What about a seder for Yom Kippur when we know we will be fasting for twenty-five hours? On the day before Yom Kippur it is as much a mitzvah to eat twice as much as usual as it is to fast for the Day of Attonement! So, clearly a "Feast before the Fast" must first of all live up to its title so that worshipers will have the strength and stamina to get through the rigors of the following holy day. Practical suggestions are that salty foods be avoided to inhibit thirst and foods that produce heat in the body, like garlic, spices and (?) eggs also be left out. But what will be the substance of a ritual meal that must also prepare the mind, the heart and the soul for the holiest and most difficult day of the year? Although Rosh Hashonah seders have been celebrated over the Jewish millennia, and indeed Panim Hadashot had its first last year, a Yom Kippur Feast before the Fast is a new creation. Rabbi Gartenberg has divided the seder into seven parts, each relating one of the central themes of the holiday to a symbolic food that expresses and expands the meaning of the concept, in keeping with referenced lore and literature from Yom Kippur texts.
The first part, called "Chet: The Acknowledgement of Sin", references red as the color of sin (for the red string tied around to neck of the goat sent out into the wilderness carrying the sins of the Children of Israel), and the food eaten will be a salad of roasted tomatoes, sweet red peppers and beets. The second section, "Teshuvah: Turning to Repentance: Revealing the Truth" brings foods that must be opened up to reveal a hidden truth, the peeling away of artichoke leaves to find the heart, the discovering of a sweet/savory filling in a kreplach (also a carb—highly recommended for stamina!) "Tefilah: The Self-Reflection of Prayer" begins with the ephemeral and a whiff of rose water, then we accompany a contemplation Jonah’s relationship with God and the gourd vine that Jonah loves so much with the crunch of toasted pumpkin seeds.
"Tzedakah: The Act of Righteousness" takes us to the definition of righteous acts in Leviticus where we are directed to leave the "small grapes" (unripe bunches) on the vine during harvest so the poor may collect them; we eat tiny, sweet grapes as we reflect on our own acts of tzedakah. In "Kapparah: Attonement" the goat who "carries away" our sins comes up again and in reflection we eat fresh, white goat cheese in pure, fragrant olive oil. "Purity: Taharah" is accomplished with the ritual washing of hands and brings us to "Mahzor: The Cycle of the Year" when we dip pieces of round challa in honey and wish all at the seder "L’Shana Tova!" And then comes the meal!
To get more information on the Panim Hadashot High Holiday seders and to receive registration forms, call Cynthia at Panim Hadashot, (877) 643-7274
Wednesday, September 13, 2006
Lessons from Whole Foods and The Mitzvah of Hospitality
During the past few weeks I have had a booth at the local Whole Foods sharing apples and honey and telling people about Panim Hadashot. People are actually excited to talk with a Rabbi in the market and the conversations have been exhilarating and fascinating. From these many encounters I have found it helpful to open with an explanation of the meaning of Panim Hadashot.
I tell people that the word in Hebrew means New Face or New Faces. The Talmud uses the term in reference to a newly married couple who are feted during the first seven days of marriage with parties. At these parties the 7 blessings, which were chanted under the Huppah, are chanted again and the joy and celebration is extended from the original wedding date. The Talmud requires that these parties can only happen if there is a minyan (a quota of 10 Jews) and 'Panim Hadashot' are present. A new face must be included who was not present at the wedding. I go on to interpret the meaning of the rabbinic law to people at the booth. The purpose of the requirement of Panim Hadashot is to extend the joy to others outside one's immediate circle of friends and family.
When I tell people this at the market, their eyes open wide and they smile. "What a beautiful tradition," people tell me. My opening causes a lot of people to tell their stories. One of the most common stories of the Jews is the inhospitality or cliquishness of synagogues. Other Jews are simply fascinated with a Jewish organization that emphasizes hospitality and the sharing of Shabbat and festivals around a table. Many non-Jews come to the booth and ask us about the food traditions. Many others ask about Panim Hadashot which leads to fascinating discussions about religion. Many of the non-Jews have Jewish friends and even family such as the young non-Jewish man wearing a T shirt from his cousin's Bar MItzvah.
The Whole Foods booth has taught me how much Jewish demographics have changed. Jews have fully integrated in Seattle. Many are intermarried, they do not socialize exclusively with Jews, and their idenities are complex in which Judaism is only a part of who they are. It has also taught me the value of educating non-Jews about the beautfiul traditions of Shabbat, festivals, and home traditions.
These conversations have clarified for me the contribution of Panim Hadashot to Jewish life. By making hospitality our primary value and goal we reverse a very negative view of Judaism held by many Jews. They view Jews and Judaism as clannish, standoffish, cliquish, and unfriendly. This perception is inaccurate in many cases, but I have learned that it is widely held among Jews who hesitate to affiliate or connect to organized Jewish life. That view is even common among affiliated Jews.
I started Panim Hadashot from an awareness of this blind spot in the organized community. I saw it as a pulpit rabbi when the most committed Jews were indifferent or even hostile to newcomers. I see the problem of cliquishness in most synagogues which unintentionally fall into becoming communities of closed circles, of committed cores with larger numbers of indifferent and disengaged members in the periphery. Most of all, I see the problem in the fact that most Jews do not even come close to seeing hospitality (hachnasat orchim) as a mitzvah.
So many of the Jews we meet at Whole Foods are surprised and excited to hear of a Jewish organization that is open and welcoming. One of the participants called us a "clique buster" and felt that Panim was the first Jewish organization that he would feel comfortable in. I would put it positively. The emerging core aim of our work is to restore hospitality as a mitzvah of living a Jewish life. It should not be the goal of an organization, but the personal commitment of every Jew. To make this so, not only involves instilling a more welcoming outlook in Jews, but a reappropriation of the practices of Jewish life most adapted for sharing. That is why I have emphasized the linking of Shabbat and hospitality for Shabbat is the great Jewish teaching and way of life that should be shared in all its beauty and greatness.
After all the other meaning of Panim Hadashot is Shabbat, for the Sabbath presents a "New Face" to us each week. It is also time for us to welcome it and share it with others.
Rabbi Dov Gartenberg
I tell people that the word in Hebrew means New Face or New Faces. The Talmud uses the term in reference to a newly married couple who are feted during the first seven days of marriage with parties. At these parties the 7 blessings, which were chanted under the Huppah, are chanted again and the joy and celebration is extended from the original wedding date. The Talmud requires that these parties can only happen if there is a minyan (a quota of 10 Jews) and 'Panim Hadashot' are present. A new face must be included who was not present at the wedding. I go on to interpret the meaning of the rabbinic law to people at the booth. The purpose of the requirement of Panim Hadashot is to extend the joy to others outside one's immediate circle of friends and family.
When I tell people this at the market, their eyes open wide and they smile. "What a beautiful tradition," people tell me. My opening causes a lot of people to tell their stories. One of the most common stories of the Jews is the inhospitality or cliquishness of synagogues. Other Jews are simply fascinated with a Jewish organization that emphasizes hospitality and the sharing of Shabbat and festivals around a table. Many non-Jews come to the booth and ask us about the food traditions. Many others ask about Panim Hadashot which leads to fascinating discussions about religion. Many of the non-Jews have Jewish friends and even family such as the young non-Jewish man wearing a T shirt from his cousin's Bar MItzvah.
The Whole Foods booth has taught me how much Jewish demographics have changed. Jews have fully integrated in Seattle. Many are intermarried, they do not socialize exclusively with Jews, and their idenities are complex in which Judaism is only a part of who they are. It has also taught me the value of educating non-Jews about the beautfiul traditions of Shabbat, festivals, and home traditions.
These conversations have clarified for me the contribution of Panim Hadashot to Jewish life. By making hospitality our primary value and goal we reverse a very negative view of Judaism held by many Jews. They view Jews and Judaism as clannish, standoffish, cliquish, and unfriendly. This perception is inaccurate in many cases, but I have learned that it is widely held among Jews who hesitate to affiliate or connect to organized Jewish life. That view is even common among affiliated Jews.
I started Panim Hadashot from an awareness of this blind spot in the organized community. I saw it as a pulpit rabbi when the most committed Jews were indifferent or even hostile to newcomers. I see the problem of cliquishness in most synagogues which unintentionally fall into becoming communities of closed circles, of committed cores with larger numbers of indifferent and disengaged members in the periphery. Most of all, I see the problem in the fact that most Jews do not even come close to seeing hospitality (hachnasat orchim) as a mitzvah.
So many of the Jews we meet at Whole Foods are surprised and excited to hear of a Jewish organization that is open and welcoming. One of the participants called us a "clique buster" and felt that Panim was the first Jewish organization that he would feel comfortable in. I would put it positively. The emerging core aim of our work is to restore hospitality as a mitzvah of living a Jewish life. It should not be the goal of an organization, but the personal commitment of every Jew. To make this so, not only involves instilling a more welcoming outlook in Jews, but a reappropriation of the practices of Jewish life most adapted for sharing. That is why I have emphasized the linking of Shabbat and hospitality for Shabbat is the great Jewish teaching and way of life that should be shared in all its beauty and greatness.
After all the other meaning of Panim Hadashot is Shabbat, for the Sabbath presents a "New Face" to us each week. It is also time for us to welcome it and share it with others.
Rabbi Dov Gartenberg
Monday, September 11, 2006
What 9/11 Did to Me
9/11 made me realize how traumatic events distort politics and community.
9/11 made me realize how deep the hatred was toward the United States, Israel, and the West.
9/11 made me realize how destructive human belief and action can potentially be.
9/11 made it much harder for me to explain the world to my children.
9/11 made it harder for me to teach the value of faith and devotion to God.
9/11 forced me to review how I conceived of God
9/11 distorted my relations with Muslims, creating an awkward religious dialogue in which repudiation played a greater role than attestations of faith.
9/11 made me realize that we would be sucked into violent wars while ignoring the greater challenge of global warming.
9/11 made me an apologist for religion when more and more people began to see it as toxic.
9/11 sobered my view of human nature, religion, and culture.
9/11 made me understand the concept and reality of the word, enemy.
9/11 made it harder to argue against the apocalyptics amongst us.
What did 9/11 Do to You?
9/11 made me realize how deep the hatred was toward the United States, Israel, and the West.
9/11 made me realize how destructive human belief and action can potentially be.
9/11 made it much harder for me to explain the world to my children.
9/11 made it harder for me to teach the value of faith and devotion to God.
9/11 forced me to review how I conceived of God
9/11 distorted my relations with Muslims, creating an awkward religious dialogue in which repudiation played a greater role than attestations of faith.
9/11 made me realize that we would be sucked into violent wars while ignoring the greater challenge of global warming.
9/11 made me an apologist for religion when more and more people began to see it as toxic.
9/11 sobered my view of human nature, religion, and culture.
9/11 made me understand the concept and reality of the word, enemy.
9/11 made it harder to argue against the apocalyptics amongst us.
What did 9/11 Do to You?
Thursday, September 7, 2006
The Jew as an Outsider
David Grossman, the Israeli novelist and essayist wrote this piece in the book I am Jewish:
Personal Reflections Inspired by the Last Words of Daniel Pearl. You might recall that Grossman lost his son in the last hour of this summer war with Hezbollah. This is an exquisite expression of Jewish identity through defiant alienation. I personally relate to this description even though my rabbinic training has made me a Jewish collectivist. This piece will be one of the study texts of the "Why Be Jewish" forums Panim Hadashot is holding on Rosh Hashannah and Yom Kippur afternoon. For more information go to www.panimhadashot.com.
For me, to be a Jew is to be an outsider. An outsider in relation to human situations in which a collective of any sort comes into being, composed of many who speak (or roar) in a single voice;
an outsider with that slight suspicion of whatever makes that collective possible;
with that sense of loneliness that takes hold of the individual in the presence of such a collective, even if he does not want-or is unable-to be part of it; with the feelings of uniqueness and election that accompany that loneliness;
with that trace of (not entirely comprehensible) pride that accompany those feelings, pained incessantly by the fact that that uniqueness and election place an invisible but real barrier between him and the others;
with the constant skepticismthat lies-or ought to lie-within regard to those feelings (which have turned, for the Jewish people, into the concept of "the chosen people"), because all too often it seems as if those feelings are nothing but a scab that has formed over the wound of loneliness, of the Jews tragic distinctiveness;
with the knowledge that this distinctiveness-and who knows whether it was imposed from the start on the Jews by others or whether the Jews chose and refined it-has made "the Jew" into an almost universal symbol of the absolute alien;
with pain at the fact that this attitude has caused the Jew and his history to become, in the eyes of humanity, a story that is larger than life, and therefore something that is not really part of life itself, something detached from the course of nature and history experienced by other nations.
To this I must add the sense of profound, instinctive, familial identification that I feel toward Jews throughout the generations. I share their fate, their way of thinking, their culture, their language, and their humor. But perhaps what I really identify with, more than anything else, is precisely that sense of loneliness, injury, and persecution, the feeling of being foreign in this world, ever anxious about the tenuousness of existence. But whenever I feel that by identifying this way as a Jew, I become part of this particular collective, the Jewish collective, I take a step back, and have some serious (and very Jewish) doubts about belonging to it.
Personal Reflections Inspired by the Last Words of Daniel Pearl. You might recall that Grossman lost his son in the last hour of this summer war with Hezbollah. This is an exquisite expression of Jewish identity through defiant alienation. I personally relate to this description even though my rabbinic training has made me a Jewish collectivist. This piece will be one of the study texts of the "Why Be Jewish" forums Panim Hadashot is holding on Rosh Hashannah and Yom Kippur afternoon. For more information go to www.panimhadashot.com.
For me, to be a Jew is to be an outsider. An outsider in relation to human situations in which a collective of any sort comes into being, composed of many who speak (or roar) in a single voice;
an outsider with that slight suspicion of whatever makes that collective possible;
with that sense of loneliness that takes hold of the individual in the presence of such a collective, even if he does not want-or is unable-to be part of it; with the feelings of uniqueness and election that accompany that loneliness;
with that trace of (not entirely comprehensible) pride that accompany those feelings, pained incessantly by the fact that that uniqueness and election place an invisible but real barrier between him and the others;
with the constant skepticismthat lies-or ought to lie-within regard to those feelings (which have turned, for the Jewish people, into the concept of "the chosen people"), because all too often it seems as if those feelings are nothing but a scab that has formed over the wound of loneliness, of the Jews tragic distinctiveness;
with the knowledge that this distinctiveness-and who knows whether it was imposed from the start on the Jews by others or whether the Jews chose and refined it-has made "the Jew" into an almost universal symbol of the absolute alien;
with pain at the fact that this attitude has caused the Jew and his history to become, in the eyes of humanity, a story that is larger than life, and therefore something that is not really part of life itself, something detached from the course of nature and history experienced by other nations.
To this I must add the sense of profound, instinctive, familial identification that I feel toward Jews throughout the generations. I share their fate, their way of thinking, their culture, their language, and their humor. But perhaps what I really identify with, more than anything else, is precisely that sense of loneliness, injury, and persecution, the feeling of being foreign in this world, ever anxious about the tenuousness of existence. But whenever I feel that by identifying this way as a Jew, I become part of this particular collective, the Jewish collective, I take a step back, and have some serious (and very Jewish) doubts about belonging to it.
Wednesday, September 6, 2006
Don't Trust Experts in Judasim
Judaism is huge. Even having a rabbinic education only gives you a partial understanding of Judaism. Its vastness and history are beyond the grasp of any individual. That is why it is so endlessly interesting. Beware of people who say they are experts in Judaism. They are lying.
The Mitzvah of Hospitality
The sages believed that the mitzvot of the Torah were there to act as counterweight to our natural tendencies. A mitzvah is by definition hard to do because it may go against our nature, our drives. The other day it dawned on me why Hachnasat Orchim-hospitality is a mitzvah. It is really hard to reach out to the other. As human beings we are naturally tribal, familial, and self centered. To regard and welcome the other you have to step out of your context and extend yourself.
When I was a rabbi of a shul, I always heard outsiders complain that the congregation was cliquish. It drove me crazy when I heard that criticism because I thought that hospitality is at the core of what it means to be a Jewish community. Yet in reality it isn't. Communities default into cliques and circles, like a full cup of tea that cannot absorb anymore. Yet the mitzvah of hospitality challenges the notion that we are full and cannot take in anymore. Welcoming and extending our hand to the other is something we are commanded to do. So the question becomes, how does one fulfill the mitzvah as a part of one's life? How is one intentional about the mitzvah?
When I was a rabbi of a shul, I always heard outsiders complain that the congregation was cliquish. It drove me crazy when I heard that criticism because I thought that hospitality is at the core of what it means to be a Jewish community. Yet in reality it isn't. Communities default into cliques and circles, like a full cup of tea that cannot absorb anymore. Yet the mitzvah of hospitality challenges the notion that we are full and cannot take in anymore. Welcoming and extending our hand to the other is something we are commanded to do. So the question becomes, how does one fulfill the mitzvah as a part of one's life? How is one intentional about the mitzvah?
Sunday, September 3, 2006
Emerging Sacred Communities
I just returned from an unusual gathering in New York City of a "Working Group of Jewish Emerging Sacred Communities". I was invited to participate by the organizers of the meeting, Synagogue 3000, a think tank based in Los Angeles dedicated to synagogue transformation. The staff at Synagogue 3K has followed the emergence of Panim Hadashot with great interest and have sought my participation in two meetings to share ideas and to bring together Jewish spiritual innovators across the country. I am honored to have been invited. I would like to share a bit of what I learned.
Ron Wolfson, the director of Synagogue 3000, offers this as their organizing principle: "The future of the Jewish community in America is directly connected to the effectiveness of synagogues in transforming the Jewish people. By "transforming," I refer to two things: (1) the spiritual transformation of Jewish individuals and families and (2) the physical transformation of the Jewish community through incentives to increase our numbers through population growth, outreach to unaffiliated Jews, and welcoming and encouraging of non-Jews in Jewish relationships and families to become Jewish and/or to raise their children as Jews.
Transformation is about changing people's lives. It is not about membership or affiliation. It is not about numbers. It is about transforming the spiritual lives of individuals, one at a time. It is about "forming" a Jewish identity through the experience of living in a sacred community."
Synagogue 3K set up the Emerging Sacred Communities group to explore the burgeoning of new and alternative communities and initiatives within the Jewish community. The participants were mostly Rabbis in their 20s and 30s who are starting new communities in cities around the country. Also participating were 3 Rabbis from Israel engaged in building new communities and approaches. The emerging communities represented at this gathering were diverse and hard to characterize. Some are attempting to create alternatives to conventional synagogues.
Some are trying to transform older synagogues into something else. Some like myself were creating completely different models distinct from synagogues. Some of these communities organized themselves around social justice causes, while others were working on revitalizing and reformulating Jewish prayer. There were representatives from all the major denominations and many who identified themselves as post-denominational. Everyone agreed that the current Jewish communal structure is in crisis and that the modern synagogue and congregational rabbinate is in a struggle for legitimacy and relevance among many Jews.
My colleague, Rabbi Rachel Nussbaum, participated in the conference as well representing the community she is leading, the Kavanah Cooperative. One way of getting a taste of the emerging responses would be to compare the two innovative approaches of the Kavanah Cooperative and our effort, Panim Hadashot-New Faces of Judaism. Kavanah, like a number of other initiatives around the country is attempting to form a new model of Jewish community. Like Ikar in Los Angeles, Kavanah eschews the label synagogue.
The uniqueness of Kavanah is the choice of the word, cooperative. One of the central aims of Kavanah as I understand it is to form an intentional community. In the business world, a cooperative is different than a conventional market. The PCC cooperative requires membership and fosters a commitment to organic or alternative foods. In the world of Jewish communal life, synagogues are not considered 'intentional communities' (even though it takes a lot of intention to join one) because they do not ask members to make more than financial commitments at the time of joining.
Kavanah is attempting to build strong community by asking members to commit to dedicating time to an array of mitzvot, social justice, study, prayer, or community building. Kavanah has also defined itself as non-denominational as opposed to affiliating with a movement. Its programming differs from a conventional synagogue by creating a wider array of choices and balance of communal activity. There are multiple points of entry and there are fewer barriers to participation. I am excited for Kavanah and support its emergence and growth.
Panim Hadashot, however, is a very different model than Kavanah. First, Panim Hadashot is not about building a single cohesive community. Our emphasis is strictly on offering people powerful and meaningful Jewish experiences of celebration and study and to share these with others. Once Jews are engaged or reengaged in Judaism there are many communities to choose from and we will help people navigate that choice. I conceived of Panim Hadashot as a bridge to the organized Jewish community, a context for people to celebrate and study and experience Judaism more directly and without barriers. We are deliberately non-denominational, so we can reach out to every kind of Jew and also serve the many non-Jews who are connected to Jews through marriage and family.
We are focused on bringing a living and vital Judaism to homes and offering intensive and relationship building celebrations and learning experiences. In Panim Hadashot the Rabbi functions as a teacher, mentor, coach, and connector. I reach out to anyone who is interested and I go to where they are, in their homes and among their friends and circles of relationships. I am not trying to gain members or build a specific community, but rather to engage people with Judaism and help each to develop a practice of hospitality of sharing a enlivened Judaism with others.
In the past few months we have expanded our programs to serve congregations and Jewish organizations. We offer a program that intensifies and strengthens the Shabbat home and table culture of the congregation. We help to make communties more hospitable, more spiritual, more integrated between the private and public sphere. So it might be best to summarize Panim Hadashot as a catalyst for Jewish community building which is a resource for everyone in our diverse community.
I think Seattle needs both Kavanah and Panim Hadashot. Kavanah offers Seattle a serious experiment in building a more intentional community, a Jewish collective with a distinctive focus and ideal. Panim Hadashot offers a way to reclaim a Jewish home life and path to a more engaging Judaism that makes one appreciate the many choices that the Jewish community offers. Together we are part of a fascinating change taking place in American Jewry. Our gathering in New York was an ongoing attempt to make sense of the very creative spiritual ventures growing around the country. I is thrilling to be part of this creative ferment.
Ron Wolfson, the director of Synagogue 3000, offers this as their organizing principle: "The future of the Jewish community in America is directly connected to the effectiveness of synagogues in transforming the Jewish people. By "transforming," I refer to two things: (1) the spiritual transformation of Jewish individuals and families and (2) the physical transformation of the Jewish community through incentives to increase our numbers through population growth, outreach to unaffiliated Jews, and welcoming and encouraging of non-Jews in Jewish relationships and families to become Jewish and/or to raise their children as Jews.
Transformation is about changing people's lives. It is not about membership or affiliation. It is not about numbers. It is about transforming the spiritual lives of individuals, one at a time. It is about "forming" a Jewish identity through the experience of living in a sacred community."
Synagogue 3K set up the Emerging Sacred Communities group to explore the burgeoning of new and alternative communities and initiatives within the Jewish community. The participants were mostly Rabbis in their 20s and 30s who are starting new communities in cities around the country. Also participating were 3 Rabbis from Israel engaged in building new communities and approaches. The emerging communities represented at this gathering were diverse and hard to characterize. Some are attempting to create alternatives to conventional synagogues.
Some are trying to transform older synagogues into something else. Some like myself were creating completely different models distinct from synagogues. Some of these communities organized themselves around social justice causes, while others were working on revitalizing and reformulating Jewish prayer. There were representatives from all the major denominations and many who identified themselves as post-denominational. Everyone agreed that the current Jewish communal structure is in crisis and that the modern synagogue and congregational rabbinate is in a struggle for legitimacy and relevance among many Jews.
My colleague, Rabbi Rachel Nussbaum, participated in the conference as well representing the community she is leading, the Kavanah Cooperative. One way of getting a taste of the emerging responses would be to compare the two innovative approaches of the Kavanah Cooperative and our effort, Panim Hadashot-New Faces of Judaism. Kavanah, like a number of other initiatives around the country is attempting to form a new model of Jewish community. Like Ikar in Los Angeles, Kavanah eschews the label synagogue.
The uniqueness of Kavanah is the choice of the word, cooperative. One of the central aims of Kavanah as I understand it is to form an intentional community. In the business world, a cooperative is different than a conventional market. The PCC cooperative requires membership and fosters a commitment to organic or alternative foods. In the world of Jewish communal life, synagogues are not considered 'intentional communities' (even though it takes a lot of intention to join one) because they do not ask members to make more than financial commitments at the time of joining.
Kavanah is attempting to build strong community by asking members to commit to dedicating time to an array of mitzvot, social justice, study, prayer, or community building. Kavanah has also defined itself as non-denominational as opposed to affiliating with a movement. Its programming differs from a conventional synagogue by creating a wider array of choices and balance of communal activity. There are multiple points of entry and there are fewer barriers to participation. I am excited for Kavanah and support its emergence and growth.
Panim Hadashot, however, is a very different model than Kavanah. First, Panim Hadashot is not about building a single cohesive community. Our emphasis is strictly on offering people powerful and meaningful Jewish experiences of celebration and study and to share these with others. Once Jews are engaged or reengaged in Judaism there are many communities to choose from and we will help people navigate that choice. I conceived of Panim Hadashot as a bridge to the organized Jewish community, a context for people to celebrate and study and experience Judaism more directly and without barriers. We are deliberately non-denominational, so we can reach out to every kind of Jew and also serve the many non-Jews who are connected to Jews through marriage and family.
We are focused on bringing a living and vital Judaism to homes and offering intensive and relationship building celebrations and learning experiences. In Panim Hadashot the Rabbi functions as a teacher, mentor, coach, and connector. I reach out to anyone who is interested and I go to where they are, in their homes and among their friends and circles of relationships. I am not trying to gain members or build a specific community, but rather to engage people with Judaism and help each to develop a practice of hospitality of sharing a enlivened Judaism with others.
In the past few months we have expanded our programs to serve congregations and Jewish organizations. We offer a program that intensifies and strengthens the Shabbat home and table culture of the congregation. We help to make communties more hospitable, more spiritual, more integrated between the private and public sphere. So it might be best to summarize Panim Hadashot as a catalyst for Jewish community building which is a resource for everyone in our diverse community.
I think Seattle needs both Kavanah and Panim Hadashot. Kavanah offers Seattle a serious experiment in building a more intentional community, a Jewish collective with a distinctive focus and ideal. Panim Hadashot offers a way to reclaim a Jewish home life and path to a more engaging Judaism that makes one appreciate the many choices that the Jewish community offers. Together we are part of a fascinating change taking place in American Jewry. Our gathering in New York was an ongoing attempt to make sense of the very creative spiritual ventures growing around the country. I is thrilling to be part of this creative ferment.
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