Appropriation: Or, How I Feel When Christians Have Seders

Hello, friends! I hope your holiday seasons have begun as happily as mine--with beautiful events and interesting people, excellent decorations appearing seemingly overnight, and everyone smiling just a little bit more (most of the time, except when there are impossible crowds around major tourist attractions here in NYC...or crazy traffic...or it's cold...).

So the other night I called a Catholic friend of mine (who lives in another city), and she was eager to ask me a question: she and some of her Christian friends want to host a Seder for the Jewish holiday of Passover in the spring, and she was hoping I could help her figure out how to do it.

I felt very confused about my feelings on this.

There will be no Jews at her Seder. I can help guide them in the rituals, recommend online guides for them to use and try to explain some of the meanings, but I will not be there. She will not have a direct Jewish perspective on the day. They will be doing something of religious importance to me and Jews around the world, but as a type of respectful honoring of a tradition in which they do not actually believe or take part. It's confusing. The idea of utilizing someone else's religion (or culture) is known as "appropriation."

You can see appropriation in numerous other recent examples--one being the cultural popularization in recent years, particularly among college students, of hosting events around the Hindu holiday of Holi. For those who are unaware, the current secular situation involves a bunch of young people heading outside and throwing a lot of colors (powder? paint?) on each other in the spring. It's a lot of fun, and leads to a lot of excellent pictures on Facebook. I have, honestly, regretted never being able to participate when it happened at my university.

But for others, the celebration of Holi is an actual part of their Hindu or Indian cultural tradition. It has meaning, somewhat related to the Hindu god, Krishna. It can also have a symbolic meaning of removing the difference between people and equalizing everyone by covering everyone in such a mix of colors so that everyone looks the same. I doubt that most people throwing paint on each other on their college quad, however, are thinking about these deeper meanings.

And what's wrong about this fun spring event? Or what's wrong about my Christian friends honoring Judaism by hosting a (Jew-free) Seder? Or rather--is there anything wrong with it?

I would like to make sure I clarify: I am so glad that these young Christian folks are interested in having a Seder. It is a big change from over 2,000 years of institutionalized antisemitism to now have Catholics who honestly want to celebrate Judaism, on their own and without provocation. Nor is this the first time a Christian friend of mine had been involved in a Passover Seder sans Jews. But it still makes me uncomfortable, and my friend knows this. It is in no way a negative commentary on her, but rather brings up a question about interfaith and sharing in others' traditions--how far is too far? Is there a limit? Should there be? I wish I could articulate why it causes a twinge of discomfort in my stomach. Why do you think this is? Anyone have suggestions? Please post it in the comments if you have words to describe how I might be feeling, because it's something I've grappled with since my other friend first told me about the "Christian" Seder she went to during college a few years back.

Some of you may not see this as a big issue, and I can completely understand that. But we can also look to the great backlash over the secularization of Christmas--"Keep Christ in Christmas!" or "Christmas is too commercialized" or "I say 'Merry Christmas,' not 'Happy Holidays!,'" often said with some type of annoyed implication that someone would dare utilize "their" holiday in a way they deem unfit. It's the same idea, though on a much larger scale.

I mean, we even see this all the time even within religions, right? I'm sure my Orthodox Jewish counterparts don't love how many Jews drive to synagogue on Yom Kippur, or spend Shabbat texting their friends. Infighting within religions is constant for a lot of reasons, but many of these have to do with different opinions on religious practice.

And yet, I am a Jew who loves Christmas--and purely on a secular level. Perhaps I am just as guilty of appropriation as anyone else. I think it might be because I have never realized my love for Christmas could be deemed "appropriation." So many Christians and non-Christians I know celebrate Christmas as a purely secular day, and so I've joined in. While it is not an excuse, the simple description is that this is how I was raised. We celebrated both Hanukkah and Christmas, but I knew that Christmas was not part of my specific Jewish tradition, and so we use it as a day to gather with family and exchange gifts, very simple and with minimal religious practice that day. But I would like to think that I also appreciated the religious significance the day holds for my mother, and I certainly participated in a few religious events around Christmas at church through the years.

So, what to do with my friend and her Christian Seder. I was always willing to help her plan a Seder, of course, but I want to make sure I go about it in a way that respects her honest desire to honor Judaism, while also respecting my desire to make sure her Seder deals with a Jewish holiday in a way that feels right. My first suggestion to her was to actually look up one of several groups I know exist in the D.C. area that are for families raising children in both the Catholic and Jewish traditions, as I imagine they will have a very appropriate Seder for a group of young Christians.

But what if she still wants to have a Seder with her Christian group...how should we do this? Should I discourage her from having it, unless she finds a Jewish person to help her (she lives in a different city than I do)? Okay, we know I'm not actually going to do that. Should I teach her as much as I can so that she can hold a Seder like I would hold a Seder if I was there? Or something else? I would love to hear thoughts from people of any and all faith traditions on this matter, because as I mentioned above, appropriation is a real, complicated topic that is worthy of discussion.

Now go out and love one another.

<3,
Allyson

Hatred at Costco: Not in My City

Hello, friends.

Have you ever been in a situation where someone says something, and you don't think of the perfect response until hours later? Maybe someone made a comment and you later think of the perfect joke to respond with, or someone insults you and it takes you a while to think of the perfect comeback, or someone hits on you at a Purim party and you think of the perfect teasing response as soon as they walk away (hypothetically). You've missed the moment. I think it happens to all of us.

One type of situation about which I get really annoyed with myself for failing to respond in the moment is when I miss the opportunity to defend someone--whether it was someone being teased when I was younger, or if now someone says something just a little too off-color or offensive to someone else. I hate it, and I want to speak up. Also, contrary to most people, I do not mind confrontation if it is justified, and I am so honest by nature it sometimes gets me in trouble. So if I do manage to think of a response in the moment, especially to defend someone, I'm willing to say it, and often actually can't avoid saying it.

So this morning I began my day as I begin most Sundays: annoyed because the cat I live with woke me up by meowing outside my door way too early. I then slowly became more friendly after I had some tea and eggs, before heading out to my car to run some errands in Queens. First stop: Costco.

Now, I love Costco. It's really impossible to explain why, I just do. But I don't always love it on Sunday, because the one nearest me is always packed. However, I really needed some things, so I decided to go and just not get a cart so that I could maneuver around everybody more quickly.

So I grabbed a few things and awkwardly held them all in my arms, then headed to the registers to pay. As I was standing there in line--trying not to look like I was struggling to hold two industrial-sized bottles of lotion--I realized I'd forgotten something. After swearing in my mind, I left the line and headed all the way to the back of the store to get some tomatoes.

It's funny how sometimes timing is everything. How even just a few minutes or even seconds can make a difference in the outcome of a situation. So while I was not happy to waddle back through a packed Costco with all of my things in my arms, in the end, I was glad I did.

Now I should describe the Costco I go to here in the city before I continue with my story: it represents a fair amount of the diversity in New York City. When I left my priest- and nun-filled university in Rome in June, I was glad to come home to my city, thinking that I could wear sundresses and not feel shamed for baring my shoulders (the scandal!). But then I went to this Costco in Queens for the first time, and realized many of the people there were very religious Orthodox Jews and Muslims. Oops! I still wear what I want, and (unlike in Rome), no one has commented yet, but I'm still aware of the high density of religious folks at Costco.

So when I returned to the same line after I'd gotten my last item, I was a few people further back in the line than I had been before. At the register at the front of the line was a group of three women, two in Muslim head scarves and one not, with an adorable and well-behaved little girl. They were moving through the register already, when the man directly in front of me (a white man, maybe in his late 50's or early 60's) asked one of the women to move her cart up more. The woman did so. One of the other women then asked her--in another language--what the man had wanted (this was clear through their gestures, I'm not sure what language they were speaking). After this exchange, the man turns around to me and says, very loudly and very obviously, "They should really learn to speak English."  One of the women immediately said, in perfect English, "We do speak English," to which I replied simply to him, "They seem nice enough, and they speak English."

I was so shocked.

It was clear he was not placated by my response, and wanted me to agree with him. I'm not sure exactly what more he said, but I can tell you that it was awkward when he was standing right behind the women at the register a few seconds later. When the ladies left, the one carrying the child said sarcastically, "Goodbye, sir!" and the little girl echoed "Goodbye!" I thought it was an amazing moment that, even if the little girl didn't understand what had gone on, she was still saying goodbye to this man who had been so rude the them. It's important, to the best of our ability, to still act according to our own values, even in the face of such horrible actions, because we never want to become like those who are so full of hate. It seemed pretty clear to me that he was most likely turned off because they were Muslim, and speaking another language. Basically, just because they were different from him.

Once the group of women left to head out to the parking lot, I refused to let the issue drop (because I was angry, and I wanted to call him out on his behavior). I looked at him as he waited for his change, from the cashier, and I said, "Why did you think that they don't speak English?" He responded by starting to yell at me, saying "Why are you in my business?" or something to that effect. I absolutely refused to let him have the last word, so that no matter what he said, I just replied, "There's no need to be rude" (in a polite and calm tone, in response to his yelling). It was insane how rude this man was being, first by commenting on the women, and then by yelling at me. Real classy gentleman, that one, and he didn't even have the guts to speak to the women directly.

It was cute how maybe he thought I would be intimidated by him, a tall man, standing over me and yelling (though could I really even call someone who treats women so terribly a "man?" Debatable.). I briefly wondered if he would've hit me if I was a man, and then I wished he actually would because I would've loved explaining to a police officer what had happened. He eventually just left.

I was glad that I was able to catch up with the group of women in the parking lot as they were loading their things into their car. I wanted to emphasize to them how sorry I was that they were treated that way, and I said, "I wanted you to know that we're not all jerks," though I'm not sure who I meant by "we." Americans? White people? I think I just meant humans, because one of the women's English was so good she was probably American herself anyway. I wanted them to know that there are humans who don't believe what this (clearly racist) man believes. Of course there's value to learning the primary language of the country in which you live, of course--but at least one of them spoke English, and it was clear that the man hadn't cared. They thanked me for standing up for them, and, before I headed off to my own car, they said, "We're used to it, it happens to us."

This made me incredibly sad. In the most diverse place possibly on the planet, these young women should have to face discrimination when they aren't doing anything, it just made me sad and makes me want to cry. In fact, I did cry on my way to my next errand, out of adrenaline and sadness. The only thing I wish I had done differently in the whole situations is that I wish I'd told the women that I'm Jewish, because I could've made a strong interfaith connection there as well, by showing people that, as a Jew, I feel compelled to act in a situation like this. But I'm just glad I managed to respond to the horrible man in the moment, and that I didn't let it slip by.

But I need to emphasize that my sharing this story is not about me--it's about you. I write this blog to share my experiences, yes, but not with a passive goal--it is not enough for you to read this blog; this is about action. This is about you reading and hopefully agreeing about the importance of interfaith relations and understanding the Other and letting it make you better, so that we can collectively make the world better. If you just read this blog, and don't really think about what it means and let it influence how you act, then I am failing at my ultimate goal. We absolutely need to stand up for those facing any kind of prejudice or unwarranted hatred. The Holocaust happened because too many good people did not have the courage to stand up, or felt that what was going on just "wasn't their business." It brings to mind an important quote by the prominent war-time Protestant pastor and anti-Hitler speaker, Martin Niemöller:
 
First they came for the Socialists, and I did not speak out—
Because I was not a Socialist.
 
Then they came for the Trade Unionists, and I did not speak out—
Because I was not a Trade Unionist.
 
Then they came for the Jews, and I did not speak out—
Because I was not a Jew.
 
Then they came for me—and there was no one left to speak for me.

When I called my father to tell him what had happened, the main thing I could get out was, "Not in my city." Not in my city will I stand by silent. Not in my city will I suffer bigots and racists and ignorant fools to say whatever they want, and think they can get away with it. I mean, I don't like it happening anywhere, but especially not in my home. It's just not gonna happen, and I hope you won't let it happen either.

Hmm, guess it looks like I have a new hashtag...

#notinmycity

Now go out and love one another.

<3,
Allyson

Food Traditions: Jewish Fall Holiday Foods

Hello, friends!

Food plays an important role in many religions and cultures. From turkey for Thanksgiving to chocolate eggs for Easter, it's clear that people often use food as a symbol of tradition and continuity in their various and several communities.

It will hopefully not come as a surprise for many of you that Judaism is no different, and let me just say...we sometimes eat some very strange things. Some would even deem them extremely unappetizing. As a very wise woman once said to me, "The Jews have already suffered so much. Why do they continue to suffer with these foods?" All joking aside, we've got some pretty good ones, too.

And now, here is a slightly-joking, ultimately-proud run-through of some traditional Jewish holiday foods in the fall (and others that are eaten all year round).

1. Gefilte Fish, All Holidays

Description: A grey-ish, chicken breast size-ish piece of mixed fish. Often served cold (my late Abuela [Catholic] used to eat it warm, but she was the only one I ever saw do so). Comes with transparent cold gel on top. And carrots. Some people add very spicy horseradish.

Why: This is one that gets a lot of non-Jews and Jews alike. Why? Why do we eat this? Not really sure, but I ate one at my aunt's house for Rosh Hashanah this past week. Bring on that cold slime!

2. Apples and Honey, Rosh Hashanah

Description: Literally just fresh apple slices dipped in little dishes of honey. No, I have never actually seen someone use one of those wooden honey stick things.

Why: Why not? (Also, to bring in a sweet new year, as Rosh Hashanah marks the beginning of the Jewish new year.) I literally had a snack of apples and honey today, even though the holiday is over.

3. Round Challah, Rosh Hashanah

Description: Challah is usually a type of braided bread, eaten on Shabbat but also pretty much any other time we can. It's only made round once a year, for Rosh Hashanah. In the U.S., it is often sweet and delicious, made with honey and a very light type of bread. In Rome, it was very different--more savory than sweet.

Why: Well, we have a blessing in Judaism, the motzi, over the bread. We do this at basically all occasions, like weddings and religious services, and very observant Jews would say it whenever bread is eaten at a meal. Like when asked to say most prayers in a group setting, it is considered an honor to recite the motzi with a group, like a wedding that honor might be given to one of the newlyweds' parents. When I attended liberal Jewish services in Rome one time, they very kindly asked me to say the motzi.

Also, at least in NY, challah french toast is a fancy thing and people of all religions eat it on Sunday mornings as hangover brunch food. L'chaim!

4. Chopped Liver, All Holidays

Description: Fat. In spreadable form. Eat with some type of bread thing.

Why: Now, this stuff can be delicious if it's made right. But it's also slowly killing us all by clogging our arteries. I think a lot of people probably cannot get over how fattening this is to even try it, but hey--holidays are for celebrating. Plus, as Tevye always says when he can't explain something about Judaism: tradition!


5. Bagels and Lox, Yom Kippur (and always)

Description: What it sounds like: bagels. Lots of them. Include cream cheese and smoked salmon (and tomato and sometimes onion). Happiness. My family has (no joke) overnight shipped bagels to family members outside of NY in the past, because we love NY bagels so much.

Why: Yom Kippur is meant to be a reflective holiday, one on which we all focus upon our mistakes of the past year, seek forgiveness from those we have wronged, and vow to be better in the coming year so that G-d inscribes us in the Book of Life (and so we'll live another year). It's coming up on October 4th (which means we begin fasting at sundown on the 3rd).

What does this have to do with bagels? Well, all day you're meant to not think about vain things (no showering or mirrors) and fast (no eating or drinking anything, except for medical reasons). Also no cooking or watching TV or listening to music, etc. Now, I'm pretty sure many of the folks in shul on Yom Kippur morning spent more than a little time getting ready in the bathroom ahead of time (since particularly in liberal Jewish circles, Yom Kippur is probably the day you're guaranteed to go temple and see everyone else, possibly just this one day a year), but nonetheless many people would prefer to at least not have to cook on a reflective day such as this. And so, many people order in bagels and lox (and other things, sometimes quiche or chicken salad, etc.).

My disclaimer for this is that a whole wheat bagel with lox and cream cheese is literally my favorite food on the planet, which means Yom Kippur was always my favorite holiday. Not allowed to do work or schoolwork, forced to think or read all day, you spend time with family, and then by sundown you're starving, and the main dish is? My favorite food on the planet. And lots of it. In all seriousness, I do reflect and take serious time to consider how I can improve myself going forward, and while I will drive so that I can be home with my family, I will not turn on music or anything and spend the quiet time alone in the car thinking and reflecting.

And then...bagels.


Any funky food traditions you want to share, from either your religious or non-religious identity and culture? Post images or descriptions in the comments!

Now go out and love one another.

<3,
Allyson

A Zoroastrian Interfaith Wedding!

Hello, friends!

I wanted to share a blog post I wrote that was recently posted on the blog for the NYU multifaith office, for those who have not yet seen it. It's about my friend's Zoroastrian wedding last month, which was pretty amazing!

Here's the link: http://www.nyuofmany.org/2014/08/15/my-incredible-experience-at-a-zoroastrian-wedding/

Shavua tov--let's all make it a good week! Now go out and love one another.

<3,
Allyson

Israel and Palestine: The Neverending Conflict

Hello, friends.

A topic that I avoid most days: Israel and Palestine. But not lately.

It's the epitome of a situation that could use some more interfaith relations, and yet I often find myself avoiding it as much as possible for a variety of reasons.

One of these is that I cannot pretend to offer any advanced opinion on the political situation in the Middle East. I would describe myself as an educated lay person, at best. I have heard the Israeli/Jewish side my entire life, via my synagogue, Hebrew School, Jewish sources, etc., it's true. I traveled to Israel in January-February of this year on an interfaith (but also, to a large extent, Jewish-focused) trip. I took a course on the situation of Jerusalem earlier this year, which, was taught by an American Jewish man, though offered a fairly balanced view of the situation. I have also spoken about the conflict with some close friends and family, including a good friend of mine, a very religious Christian who sympathizes more with the Palestinian side.

Regardless of my own personal opinions, I want to express my frustration. My frustration that these peoples cannot live peacefully in the land that should be the exemplar of peace. Frustration that we can never really know if the media is telling us the truth--I have seen news reports alleging almost opposite accounts of various events over there (Did Israel fire first, or Hamas?). Frustration that people think it's okay to then blame all Jews, around the world, for Israel's actions, and so offer an excuse for their blatant antisemitism (I'm mainly looking at you, Europe). Frustration that we cannot reach a resolution. And frustration that people on both sides too often refuse to even attempt to understand the other perspective.

I was once asked in a job interview what really makes me mad. For those who know me, I am a fairly even-keeled person--I keep my head in a crisis, do not often get too overwhelmed or unhappy, but manage to maintain a level of calm, even in a debate. But there is one thing that really angers me: intolerance as a result of intentional ignorance. I hate hearing people say ignorant things without having the humility to accept that maybe they do not know everything. This comes up when talking about antisemitism, or certain religions, or, yes, the Middle East.

My aforementioned Christian friend and I disagree, it's true. She reads the reports that favor Palestine--she largely believes them. I read the reports that favor Israel--I largely believe them. But we can talk about these issues reasonably, learn from one another, and admit that both sides have done things with which we personally disagree. It's a fruitful discussion.

But too often, those who might have one view about the conflict are not willing to even entertain my opinions. How do we progress if we do not listen to the other side? As I mentioned above, I acknowledge that I have had a biased source of information about the conflict for most of my life, I offer that upfront in any discussion--but I also want to learn, and I seek to understand many viewpoints about the situation. I fear that many do not afford me the same consideration in these discussions, which is another reason I shy away from these discussions. I think some people would discount my opinion about the situation because of my religion. "Oh, well you're Jewish, of course you support Israel," without even offering me the consideration of listening, really listening, to some of my arguments. This is not only an issue regarding the Middle East, of course--plenty of people hold their opinions, and do not actually care what other people have to say. But it seems particularly bad with this issue.

I am not sure how aware non-Jews are of the dialogue in the American Jewish community, but most Jewish discussions I hear want a peaceful, two-state solution, even while most Jews would probably say they support Israel. The facts show that every time over the past century these peoples have been offered a two-state solution, Jews have accepted it and the Palestinians have rejected it. That's a fact. Hamas, the ones sending the rockets into Israel, is notably antisemitic--not just anti-Israel, but anti-Jews in general, with some saying they want to destroy all Jews everywhere: http://www.adl.org/anti-semitism/muslim-arab-world/c/hamas-in-their-own-words.html.

Meanwhile, most of what I see coming from my Jewish sources are prayers for peace. On Shabbat, our weekly day of rest, at the end of Shabbat, throughout the week, everything says, "Shabbat Shalom, may there be peace" or "Shavua tov, may there be peace this week." There are of course extremists who favor Israeli action that would end this war, once and for all--because I don't think anyone doubts that Israel has the ability to at any moment bomb and destroy the Palestinian territories and people, and so end this once and for all. But most reasonable people--Jews--cry out for peace. I know there are Palestinians who want it, too--but where are those voices? Why do I not hear them? I frequently say to my pro-Palestine friends: Please, send me these articles, show me that Palestinians want peace. And so I say this to all of you reading this: add your comments to this blog, add your articles showing this; I want to learn. I want to believe there are people on all sides longing for peace.

This blog post comes about as a result of a homily I heard recently. I attended a fairly young, vibrant congregation called Romemu on the Upper West Side last week for Shabbat. The rabbi, David Ingber, had just returned from several weeks in Israel (what a turbulent time to be there). You all surely know that this conflict began when three Israeli teenage boys were kidnapped and killed, apparently by Palestinians. The Palestinian Authority president condemned this, but, as this article explains, his condemnation somewhat focused on criticizing Israel's reaction to the kidnapping rather than simply the heinous crime that prompted their reaction. The second article also explains how hateful cartoons started appearing from leading Palestinian political party Fatah, basically celebrating the kidnapping. For example, this one is a spoof on the World Cup logo, with the three boys captured in the hands:

There were others as well, including one depicting the three boys as mice caught on hooks of a fishing rod. As I sit here writing this, I try not to cry once again, since I cannot imagine how anyone could celebrate the sick kidnapping of these young men. And for what? I find it hard myself to figure out how we can negotiate across both sides, when the people in the Palestinian leadership are either supporting celebratory cartoons like these, or are at least complicit in them. I will try to take heart from the courage of those with perhaps more strength than I have right now.

So the rabbi at Romemu last week told a story about how his beloved teacher-rabbi had died close to the same time that Jewish extremists killed that young Palestinian man (which Israeli leaders, and even Jewish relatives of one of the slain Israeli boys, condemned strongly) in retaliation for the murder of the three Israeli boys. This rabbi, in Israel and mourning with other students of his recently-deceased rabbi, heard about the murder of this young Palestinian. And what did this group of Jews do, while sitting Shiva in the middle of Jerusalem, with riots building in East Jerusalem amongst the Palestinians? They decided to sneak illegally over to East Jerusalem, risking their lives to do so...in order to mourn with the family of the Palestinian who was killed.

Now that's interfaith.

I started to cry as Rabbi Ingber told his story, and it still moves me, even now.* This is the kind of thing that could lead to an end to this conflict. Not the cartoons glorifying the murder of children. Not the people who refuse to listen to my opinions, or your opinions, or anyone's opinions. Not the extremists--on both sides--who think that just wiping out "all Jews" or "all Palestinians" is okay. Because it's not.

So, as the truce is extended for another five days, and leaders try so hard to find a peaceful solution to this conflict, let us take heart. Let us, in our own lives, practice a little more active listening when we discuss the conflict, and really try to understand those we speak with. Let us all pray, or meditate, or just send out good vibes, that those in positions of power will have just a little more humility themselves, and a little more acceptance, and listen to the other side. And hopefully let it move them towards a lasting, true, peace.

Now go out and love one another.

<3,
Allyson

---
*If you are interested in listening to the 24-minute homily that Rabbi Ingber gave, it is available online: https://romemu.org/sermons/vaetchanan/g-d-said-no

Live from New York...

it's Sunday night!

Hello, friends!

As you may have gathered from the title, I have made the move back across the ocean and into New York City. I actually flew back six weeks ago today...which is insane, because it does not feel possible that six weeks have passed by so quickly. These past few weeks have been insane. Life is insane. But good! And #interfaithallthetime, of course.

So I got back from Rome on June 8th, a Sunday, and moved into my new apartment in the city seven days later on June 15th, so that was a week of "quick, unpack, do laundry, repack" like you wouldn't believe. Then I started work the next day, on June 16th. What craziness, but at least the quick turnaround (and being forced to wake up at 6:30 a.m. for the gym and work) helped me beat jet lag fairly quickly this time around. Woohoo!

At the moment, I am actually working for two different interfaith organizations, though after the summer I think things will settle down and I will probably transition to full-time at one of them. Both groups are doing excellent but different interfaith-y things: one is an interfaith office at a university, working to get college students to dialogue across faith boundaries, while the other brings together different faith groups (Catholic, Sikh, Jewish, Muslim, etc.) to raise money to help refugees suffering as a result of the war in Syria. Things I've done so far include attending a lecture by a Syrian refugee at JTS (the Conservative rabbinical school in NYC), chatting with an imam (and gushing over his extremely adorable daughter), questioning my Orthodox Jewish colleagues constantly, and generally just settling back into NYC life. The contrast between Italy ("Hmmm, maybe I'll wake up at 10 a.m.--should I get a cappuccino? Maybe I'll just buy some flowers in the piazza before class") to NYC ("I can't believe I have not slept more than 6.5 hours for weeks, I need to catch the subway, quick, go go go") has been amusing, but totally fine. And exhausting.

So I started work back in June, everything was going well for the first few days, and then I fell fairly ill right before July 4th. Those fun times lasted about 10 days (during which I had to miss a day of work, force myself to eat whatever I thought wouldn't make me nauseous, and cancel lots of fun things, like seeing the fireworks!). As soon as I was better, I headed home for a scheduled weekend visit with my parents, and my godparents and their son. I've also been seeing numerous friends all around the city, from high school and from Rome and from college--it's all been crazy, but crazy good!

In terms of personal religious/interfaith-y things (beyond constantly talking about religion and feminism and interfaith with anyone who is willing to talk about it), I went to a Reform synagogue on Friday night! I recently came to realize that because I went to college in southern Virginia, and have lived across the pond in Europe a few times, I have not lived in a place with Reform Jews (for any prolonged period of time) for the last five years! Everyone at the shul was very friendly, but I also plan to do some synagogue hopping around the city over the next few months to experience different temples. Yay!

Also, this coming week marks the wedding of one of my close friends. It's an interfaith ceremony, but will mainly be led by a Zoroastrian priest. So in addition to being excited/busy traveling down to D.C./freaking out (this is one of my first friends to get married), I'll get to have some interfaith excitement, too, and experience a Zoroastrian service. There's also a 99% chance of showers in the form of me sobbing at the wedding, since I am sure it will be beautiful. I know both the bride and the groom from college, which is also really nice. What a great week ahead!

As a side bar, we are all aware that fighting has broken out again in Israel, so here's my short prayer  that the conflict will end swiftly. This type of religious/cultural fighting makes my heart sad, and is kind of why I do what I do--a lot of misunderstandings in the name of religion have exacerbated the conflict (combined with countless historical/political/complicated things, yes, I know), but hopefully one day everyone will find a way to love and respect each other. It's important to take heart from pieces like this one from The Jewish Daily Forward showing how individuals overcome conflict to treat each other as humans.

Take some time to meditate away from the craziness of life when you can (advice I am trying to give myself). Send up some prayers for everyone suffering in the Middle East, and everywhere, if that's your style. And, as always, go out and love one another.

<3,
Allyson

A Friday Night in Rome

Hello, friends.

I had the excellent opportunity on a recent Friday night to attend a Catholic mass...in Hebrew!

Now, I've been to an extremely high number of Catholic masses in my life, and in particular this year--whether it was for the opening of the academic year at my university back in the fall, or in a cave with our group of fellows when we were in Israel in January, or to support my (soon-to-be-ordained) seminarian friend when he recently gave a homily here in Rome. So when I met a nice priest (Fr. Steve) back at an audience with Pope Francis in April who invited me to come to mass in Hebrew once he found out I was Jewish, I was a bit reluctant. I very often enjoy seeing services of other faiths, but it was just feeling like a lot of Catholicism at that point, and I needed a bit of a break. However, after a few weeks, the priest shot me an e-mail letting me know that the final Hebrew mass of this school year was coming up, in case I wanted to come. I was free that Friday night, so I decided to don some appropriate-for-church clothing (despite the heat) and head out to meet him at the Pantheon to walk to mass together.

A photo I took at our university's audience with Papa F on April 10th

And I am so glad I went. Before the mass started, I was able to meet with a few of the people who would be attending. Everyone greeted me warmly, and seemed delighted to find out I was Jewish, which makes sense since in a lot of ways, this was a group of Catholics trying to honor their Jewish roots. The main celebrant was a priest from Belgium, and he and I had a nice short chat about where I came from and such.

The group attending was small, around ten people. We met in a small chapel at a residence for Jesuits, a little white room with minimal but very nice adornments, and sat in a semi-circle of chairs surrounding the altar. Almost everyone at the mass were priests, with one lay lady and myself. The mass is held on Friday nights to honor the start of the Jewish Sabbath, Shabbat, and opened with the lady lighting candles, similar to how a Jewish person would to open Shabbat. The mass is usually in all Hebrew and Italian, and they threw in some English since I was there (not realizing I speak Italian). Some of the prayers (over the Eucharist and the wine) opened in actually the same Hebrew wording as the hamotzi and kiddush (over the bread and the wine) in Judaism. It was pretty neat.

The main celebrant gave a short homily, in which he said some moving things. He explained that the mass was "special because Allyson is here, she's Jewish and wanted to come pray with us." Knowing where I come from, he also said, "Let us pray for the Jewish communities of New York City and the surroundings, the Orthodox, Reform, Conservative, and the more liberal." He explained how once Jerusalem and Alexandria were the centers of worldwide Jewry and Jewish learning, and how now it is Jerusalem and New York. Also, he discussed the then-impending trip of Pope Francis to Israel, and the importance of dialogue. To hear a Catholic priest, in a room of mostly young priests, talk about something so touching and so vital, to welcome me so honestly, at a Hebrew service in the center of Rome and thus worldwide Catholicism, was a critical example of how it only take one person (or a small group of people) to really positively impact interfaith relations. I am sure the memories from this mass will stay with me for a long time.

Perhaps not a typical Friday night activity, but definitely a worthwhile one.

After the mass, a Brazilian priest who lived in the building took us up to the roof to show us their incredible view of the city of Rome. I've got to tell you--I've now been to the top of a hill overlooking the city called Gianicolo (a few times), climbed the dome of St. Peters, and gone on the roofs of the British College (where the British priests live), the North American College (where the American priests live), and now the Jesuit residence, Casa Bellarmino, and all I can say is that these priests have the best views of Rome.

The view from Casa Bellarmino--that's St. Peter's in the distance

As I finish up my last twelve days (!) in Rome, I am starting to reflect on what this year has meant to me, and where I am going from here. I am sure this introspection will continue for a long time, but for now, I know that I've learned a lot, met some great people that I will miss, and that I'm excited for these interfaith opportunities to continue when I move back to New York in just a few weeks.

Now go out and love one another.

<3,
Allyson

Interfaith Means Defending the Other

Hello, friends.

A belated Happy Passover, Happy Easter, and Happy Everything to everybody. I hope all of those who celebrate had good spring holidays.

The past three weeks have been very eventful in a lot of ways. On the one hand, I had an excellent visit with my parents during my spring break, as we traveled all around Italy. We ate dinner overlooking Florence, visited the Jewish ghetto in Venice (from which the word "ghetto" actually originates), stayed directly on Lake Como, and went on a brilliant hike between two towns in Cinque Terre.

A photo of the town of Vernazza taken during our
(challenging, over-a-mountain, sunny) hike last week

But as excellent as our trip was, I could not help but feel worry and sadness as I read the news stories about the numerous, horrible antisemitic things that seemed to all be taking place over the past few weeks.

The worst of these antisemitic events took place on April 13th: a deadly shooting spree in Kansas at a Jewish community center and a Jewish retirement home by a white supremacist, with previous links to the KKK. The man, 72-year-old Frazier Glenn Cross, opened fire at the two locations, eventually killing a 14-year-old boy, the young man's grandfather, and another middle-aged woman. Apparently as he was arrested he shouted "Heil Hitler." While I've been living in Europe, I have heard non-Americans make hurtful jokes about the gross number of shootings in our country, and it is unfortunately a constant problem that has only gotten worse in the past few years. Often, though, the shootings seem to have more to do with the shooter having a mental illness--this time, it was specifically a hate crime (though perhaps combined with some mental illness). You can read more here. Ironically, none of the three individuals he murdered were Jewish; they were all Christian. Such a tragedy.

Also around the same date, it emerged that a teacher in a London school told a misbehaving teenage Jewish girl that if the girl didn't behave, the teacher was going to send her "to one of your gas chambers." This, in a supposedly progressive city, and in a school with a supposedly sizable Jewish student population. You can read a brief article on the incident here. According to the articles I've read, details on what, if any, disciplinary action has been taken against the teacher are not being released.

Another frightening thing that took place right around the same time happened as Jews in Donetsk, in Eastern Ukraine, were emerging from synagogue services on Passover, when they were met by masked individuals who handed them pamphlets explaining that they had to register with a government agency. Here is a USA Today article from April 17 explaining what went on. As Michael Salberg, director of the international affairs at the New York City-based Anti-Defamation League, is quoted in the article as saying, "Jews are the default scapegoat throughout history for despots to send a message to the general public: Don't step out of line." It was extremely frightening when the news first came out, as it harkens back to the way Nazis and their supporters gathered information about the Jewish people during World War II in order to more effectively persecute them. Not to mention the fact that the Ukraine is not too far from where I live here in Rome--this wasn't happening in some vague, far-off place I couldn't conceive of, it's happening here, in Europe. It has since emerged that this was some type of political hoax being used in the political upheaval in that region and not an actual requirement for the Jewish people of the city, though the fact that people would use antisemitic fear in order to wage political battles is disturbing at best.

I sometimes feel a bit uncomfortable and careful about how I defend Judaism in situations like these. It feels like, because I am defending my own group, it might come across as me overreacting, like I am too personally connected to the issue to see it clearly. But since I specifically research antisemitism in Europe, and keep track of it in the US, it is pretty clear that is has never gone away, and incidents like these are unfortunately not isolated but part of a larger trend. However, I do think it often comes across much more strongly when members of other groups defend groups that are being persecuted--like when my friends stick up for Judaism, or I for other groups. Here is a great quote by Eboo Patel, the founder and leader of the Interfaith Youth Core in the USA:

 

I feel a personal responsibility to defend people suffering persecution--whether that is in some big way by trying to fight discrimination on a larger scale, or in small ways by looking at my own failings. I have never cared very much what people think of me, which makes it significantly easier for me to speak up when I see something that comes across as wrong. It is not always easy, and I am not even saying that I always succeed--far from it--but I feel an absolute moral imperative to do so, whatever religious (or other) group is being abused in any way. Especially as a Jewish person, given our teachings and our history of discrimination and persecution, I rarely manage to stay quiet when someone makes comments about other groups.

Do you feel this moral responsibility? Would you speak up if someone said Muslims are horrible people? Or that Christians are filled with hatred? Or that gay people are going to hell? Or that Jews are going to hell? How would you respond? I know sometimes social protocol implies that we should hold our tongues, not raise an issue when someone says something casually that just rubs you the wrong way. But I, at least, think that their biases break social protocol and demand action on the part of others. I fear that if we let people get away with their hate speech without challenge, that these problems will just continue and escalate--as they did in Kansas and other places around the world. This is the heart of interfaith: speak up.

So please, think about what you would do if someone made a comment in front of you--because believe me, when someone from another groups defends me or anyone, it makes a big difference.

Now go out and love one another.

<3,

Allyson

 Our interfaith souvenir from Venice!

Feminism and the Bechdel Test

Hello, friends.

Over the past few months, it seems feminism has resurfaced in my life. Whether it's because many of my close girlfriends have graduated college, like me, and entered into the "real world" with all of its associated challenges (particularly for females), or because of other random coincidences in the universe, it has come to the forefront of more and more of my discussions lately. I regularly receive articles about feminism via text from different female friends, get e-mails with links to inspiring TED Talks about women from others, and have had a few exchanges about The Bechdel Test with a (very patient) male friend of mine. Since many (if not all?) religions treat men and women differently, sometimes in good ways and sometimes in bad, this topic is highly relevant in an interfaith context.

Let me establish right upfront that I am by no means what I would call a "militant" feminist. I am even almost loathe to describe myself as a "feminist" because of all the negative associations with the term because of people who take the cause too far. The exact definition of "feminism," according to Merriam-Webster, is "the belief that men and women should have equal rights and opportunities." Not that women should dominate men...and not that men should dominate women. Equality, that's what it's supposed to all be about. There are numerous issues to discuss, so for now I will start with the Bechdel Test, and continue in later posts to look at other feminist issues and how we can use feminism in an interfaith context.

The Bechdel Test

I am a self-described lover of movies, and I love all different types--action, rom coms, mysteries, indies, etc. So when I was first introduced to the idea of the Bechdel Test, and started using this test to evaluate movies, I grew fairly disheartened about our supposedly "modern" society. This test, which grew out of one short comic strip from 1985, is a simple way to judge female presence in a film. The test in no way decides whether the film is a good one, or if it represents women in a positive light, or indeed anything beyond the simple fact of female presence in the story. The requirements for a movie to pass the Bechdel Test are: 1. That there are at least two [named] female characters 2. who talk to one another [for more than thirty seconds] 3. about something other than a man.* Easy, right? Nope.

How many romantic comedies have young women loved, cried, watched over and over again, as if the whirlwind romances will come true in real life if we just watch The Notebook one more time? If you look back at a lot of the rom coms, you might realize that the women only talk to one another about men. Superhero movies sometimes have a few "token" female characters--but they are all too often dressed in tight, revealing leather outfits, and they rarely have another female character to talk with about anything. Action films are pretty obviously male-dominated.

Here's Scarlett Johansson as Black Widow from The Avengers in extremely tight, low-cut leather. That movie has three named women, none of whom talk to one another.

 

It's distressing to think about how little representation women have in films as strong people, able to succeed in life, independently and sometimes in spite of men. Is it so much to ask that movies accurately represent the many aspects of female life, and not just the part about romantic relationships? I doubt that there are more than a handful of films that don't have men interacting with other men. Can you imagine? A film with only one guy, the movie is completely about the women, and he just talks to the women sometimes. I can tell you one thing: traditional wisdom and statistics indicate that men wouldn't go see a movie like that, but women are willing to watch films almost exclusively about men. But is that even the case? This article in The Guardian suggests that is no longer the case.

It's a sad commentary on our society if we are willing to accept this status quo as it is. Since many faiths also teach about the dignity of all human beings, shouldn't religious folks also feel the need to combat this obvious of an oversight? If Hollywood started producing more balanced films, people would see them--media plays a large role in social change. I wonder what would happen if A-list actors refused to be in movies that didn't pass the test, or if the public refused to see the movies. For those who are interested in checking out how different movies stack up, you can check out this fairly extensive Bechdel Test website (please note, the ratings are not perfect, since the website allows anyone to leave reviews, but it's a good starting point for looking at how our favorite movies fall). Fortunately enough, my favorite movie passes the test, so I will have to be content with that for now. :)

I was recently told by one of my priest-professors (who majored in performing and fine arts in college) that there is a type of unspoken rule in Hollywood that, unless the film is about religion specifically, they try to keep references to religion fairly general so that they do not inadvertently ostracize people who are not part of that particular faith. So I've been thinking about some movies with religious references, through this feminist lens.

One of the most obvious movies with a religious tilt and a favorite of mine is A Walk to Remember, a 2002 movie with Mandy Moore and Shane West. Without giving too much away, it shows how the pious daughter of a Christian minister grows close with a rebellious young man, and how he changes for the better as a result of their interactions. The Bechdel website gives this a positive rating, but really the only reason it passes is because twice, the "mean" girl in school, who is angry with Mandy Moore for "stealing" Shane West away, comments sarcastically on her modest clothing: "Nice sweater!" "Thanks." barely seems like it should count as "female interaction" to me, especially when the underlying meaning was, "You stole my boyfriend and you're too religious." So it's not even positive female interaction. That said, the film clearly shows Mandy Moore as an intelligent woman, sure of herself, who adheres to the tenets of her faith. But there are still more conversations between men than there are between women in this film.

Albeit briefly, the 2012 film The Avengers brings religion into the equation. As most people know, there are two "gods," Thor and Loki, in the film. One causes havoc, the other fights for peace. They are not discussed in any religious sense, until this exchange between the Black Widow (Scarlett Johansson) and Captain America (a positive figure, a stereotyped male from the '40s with a lot of American pride and honorable, old-fashioned values):

[Captain America puts on a parachute to go follow after Thor, Loki, and Iron Man]

Black Widow: I'd sit this one out, Cap.

Captain America: I don't see how I can.

Black Widow: These guys come from legend. They're basically gods.

Captain America: There's only one G-d, ma'am, and I'm pretty sure He doesn't dress like that.

[Captain America leaps out of the Quinjet]

The line made many of the religious girls in the audience instantly fall in love with Captain America (or was that just me?), but as mentioned above in the picture caption--this film doesn't pass, since none of the named women speak to one another. So we have film that offers a nod to mainstream American monotheism, ignores the polytheistic/Norse/pagan references to Thor and Loki as gods, and have very few women, all of whom are dressed in tight outfits. Not such a success for women.

Of course, the 1971 film Fiddler on the Roof deserves a mention. For those who haven't seen it, this film details the experience of Jews facing religious persecution in eastern Europe in the early 20th century. It's an excellent film, and one that presents an interesting perspective on Judaism and how it adapts to changing times. But does it pass the test? Though it is not on the Bechdel Test website, I suspect it might--if only because at the end two sisters say goodbye to one another. Literally, I think all other conversations by women are focused on finding husbands ("Matchmaker, matchmaker, make me a match..."), though perhaps there are brief mentions of the troubles facing the Jews in the town. It was a different time period...but still, much as I love the movie, it could use some discussion amongst the women about other issues. (Incidentally, I just watched Fiddler a few weeks ago one Saturday night with a group from one of my classes. Let's just say, hearing one of the priests sing along to "Matchmaker" makes my world a brighter place.)

There are numerous other religious films we could talk about, these were just some that came to mind. So even religious films, despite the fact that Christianity and Judaism (the two main faiths represented in the above three movies) emphasize the dignity of all, do not always give due representation to women. It's extremely unfortunate.

So the next time you head out to see a movie, take a minute to evaluate it. Does it even, at the bare minimum, have two named female characters, talking about something or somebody other than a man? I hope so. This is a problem for minority religious groups as well, which are grossly underrepresented in film, but the fact that women--who form half of the population--are considered for this a "minority" group is a sad thing in today's day and age. We need to change this. We need to make a conscious effort to get female presence in films.

Now go out and love one another.

<3,
Allyson

---

*Please note, for a movie to pass the Bechdel Test, some do not require that the female characters have names, or that the conversations should last for at least thirty seconds. If the main Bechdel Test website listed above required the thirty-second thing, I imagine the number of movies that pass on their website would go down quite dramatically.

Updates on Living the Interfaith Life

Hello, friends!

I recently decided that if I had a hashtag for my life, it would be #interfaithallthetime.* And I love it.  So I figured I'd do a quick rundown of the latest happenings that prove this fact true:

1. The Pope (here's a cool article) is coming to visit my university on April 10th. No joke. Here's to hoping I manage to get a selfie with him.

2. I went to a Holocaust modern art exhibit in late February with a friend of mine who is in seminary here in Rome, after he saw a poster for it. It was small, but I very much appreciated some of the pieces for their colors and difficult deeper meanings.

3. I saw nuns hitting a piñata at a Mexican-themed party, about a half-hour before our hosts passed out tequila shots (and no, I did not witness nuns doing tequila shots, sadly enough).

4. On a short trip to Barcelona this past week with a Christian college friend, we had a lot of interfaith experiences: We went to a church that had geese walking around in the courtyard, a basilica called La Sagrada Familia which might be the coolest church ever, the oldest synagogue in Europe which is in a tiny underground room in the center of Barcelona, and Reform Jewish services. I have to say, after years of researching Judaism and antisemitism in Spain, which included doing a summer research project, writing a lengthy journalism article, and writing an undergraduate honors thesis, this trip (my first to Spain) was fulfilling on so many levels. Spanish Jews! They exist! And I got to go to services with Jews in Barcelona! Pretty incredible.

The incredible Sagrada Familia basilica in Barcelona

The gorgeous colors of some of the stained glass windows

5. My (Catholic) mother wrote in a Torah, something most Jews will never even do. Our Temple apparently is a guardian of a Holocaust scroll (news to me!), a Torah that was presumably part of a synagogue in Europe that was affected and perhaps destroyed under the horrifying conditions of the Holocaust. In an effort to restore the scroll, our temple held a fundraiser where, by sponsoring a letter or a word, you could help guide the sofer's (Torah scribe's) hand while he wrote out part of the scroll. With my father out of town on business, and me living across the pond this year, my mother decided to participate in honor of both of us. I've heard the comparison that the Torah in Judaism and the Qur'an in Islam play similar functions to the role of Jesus in Christianity (as the way to get closest to G-d, the most revered part of the faith, etc.), so this was truly a once-in-a-lifetime type of experience. I am so glad that not only was my mother touched by participating, but that our synagogue offered this opportunity for people to really experience a critical part of Judaism so closely.

Mama Z with the Sofer

6. On our weekly Monday-night outing to the quiz at our local Irish pub this week, my flatmate and I were joined by two of our seminarian friends. We had a lovely time, but had to stop the gentlemen from trying to cheat by looking up the answers on their smartphones (apparently that morality class they took didn't stick too well).

7. Friday night we're hosting a Purim party in our apartment, complete with a whole mix of friends of different faiths. Wish me luck on my first-ever attempt at making hamantaschen...

Life here is really #interfaithallthetime.

How about all of you? Any interesting interfaith/ecumenical/neat religious experiences to share? Feel free to post about them in the comments.

Now go out and love one another.

<3,
Allyson

---
*A hashtag, for those who are unaware, is a phrase following the pound symbol [#] that sums up an idea and groups together other peoples' comments on the same idea. It's used on websites like Twitter and Facebook. For more info, you can read the Wikipedia page on the topic.

Individuality in Religion?

Hello, friends.

Everybody is unique, right? We have different personalities, different opinions, different perspectives, different paradigms through which we view the world. Not to say that there aren't similarities, but I doubt that it is even slightly close to possible to find somebody with the exact same views on everything (if you find that person, keep them forever). So I'm wondering to what degree individual opinion and choice does, or does not, play a role in religion.

Last week was the first week of classes for the new semester, which means I began a course called "The Teaching of Theology and Religious Communication." It is a required course for my program, so I did not really give it much thought before last Tuesday morning, but it turns out it's a class about how to teach (obvious enough once I read the title again). Considering the fact that I have always adamantly claimed that I do not want to be a teacher, this was surprisingly okay with me. When people ask me about what I do, what interfaith relations really means, it generally involves some element of knowing how to properly "teach" about religious topics, both that are a part of my own as well as a part of other religious traditions. I found the class, taught by a priest, extremely interesting--not least of all because he showed us a video called "The Butterfly Circus" without telling us anything about it in advance. So I leave it here similarly with no introduction, except to say that it deals with individual difference and choice, it's not about religion, I found it inspiring, and it is twenty minutes long (but worth it, if you have the time).* Even if you aren't able to watch that video right now, I think that individual opinion and agency is a topic that we can all ruminate on.

In terms of the importance of the individual and choice, it's important to remember that I'm certainly coming from a more liberal religious perspective. I can largely believe what I want to believe on modern issues like gay marriage and abortion. I do not keep kosher, so I am not limited in what I eat. I feel quite free in my religion to be who I want to be, and believe what I want to believe, but with the support of a worldwide progressive Jewish community. But what about those who are more strictly religious and so are meant to subscribe to a list of specific beliefs, whether that is in Judaism or another faith? I would like to discuss a case example to explain what I mean.

As a strong supporter of gay marriage myself, I would not feel comfortable attending a synagogue that preached against this. I often wonder how supporters of gay marriage, or gay individuals who are raised in the Catholic Church or any other group that somehow condemns homosexuality, deal with reconciling their feelings with their religion. I know many leave the Church.

But am I really free in Reform Judaism? What if, for example, I did not support gay marriage? Attending a liberal, Reform Jewish synagogue in New York State would not be out of the question, but I might be judged harshly for my opinion if it were to be made known. Plus, the Reform movement of Judaism does officially support gay marriage...so perhaps if I disagreed, I would similarly feel at odds with the establishment.

This case study aside, the idea of individuality in religion comes up because of my heavy involvement in Catholicism while I am here in Rome. I meet numerous priests, deacons, Catholic lay people, all of whom at least hypothetically agree with the Church's teaching on not only gay marriage, but also birth control, sex outside of marriage, the future salvation (or not) of people, proper times and frequency with which one should attend church, etc. And yet I have met many, many people throughout my life who consider themselves Catholic and yet do not agree with some of these lines of thinking. Sometimes people just ignore the conflicting views--they might continue to use birth control, for example, but still attend church regularly. Others feel ostracized for their beliefs and might not fully participate in the community. I once sat down for an interview with an Episcopal minister, and she said that she liked her part of Christianity because, "I don't have to check my brain at the door." It was an interesting, if blunt, statement, and I have given some thought to it since that interview, and how it relates to this question of individual opinion in a system like Catholicism.

I am not making an overall value judgment on the worth of individuality in religion. For many people, having this strict structure of a faith and associated beliefs is an important way in which to organize their world, and I can see the comfort in that. There is definitely some sense of stability in everyone believing the same things, doing the same things, being the same in at least this aspect of their lives. But for me, this strict form of telling me what to think would be untenable. I sometimes describe Reform as the "religion for secular people," with its generally liberal social opinions but the traditional community institutions of a religion. But if all of a sudden the movement started trying to tell me what to think about certain things, I would probably be extremely uncomfortable with it.

So what do you think? Does your religion or belief system encourage individual differences of opinions? Does it take a stance on contemporary political issues? Could you ever just ignore something coming out of your faith establishment that you felt so strongly was just wrong?

Now go out and love one another.

<3,
Allyson 

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*Regarding the short film above, I have to wonder: if the individual struggling was gay, would a priest be showing it in our class? I am not sure.

An Interfaith Visit to Israel

Hello, friends.

I recently returned from a very intense, extremely busy nine-day trip to Israel. This visit was part of my fellowship, so it was the first trip in a while where I barely had to think about logistics at all as we were shuttled from place to place and fed huge buffets of delicious food constantly. I imagine over the next few weeks I will reflect on the trip in more detail, but I wanted to share some of my initial thoughts here before I completely over-think everything (which will happen, trust me).

The first is that Israel felt like a dream. For years, in Hebrew School, in conversations, basically every conversation having to do with the non-political side of things has involved talking about the wonders of Israel. How they serve dried fruits and nuts and all fresh things for meals. How wonderful it is to be in a place where, for once, the Jewish people are not a minority. How the weather is amazing. Well...it was all kind of true. The first night, after our flight over from Rome, we had a huge meal with great wines and fresh cheeses and little bowls of nuts. We spent hours over the next few days walking through the old, limestone, cobblestone marketplaces of Jerusalem, seeing countless little stalls selling various religious chachkas (I have never seen so many hamsas in my life). Orthodox Jews and Arabs and others walked around the city, and mezzuzahs graced almost every doorway of every building (including our individual hotel rooms). My first few days there, I was convinced I was not actually in Israel, but in some kind of Jewish theme park that couldn't be real. It did not hurt that we had near-perfect weather for much of the trip (no rain!).

We also saw some of the reality of the difficulties in the country, though. Like on our last day, when we noticed a group of twenty-year-old girls, looking like mere children, walking around Tel Aviv in their army uniforms with huge black guns casually strapped across their backs. Or when we crossed through the wall to visit Bethlehem, which was a completely surreal experience. We also drove by some of the West Bank settlements that are causing so much controversy. All in all, we only had limited discussions about politics (this was by design--since our group is about religion and interreligious dialogue, politics was not meant to be a focus), but we still saw some of these things firsthand.

The interfaith and Jewish aspects of the trip were extremely interesting. We spent five half-days studying at the Shalom Hartman Institute, a Jewish pluralistic research center. Pluralism, of diversity within Judaism, is very important today. I often find that greater strife and judgment actually comes from people without our own faith traditions, and so specific places that bring together members of different strains of Judaism--Orthodox, Conservative, Reform, Reconstructionist--are really exemplary. During our time there, we would hear lectures on different topics, such as one on feminism in Orthodox Judaism and another on the different Christian groups living in Israel. We would then spend the other half of those days touring around Jerusalem.

Personally, going to the Western Wall was very moving. For those who are unaware, the Western Wall is the most holy site on Earth for Jews because it is close to where the ancient Temple once stood. I have to say, though, I never expected my first time approaching it to be with a group of five practicing Christians--not a better or worse experience than I had expected, just different. Many Orthodox Jewish women prayed intently around us (genders are separated for prayer by the Western Wall, in accordance with Orthodox prayer practice, since Israel is run by Orthodox authorities). So I was not 100% like the Orthodox women, but nor was I 100% like my female Christian friends...I felt somewhat far away from my egalitarian, liberal, Reform Jewish community in New York at that moment. Also, in the main gender-separated area against the wall, I noticed that the women's section is smaller than the men's, even though there was open space against the wall in the men's section while women were two deep trying to just get close enough to touch the wall.

I felt I could've been more emotional, if I'd had more time than just a few rushed minutes at the wall. As it was, my group quickly shuffled off from the women's section to find the newly-opened mixed-gender prayer area. While I applaud the Orthodox governance for (finally) opening up a space for more liberal visitors, this section was difficult to find--outside of the security complex surrounding the main part of the Wall, around enormous construction works, through a gate that is not marked as the mixed prayer section in any way (we had to ask), down a long flight of stairs to what looks like an archaeological site and not a prayer site, to an empty platform, with no way to get close enough to touch the wall. Plus, there was no one there except for us. I can only hope that one day Jews of all types can pray in their own way--and properly--at the Western Wall. That said, cannot deny that I was moved at finally making it to the Western Wall. In a true example of interfaith relations at work, one of my Christian friends asked me to say a prayer, and so I sang the Shema while we were in the mixed-gender section.

After Jerusalem, our group ventured up to the Galilee, to Akko (right on the Mediterranean!), the Sea of Galilee (very peaceful), Capernaum, and Tel Aviv for the remaining three days of the trip. During these few days, we met with a gentleman at the main location for a fascinating, seemingly pro-interfaith branch of Islam known as Sufism, visited the center of the Baha'i faith just outside of Akko, and learned about the Peres Center for Peace (a grassroots organization working to improve relationships between Israelis and Palestinians) in Tel Aviv. All in all, a very interesting end to our trip.

So what will I take away from all of this? First of all, a strong desire to go back to Israel. I think going back with a Jewish group specifically, hopefully Birthright, will give me more time understand how I should feel as a Jewish person in Israel, and what it will mean for me as a Jewish person living elsewhere. Another shocking thing I have taken away from the trip was to realize that the stories of the Bible, of the Torah, they all happened in an actual place, and not some fantasy land as I guess I subconsciously thought. I mean, to be brought into the tiny basement of a church and told that Jesus was born there, was a pretty incredible thing, even for me as a Jew. I think I could not really believe Israel existed until I saw it, and I am fairly certain this will affect how I read Biblical stories in the future. I also feel inspired by the work that is going on to improve religious relations in Israel, and I pray that soon those efforts will be successful in bringing peace to this tiny nation.

So now, as the sun sets on a beautiful day back in my current city of Rome, as ever,

(Look! A present from a good friend!)

<3,

Allyson 

Namaste

Hello, friends!

Namaste: the Divine in me bows to the Divine in you. A common greeting on the India subcontinent, accompanied by flat palms, pressed together with fingers up, against the chest, accompanied by a small bow.

I love this greeting, and first had it explained to me last summer during an interfaith conference when I sat in on a short discussion of Hinduism (though members of different belief systems common to India also use it). I am writing about it now because of my impending doom exam tomorrow morning for a class I took this semester, Introduzione alle religioni orientali (Introduction to Oriental Religions). This course was in Italian, and ended up proving much more difficult for me than it should have (it certainly did not help that it was on a topic about which I am only marginally familiar, or the fact that we also have to learn vocabulary in Chinese and Sanskrit, or that it was at 8:30 a.m. on Monday mornings...). However, with a little help from the notes of a friend here who speaks infinitely better Italian than me (thank you!) and four straight days of solitary confinement in my apartment, I am slightly closer to understanding the four belief systems that I need to know about for my test tomorrow: Taoism, Confucianism, Hinduism, and Buddhism.

My primary interest in learning about religions is usually to better understand people I meet who practice these religions. This has also made it a bit hard for me to tackle the material for this course. Yes, I have met Hindu individuals in the past, and those that vaguely ascribe to Buddhism (and in 2012 I had the opportunity to hear the Dalai Lama answer a question I sent in about multifaith relations when he visited my university...check out his answer here, at 54:00--he even does the namaste-type bow!). But even so, these experiences have been few and far between, and I have never knowingly met a Taoist or someone who ascribes to Confucianism. So why learn about them?

Before, I could never understand why all people did not try to learn more about Judaism. "But it's such an ancient religion!," I'd think. "But we exist all over the globe! Plus, we're super cool!" And yet...I understand a little more now. I understand how it could not necessarily feel extremely important to everyone to learn about a religion that is a minority in their part of the world. Because I found it tough to study these Eastern religions, which seem so far away from me and with which I have never really interacted. I guess, though, I wanted to study them just in case I ever do meet someone who belongs to these groups. Additionally, a side benefit I did not expect is that learning about these systems has reminded me that the Judeo-Christian tradition that seems to envelop the whole planet...really only dominates part of the planet. Hinduism and Buddhism are some of the oldest religions on the planet (older than Judaism), and have many, many adherents. I see value in learning about them.

What do you think? Should we take the time to learn about minority religions (Judaism, Zoroastrianism, UU)? What about religions that have basically died out (ancient Greek belief systems)? Or those that some consider heretical today (paganism, Wicca)? Why, or why not?

So now, in response to my father asking me earlier today, "So what do I need to know about these belief systems?" and my previous inability to find an adequate answer immediately, I have decided to compile some interesting facts about the four systems I have been studying. Feel free to read or not as you like. This is meant simply as a brief introduction for those of you who, like me, could use some more information on Eastern traditions. Please comment if you think I am mistaken about something, or if you have something to add.

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Taoism (sometimes called "Daoism")
"Tao" means a variety of things, primarily "way," "journey," or "path." This belief system originated in China, and is generally divided into two types: Tao-Chia is philosophical Taoism, whereas Tao-Chiao is religious Taoism. The goal of the philosophical strain is the mystical union with this "Tao," which is vaguely some type of ineffable concept. Religious Tao-Chiao is instead more concerned with achieving immortality through this union with the Tao. Apparently adherents refrain from eating grains or legumes, and also try to eat meals with foods that are black, white, yellow, red, and green. They also will not undergo surgery, all in an effort to work towards immortality by maintaining the pure, natural state of the human. This also means meditating to forget all learning.
 

Yin-Yang; white yin representing the feminine/cool/passive elements in us all, black yang the male/hot/active

Confucianism 
This belief system was the state religion of China for a while (a long time ago). It also incorporates the idea of "tao" that comes forth in Taoism, but defines the ways to achieve union with Tao in different ways. For example, Confucianism emphasizes the importance of interacting with other people in certain ways. The five primary relationships are king-subject, parents-children, husband-wife, older brother-younger brother, the elderly-the young, and Confucianism defines the proper ways to act in all of these interpersonal relationships. It also identifies the Four Divine Seeds, which are innate dispositions of people (the compassionate heart, the shameful heart, the selfless heart, and the heart that discerns between good and evil). The idea is that people have different amounts of these dispositions, so you have to cultivate them to bring some out. Study is valued, as well as loyalty/sincerity to others, and being a person of your word (for example, showing up on time for a meeting that you agreed to attend). Also, believers do not donate organs, but they can apparently donate blood.

Hinduism 
With no single founder, Hinduism involves a collection of different belief systems from India. One interesting thing I learned was that Jains and Sikhs actually somehow fall under the umbrella of Hinduism. Hinduism often gets a bad name amongst monotheists because of its belief in multiple divinities, but if I am understanding it correctly, these are actually manifestations of the same general G-d in different forms. There are three main divinities I learned about: Brahma the Creator, Vishnu the Preserver (he's blue and has four arms and often has a lotus flower and a conch shell), and Shiva the Destroyer (he had a trident and a snake). They can have different names if they are represented in certain situations, or if they are represented as women. India has long had a caste system, so that also plays in to the religion somewhat (first class "Brahmani" is priests--the "mouth" of Brahma, second class "Kshatrya" would be men in politics--the arm of Brahma, third class "Vaishnya" would be normal people--the legs of Brahma, and the fourth class "Sudra" is servants--the feet of Brahma). Most Hindus believe in reincarnation. Hinduism also makes use of the Om sound/symbol:

The "3" part on the left represents birth, the curly on the bottom right is life, the little "U" with a diamond at the top is death

Buddhism
Buddhism is based upon the teachings of Siddhartha Gautama, or Buddha. Buddhists seek to escape a neverending path of rebirth until one can achieve nirvana, and remove all suffering. It is "nontheistic," which means some lack of a belief in G-d. This somehow means that many people that ascribe to Buddhism also follow another religion (a trendy term today in the United States is "Jewboo," a Jewish Buddhist). The Four Noble Truths are the truth of dukkha (suffering, anxiety), the origin of dukkha, the cessation of dukkha, and the path to the cessation of dukkha. The two main strains in Buddhism today are Theravada ("School of the Elders," the older and more conservative strain) and Mahayana (the more popular one today). Buddhists look to the Three Jewels for refuge and guidance, which are Buddha (as an example to imitate), dharma (teachings), and sangha (community). The Noble Eightfold Path are the eight tenets many Buddhists try to live by: right view, right intention, right speech, right action, right livelihood, right effort, right mindfulness, right concentration.
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These religious and philosophical systems have a lot more to them than this, but I figure these brief descriptions will serve as a start for those interested in pursuing further study of Eastern religions.
 

Now go out and love one another.

Namaste.

<3,
Allyson