Hello, friends.
A mentor of mine posted an article some months ago (this one!) about how everyone seems to respond to the question, "How are you?" with the same answer--"busy." Life is busy. Work is busy. Everything is just...busy.
You may gather from my lack of posts for a few months that my life is, yes, busy.
This particular article suggested moving towards saying, "Life is full." Busy, yes, but also full of good, happy things. The problem is that just changing the wording will not change the meaning behind the statement unless one really internalizes the idea, which is very much easier said than done.
So then how can we internalize this idea of seeing our lives as full of good? Yes, sometimes very real, very challenging things come up--a loved one dies, illness strikes, financial troubles arise. But frequently, we are "busy" with many other things--both good and bad.
The U.S. is known for having workers who, at least compared to some cultures, spend more time at work, take less vacation, and generally just put in more time/stress at work. Whether this is more productive or better for the overall wellbeing of the individuals and the society is definitely debatable. But, given that culture that we live in, and the particular, fastest-paced city I'm in at the moment (I really do <3 NYC), how can we deal with this busyness productively? When some of us wake up, go to work, have a non-stop day with a five-minute stop for lunch, stay in the office late, go home, eat whatever is around, and fall asleep...just to wake up to do it again the next day, how can we find happiness, find fulfillment--find peace?
Now, I know I'm somewhat of a typical twenty-something, dealing with the normal adjustments to working full-time (less unscheduled time), but I also think finding a work-life balance is more than just learning to avoid checking your work email every ten minutes. It's also about finding a way to shut off thinking about work and life stresses at certain points; compartmentalizing.
Many religions seek to help adherents find a way to internal "peace." This might be through yoga for some, through prayer for others, but all of these practices to some extent aiming to find a way to quiet the mind. I would even argue that finding internal peace is vital before we can achieve a general peace among the nations/religions/cultures/etc. So how can we do it?
I can speak from personal experience about some ways in which I seek peace--sometimes I head to the gym, or I'll blast music and dance around the apartment in my pajamas (just living my best life), or I'll write out my to-do list to prove to myself that there really is enough time to do everything. I recently read about a new labyrinth that opened in midtown (I love labyrinths), so I could stop by a peaceful place like that. Sometimes it just takes a good book or a few minutes on the phone with a friend to re-center, to feel more at peace. Sometimes a good Shabbat service can do it for me by giving me a few minutes to think.
I know many of you out there are very busy as well (because some of you tell me!). So what do you do when things feel overwhelming? When you have only a few free moments in a day, and have to choose what to do with that precious time? Is it prayer? Meditation? Watching mindless reality television? Please leave any suggestions in the comments--I know I'm always looking for ways to live a calmer, more focused life. Inner peace is certainly not the only solution to the world's problems, to the hate and the violence, but it certainly won't hurt if we all work together to find a little more quiet in every day.
Now go out and love one another.
<3,
Allyson
Wednesday, November 11, 2015
Saturday, August 15, 2015
Jewish Death and Mourning Rituals
Hello friends,
The passing of a loved one is always difficult. There is the emotional distress of losing someone forever and realizing that life will never be quite the same. Then there is the stress of that which follows the death--from deciding on who will speak at the funeral service to clearing out the person's apartment, and everything in between. For some Jews, the process could roughly be: within hours figure out things with the funeral home, have all close family and friends drive/fly to be in the place of the funeral asap, hold a funeral service within 24 hours of the death, then the burial, and then have a busy shiva for several days. The period of mourning is always a lot to handle. I will explain my take on Jewish mourning a little more.
My understanding of Jewish burial and mourning ritual--at least from my specifically Reform perspective--is that there are established stages to mourning that are laid out in the Jewish religion, to me seemingly meant to encourage going through the required emotions as necessary (and having set time allowed for that), but then moving on and getting back to living.
In Judaism, we bury the deceased almost immediately. While the goal would be for burial within 24 hours, we often delay this to allow out-of-state relatives to attend. The person is generally buried in a very simple manner (simple wooden coffin, the body is not embalmed). This is tied to the concept from Genesis 3:19: "From dust you come and to dust you will return." Death is very much a natural part of life--and though that does not take away the sorrow one feels, it can bring a sense of comfort in acknowledging the interconnectedness of life. Close family members of the deceased would traditionally rip their clothing in the Jewish tradition, as an outward expression their great sorrow at the loss of a loved one (aka "this clothing means nothing in the face of my distress"). In liberal circles, it is now more common to wear a ripped black ribbon for the seven days following the death. Both of these I see as an important way of showing the world both that you are in mourning, and that you are specifically a Jewish person in mourning. At the grave, a short service will be held, and mourners will physically help fill in the grave of the person who has died.
A period known as shiva (which means "seven") is the first stage of mourning, which traditionally takes place for seven days after the death. Close family members of the deceased do what is called "sitting shiva." Usually, at least in my experience, a close relative of the person who has passed with host this at their home. Family members will share publicly the days and times at which they are sitting shiva, and then friends and associates come to pay their respect and talk with the mourners. There's always a lot of food. There's also a lot of talking. There are a lot of people. It's a lot.
Many Jewish people today shorten this so that it lasts less than seven days (which I completely understand--socializing for six days [no sitting shiva on Shabbat] sounds extremely exhausting), but the idea is still a beautiful one to me--for these days, you are allowed to be very sad. You do not go to work, you are meant to refrain from caring about your appearance over-much (one sign of a shiva is all the mirrors in the house are covered with cloths), and you are just there--comforting, being comforted. You are allowed to be sad. Technically, those paying the shiva call are even meant to wait for the mourners to speak first--or sit in silence if the mourners prefer. Mourners are not even meant to answer the door. Rather than flowers, the traditional thing to send/bring to a shiva is food, so that mourners do not even need to think about feeding themselves. The focus really is on letting close relatives grieve as they feel they must grieve, without needing to focus on anything else.
Many families will choose a charity that holds meaning for the person who has died, and then those seeking to comfort them will make donations in memory of the deceased. I think this is also a beautiful part of the process, to think that so much good can come out of something so sad. For me, it goes back into that idea of death as a natural part of life--someone meaningful has left us, but their memory leads to good things and so helps the world continue and heal.
The Mourner's Kaddish (one of the major prayers in my experience of Judaism--said at I think every Jewish service I have ever experienced) is said every day during shiva, and frequently or every day for the entire year after the death. You can read the English of the prayer at the bottom of this page: http://www.reformjudaism.org/practice/prayers-blessings/mourners-kaddish. (When this prayer is said during a regular synagogue service, people will stand up if they have had a recent death in their family, or if they are observing a yarzheit, which means the anniversary of a close relative's death.)
There is then the thirty-day period following a death called sloshim (shiva is included in this count), during which some restrictions are still in place, but largely the mourners return to their lives--returning to work, for example. This period was discussed in a post that Facebook CEO Sheryl Sandberg wrote following the death of her husband, which ended up going viral: https://www.facebook.com/sheryl/posts/10155617891025177:0. In the post, she describes the things she learned during sloshim--the wisdom she gained while in this period of deep sadness, about the kindness and meaning that can come from within, and the comfort that can come from other people. Paying a shiva call is considered a mitzvah (this has come to mean "[a religiously-motivated] good deed" in modern times, though it is actually translated as "commandment"). I would even anyone that tries to comfort a mourner is doing a mitzvah--someone who lives far away, for example, and cannot come in person can make a big impact by sending a card, or calling to talk about the loss, or just checking in with the mourner. These are all so vitally important.
Something that happens roughly 6-12 months after the death is called the "unveiling," at which point close family of the deceased gather at the gravesite to see the gravestone that has been put there. I also really like this practice--especially for those who are not extremely observant Jews, after the shiva ends, most people probably return to their normal lives. They go back to work, they resume listening to music and socializing--they might not continue observing any formal signs of mourning, but they are likely still dealing with the loss in a very sharp way. This gathering for the unveiling, for me, marks and acknowledges that continued mourning period. It is comforting to check in with everybody, to see how everybody is doing, and to finally feel a sense of closure: the grave is marked, we have done right by the person who has passed, and we honor her or his memory again--together. Following this is the one-year anniversary of the death, at which point all formal mourning restrictions are lifted.
Death changes us, regardless of when or how it happens. It is sad when it is an older person after a long and beautiful life, it is tragic when it is a young person just starting out, it is always sad. But I take comfort from the Jewish acknowledgment of this period to grieve, the place of death in the cycle of life, and the necessity to then complete mourning and move on to life. "From dust you come and to dust you will return."
I have described Jewish rituals in great depth here, but what have been your experiences with death and mourning rituals? Some religious or cultural traditions wait longer to bury the body, or may not receive callers for as long, or may have the body of the deceased cremated. What are some parts of your death and mourning rituals in which you find comfort?
I have written this post in honor of my Bubby, who was a special woman in many ways. Zichrona livracha.
Now go out and love one another.
<3,
Allyson
The passing of a loved one is always difficult. There is the emotional distress of losing someone forever and realizing that life will never be quite the same. Then there is the stress of that which follows the death--from deciding on who will speak at the funeral service to clearing out the person's apartment, and everything in between. For some Jews, the process could roughly be: within hours figure out things with the funeral home, have all close family and friends drive/fly to be in the place of the funeral asap, hold a funeral service within 24 hours of the death, then the burial, and then have a busy shiva for several days. The period of mourning is always a lot to handle. I will explain my take on Jewish mourning a little more.
My understanding of Jewish burial and mourning ritual--at least from my specifically Reform perspective--is that there are established stages to mourning that are laid out in the Jewish religion, to me seemingly meant to encourage going through the required emotions as necessary (and having set time allowed for that), but then moving on and getting back to living.
In Judaism, we bury the deceased almost immediately. While the goal would be for burial within 24 hours, we often delay this to allow out-of-state relatives to attend. The person is generally buried in a very simple manner (simple wooden coffin, the body is not embalmed). This is tied to the concept from Genesis 3:19: "From dust you come and to dust you will return." Death is very much a natural part of life--and though that does not take away the sorrow one feels, it can bring a sense of comfort in acknowledging the interconnectedness of life. Close family members of the deceased would traditionally rip their clothing in the Jewish tradition, as an outward expression their great sorrow at the loss of a loved one (aka "this clothing means nothing in the face of my distress"). In liberal circles, it is now more common to wear a ripped black ribbon for the seven days following the death. Both of these I see as an important way of showing the world both that you are in mourning, and that you are specifically a Jewish person in mourning. At the grave, a short service will be held, and mourners will physically help fill in the grave of the person who has died.
A period known as shiva (which means "seven") is the first stage of mourning, which traditionally takes place for seven days after the death. Close family members of the deceased do what is called "sitting shiva." Usually, at least in my experience, a close relative of the person who has passed with host this at their home. Family members will share publicly the days and times at which they are sitting shiva, and then friends and associates come to pay their respect and talk with the mourners. There's always a lot of food. There's also a lot of talking. There are a lot of people. It's a lot.
Many Jewish people today shorten this so that it lasts less than seven days (which I completely understand--socializing for six days [no sitting shiva on Shabbat] sounds extremely exhausting), but the idea is still a beautiful one to me--for these days, you are allowed to be very sad. You do not go to work, you are meant to refrain from caring about your appearance over-much (one sign of a shiva is all the mirrors in the house are covered with cloths), and you are just there--comforting, being comforted. You are allowed to be sad. Technically, those paying the shiva call are even meant to wait for the mourners to speak first--or sit in silence if the mourners prefer. Mourners are not even meant to answer the door. Rather than flowers, the traditional thing to send/bring to a shiva is food, so that mourners do not even need to think about feeding themselves. The focus really is on letting close relatives grieve as they feel they must grieve, without needing to focus on anything else.
Many families will choose a charity that holds meaning for the person who has died, and then those seeking to comfort them will make donations in memory of the deceased. I think this is also a beautiful part of the process, to think that so much good can come out of something so sad. For me, it goes back into that idea of death as a natural part of life--someone meaningful has left us, but their memory leads to good things and so helps the world continue and heal.
The Mourner's Kaddish (one of the major prayers in my experience of Judaism--said at I think every Jewish service I have ever experienced) is said every day during shiva, and frequently or every day for the entire year after the death. You can read the English of the prayer at the bottom of this page: http://www.reformjudaism.org/practice/prayers-blessings/mourners-kaddish. (When this prayer is said during a regular synagogue service, people will stand up if they have had a recent death in their family, or if they are observing a yarzheit, which means the anniversary of a close relative's death.)
There is then the thirty-day period following a death called sloshim (shiva is included in this count), during which some restrictions are still in place, but largely the mourners return to their lives--returning to work, for example. This period was discussed in a post that Facebook CEO Sheryl Sandberg wrote following the death of her husband, which ended up going viral: https://www.facebook.com/sheryl/posts/10155617891025177:0. In the post, she describes the things she learned during sloshim--the wisdom she gained while in this period of deep sadness, about the kindness and meaning that can come from within, and the comfort that can come from other people. Paying a shiva call is considered a mitzvah (this has come to mean "[a religiously-motivated] good deed" in modern times, though it is actually translated as "commandment"). I would even anyone that tries to comfort a mourner is doing a mitzvah--someone who lives far away, for example, and cannot come in person can make a big impact by sending a card, or calling to talk about the loss, or just checking in with the mourner. These are all so vitally important.
Something that happens roughly 6-12 months after the death is called the "unveiling," at which point close family of the deceased gather at the gravesite to see the gravestone that has been put there. I also really like this practice--especially for those who are not extremely observant Jews, after the shiva ends, most people probably return to their normal lives. They go back to work, they resume listening to music and socializing--they might not continue observing any formal signs of mourning, but they are likely still dealing with the loss in a very sharp way. This gathering for the unveiling, for me, marks and acknowledges that continued mourning period. It is comforting to check in with everybody, to see how everybody is doing, and to finally feel a sense of closure: the grave is marked, we have done right by the person who has passed, and we honor her or his memory again--together. Following this is the one-year anniversary of the death, at which point all formal mourning restrictions are lifted.
Death changes us, regardless of when or how it happens. It is sad when it is an older person after a long and beautiful life, it is tragic when it is a young person just starting out, it is always sad. But I take comfort from the Jewish acknowledgment of this period to grieve, the place of death in the cycle of life, and the necessity to then complete mourning and move on to life. "From dust you come and to dust you will return."
I have described Jewish rituals in great depth here, but what have been your experiences with death and mourning rituals? Some religious or cultural traditions wait longer to bury the body, or may not receive callers for as long, or may have the body of the deceased cremated. What are some parts of your death and mourning rituals in which you find comfort?
I have written this post in honor of my Bubby, who was a special woman in many ways. Zichrona livracha.
Now go out and love one another.
<3,
Allyson
Sunday, May 17, 2015
A Set of Interfaith Events
Hello, friends!
After an extremely busy week at work, I find myself reflecting on what has actually been an extremely busy few...weeks? Months? Life? Just a busy time. However, two of the best parts of my life recently were two amazing interfaith events--Auburn Seminary's Lives of Commitment Awards breakfast on April 22 and a lecture by Cardinal Dolan at the Jewish Theological Seminary on May 6 for the 50th anniversary of Nostra Aetate.
I will begin with the first: the Auburn breakfast. Apparently this is an annual interfaith event that honors women doing incredible work in the area of interreligious understanding. Auburn itself is a type of multifaith seminary which I believe seeks to equip faith leaders with tools for an interfaith world (which sounds like a wonderful, lofty goal to me!). The breakfast took place in a lovely, huge hall right by Grand Central Terminal--and there were hundreds of people there, including a bunch of other people I know in the field who I had not expected to see! (Plus the food was delicious.)
The reason I was invited to this event was because my boss was one of the honorees, receiving well-deserved recognition for the work she has begun with our organization (which is an interfaith group helping Syrian refugees). We learned about her story and the stories of the other women--all very different, but all very inspiring. They all gave short speeches, there were little interfaith elements throughout the event (including a part where people from Auburn told us to text our favorite inspirational song lyrics to them and they made a spoken word poetry, which they then performed), and afterward a smaller panel with the honorees where they answered relevant questions about their work, lives, and experience with interfaith.
Wow. I think there were 600 people in the room for the breakfast and just...wow. First of all, from purely a logistical perspective, let me just say that that event was excellently run. Kudos to Auburn and Cipriani for pulling it off so well. But even more important than the logistics of running a successful event for 600 people was that the event was meaningful without being cheesy, moving without being overly sentimental, and powerful without feeling fake. These were six women who genuinely spend their time seeking understanding, and seeking to help others understand, that religion can be a force for good and not just evil. Really--wow. I hope I can attend the breakfast again in future years.
The second meaningful event was a lecture given by New York's Catholic Cardinal Dolan at JTS (the Conservative rabbinical school). I was invited to a private dinner before the lecture by one of my professors from my time in Rome (himself a rabbi-teacher at JTS who works on interfaith issues). From almost the moment I walked up to this event (with my boss, who was also invited), there was just had a happy feeling in the atmosphere. Finally, New York's weather has mostly improved, and we started with wine out under a beautiful blue sky, everyone mingling. The dinner had about 90 people, and I had the opportunity to meet a few of the interesting individuals even before we sat down for the meal.
This lecture is another annual event, an interfaith lecture--the Pope John Paul II Annual Lecture on Interreligious Understanding. This one is run via the Russell Berrie Foundation, which some of you may know is that foundation that funded my year studying religion in Rome with the priests. So unexpectedly it turned out I also knew a few other people at the dinner--including two individuals who had been on my trip from Rome to Israel last February (both from the Russell Berrie Foundation, including the head of the foundation herself).
The dinner involved some small speeches by my professor, by the Cardinal, and by others. It became clear when they introduced some of the key people in the room (including my boss) that this room was filled with more important people than I initially realized. Leaders of different faith organizations (not just Catholic and Jewish, though this lecture would specifically relate to Catholic-Jewish relations), people associated with foundations, students in relevant fields, and more. I happened to sit down next to a gentleman from what is arguably the largest Anglican/Episcopal cathedral in the world--located right here in New York. We had a lovely conversation, which has actually led to plans for me to visit the cathedral and have lunch with him in two weeks. Such a great time! I also eventually realized that I was likely the youngest in the room...which I loved!
After the dinner, we moved into an auditorium for the Cardinal's speech. The Cardinal spoke on a very personal level about his experience with Jews, and really came across as an extremely personable gentleman. We also all had the opportunity to submit questions for him to answer at the end, and the moderators shared a version of the one I submitted: I had noted that while Nostra Aetate is a great document in theory, my experience is that most lay Catholics are not aware of it. So is it being put into practice at that micro level, and people just do not know the Church document that forms the foundation of their appreciation of Jews? Or is it just a nice theory? He explained (astutely, I thought) that especially in America, priests just take for granted the interfaith framework they have been given from the start, and they do not always realize that they need to work to maintain that.
Another poignant moment came from the chancellor of JTS, Arnold Eisen, when he explained in brief and direct form that having dialogue means we have to be able to disagree--or it is not really a dialogue. This was so meaningful to me on a personal level. I love listening to someone else's opinion, but if it differs from my own, I am not afraid to say it. I learn, I listen intently with the objective to understand, but I also feel comfortable making my (contrary) opinion known. I've noticed, though, that this frequently takes people aback--and I understand that a bit, but I think it is part of being an adult in this world that we will not agree fully really with anyone. Having dialogue makes the world more interesting, allows us to grow in our own opinions, and learn about others. I see no negative to this, though admittedly it is a skill that is tough to learn (and one with which I continue to struggle). But I felt reassured when Eisen said it so bluntly: dialogue means being able to disagree.
I had a moment at the end of the night as I left when I commented to my boss that I had not been in a room with so many priests in about nine months; she chuckled and noted that most people will never be in a room with that many priests. But I always find it so invigorating to be surrounded by interesting religious people, and this night was no exception.
Now to just find more events like these to continue to inspire my passion and dedication to this. I am sure more will come along!
Now go out and love one another.
<3,
Allyson
After an extremely busy week at work, I find myself reflecting on what has actually been an extremely busy few...weeks? Months? Life? Just a busy time. However, two of the best parts of my life recently were two amazing interfaith events--Auburn Seminary's Lives of Commitment Awards breakfast on April 22 and a lecture by Cardinal Dolan at the Jewish Theological Seminary on May 6 for the 50th anniversary of Nostra Aetate.
I will begin with the first: the Auburn breakfast. Apparently this is an annual interfaith event that honors women doing incredible work in the area of interreligious understanding. Auburn itself is a type of multifaith seminary which I believe seeks to equip faith leaders with tools for an interfaith world (which sounds like a wonderful, lofty goal to me!). The breakfast took place in a lovely, huge hall right by Grand Central Terminal--and there were hundreds of people there, including a bunch of other people I know in the field who I had not expected to see! (Plus the food was delicious.)
It seemed like the venue might have previously been a bank--pretty neat
The reason I was invited to this event was because my boss was one of the honorees, receiving well-deserved recognition for the work she has begun with our organization (which is an interfaith group helping Syrian refugees). We learned about her story and the stories of the other women--all very different, but all very inspiring. They all gave short speeches, there were little interfaith elements throughout the event (including a part where people from Auburn told us to text our favorite inspirational song lyrics to them and they made a spoken word poetry, which they then performed), and afterward a smaller panel with the honorees where they answered relevant questions about their work, lives, and experience with interfaith.
Wow. I think there were 600 people in the room for the breakfast and just...wow. First of all, from purely a logistical perspective, let me just say that that event was excellently run. Kudos to Auburn and Cipriani for pulling it off so well. But even more important than the logistics of running a successful event for 600 people was that the event was meaningful without being cheesy, moving without being overly sentimental, and powerful without feeling fake. These were six women who genuinely spend their time seeking understanding, and seeking to help others understand, that religion can be a force for good and not just evil. Really--wow. I hope I can attend the breakfast again in future years.
The second meaningful event was a lecture given by New York's Catholic Cardinal Dolan at JTS (the Conservative rabbinical school). I was invited to a private dinner before the lecture by one of my professors from my time in Rome (himself a rabbi-teacher at JTS who works on interfaith issues). From almost the moment I walked up to this event (with my boss, who was also invited), there was just had a happy feeling in the atmosphere. Finally, New York's weather has mostly improved, and we started with wine out under a beautiful blue sky, everyone mingling. The dinner had about 90 people, and I had the opportunity to meet a few of the interesting individuals even before we sat down for the meal.
This lecture is another annual event, an interfaith lecture--the Pope John Paul II Annual Lecture on Interreligious Understanding. This one is run via the Russell Berrie Foundation, which some of you may know is that foundation that funded my year studying religion in Rome with the priests. So unexpectedly it turned out I also knew a few other people at the dinner--including two individuals who had been on my trip from Rome to Israel last February (both from the Russell Berrie Foundation, including the head of the foundation herself).
The dinner involved some small speeches by my professor, by the Cardinal, and by others. It became clear when they introduced some of the key people in the room (including my boss) that this room was filled with more important people than I initially realized. Leaders of different faith organizations (not just Catholic and Jewish, though this lecture would specifically relate to Catholic-Jewish relations), people associated with foundations, students in relevant fields, and more. I happened to sit down next to a gentleman from what is arguably the largest Anglican/Episcopal cathedral in the world--located right here in New York. We had a lovely conversation, which has actually led to plans for me to visit the cathedral and have lunch with him in two weeks. Such a great time! I also eventually realized that I was likely the youngest in the room...which I loved!
After the dinner, we moved into an auditorium for the Cardinal's speech. The Cardinal spoke on a very personal level about his experience with Jews, and really came across as an extremely personable gentleman. We also all had the opportunity to submit questions for him to answer at the end, and the moderators shared a version of the one I submitted: I had noted that while Nostra Aetate is a great document in theory, my experience is that most lay Catholics are not aware of it. So is it being put into practice at that micro level, and people just do not know the Church document that forms the foundation of their appreciation of Jews? Or is it just a nice theory? He explained (astutely, I thought) that especially in America, priests just take for granted the interfaith framework they have been given from the start, and they do not always realize that they need to work to maintain that.
Cardinal Timothy Dolan of New York and Jewish Theological Seminary
Chancellor Arnold Eisen spoke at the New York seminary about the legacy
of the Nostra Aetate document, May 6, 2015. (Jewish
Theological Seminary) from this article
Another poignant moment came from the chancellor of JTS, Arnold Eisen, when he explained in brief and direct form that having dialogue means we have to be able to disagree--or it is not really a dialogue. This was so meaningful to me on a personal level. I love listening to someone else's opinion, but if it differs from my own, I am not afraid to say it. I learn, I listen intently with the objective to understand, but I also feel comfortable making my (contrary) opinion known. I've noticed, though, that this frequently takes people aback--and I understand that a bit, but I think it is part of being an adult in this world that we will not agree fully really with anyone. Having dialogue makes the world more interesting, allows us to grow in our own opinions, and learn about others. I see no negative to this, though admittedly it is a skill that is tough to learn (and one with which I continue to struggle). But I felt reassured when Eisen said it so bluntly: dialogue means being able to disagree.
I had a moment at the end of the night as I left when I commented to my boss that I had not been in a room with so many priests in about nine months; she chuckled and noted that most people will never be in a room with that many priests. But I always find it so invigorating to be surrounded by interesting religious people, and this night was no exception.
Now to just find more events like these to continue to inspire my passion and dedication to this. I am sure more will come along!
Now go out and love one another.
<3,
Allyson
Friday, March 27, 2015
Neverending Questions
Hello, friends.
So...apparently I ask a lot of questions.
For those who don't know me in real life, asking questions is kind of my thing, and I don't only want to know your birthday and shoe size (though I do usually make sure to ask those things within five minutes of meeting someone). What I really, really want to know about people is the real stuff--like, what are your beliefs about G-d? Who are the people with whom you are closest? Why do you believe what you believe? Are you going through any problems with someone close to you right now? Have you ever questioned some of those fundamental beliefs you hold? Things in that vein.
Asking questions is such a natural part of my personality that sometimes I don't even realize that I ask an absurdly high number of questions. Part of it has to do with my natural curiosity; this is just how I am. But the other part of it has to do with an intentional effort on my part to learn about other. The majority of people on the planet tend to focus on themselves. This is certainly understandable: life is complicated and tiring, and it can be hard to look outward, and try to show genuine interest in others. So I do it because I both selfishly want to learn about how everyone thinks and feels, and also because I want others to feel that someone feels their life is worth learning about.
Now, intense questions like the ones I ask are not really appropriate in all situations. But...I tend to ask them anyway, at least as soon as I think they'll receive an honest answer. Sometimes, if I sense the right personality in someone, this might be right away (like on Valentine's Day this year, for a few hours, with a very interesting person I had just met at a Jewish conference). With other people, it might take years to build up that kind of trust and respect, especially if I suspect we may disagree.
You might (correctly) surmise that these deep questions don't always go over well with those who face these questions. For some people, answering a bunch of intense questions that have them analyzing their deeply-held beliefs can get exhausting. For other people, it can move beyond exhausting to offensive, as they interpret the questions I am asking as judgmental (they're not, I promise!). If I disagree, I am generally honest and open about it, but that does not mean we should stop talking. I want to keep learning! Tell me all the things! But be prepared to defend those beliefs you hold, especially when we differ in opinion.
For me, peoples' answers are a neverending source of energy--learning about people, learning why and how they think the way they think, showing people that I genuinely and honestly care about them and their thoughts and emotions, it is thrilling. If, hypothetically, I had ever been interviewed for a friend's thesis on political opinions, I would have, hypothetically, been one of the outliers in the hypothetical group of test subjects because I am open to interacting with people of different beliefs. But the world is so boring if you only interact with people who agree with you! I don't get how people can be content only interacting with one type of person, but there you go.
So, in that vein, I wanted to share some updates on fascinating interfaith-y things that have happened lately, many of which came out of questions:
1. In a text conversation with my Puerto Rican Catholic mother that started with her asking me, "Should I get enough gefilte fish so that you have leftovers?" and ended at, "I'd be Sephardic since I'm Latin [and so we are allowed to eat rice on Passover]," I learned that my Catholic mother has apparently had a detailed discussion about Passover food restrictions with our rabbi.
2. In Rome last year, when I was studying with priests for a year, I learned quite a bit about Catholic-Jewish relations--including the vital, history-changing document, Nostra Aetate (go read it; it's short). Curiously, through prolonged questioning, I learned that none of the very Catholic people in my life had read it (what?!). So when one of these close Catholic friends of mine shared this article with me, about a priest whose Jewish college friend chooses his Lent sacrifice every year, and asked me to choose her Lent penance for this year, it made sense that I would choose to...assign her a 40-day curriculum of documents on Catholic-Jewish relations. Totally normal, right? (P.S. Go read Nostra Aetate.)
3. During a Skype date with one of my Southern Presbyterian/Protestant friends this week, we discussed this article that I had found, which details a theological belief that some people hold, that it is the wife's responsibility to "submit" or "defer" to her husband's opinions at times when they disagree. As a militant egalitarian myself, I clearly do not hold these beliefs--but I wanted to hear from someone who, I suspected, might. And what a fascinating conversation we had! We disagree strongly on this issue (as we do on many other topics--you should hear our discussions about Israel), yet we could intelligently discuss, analyze, and debate it. I know I am thankful to her for helping me grow in understanding.
So now you know: I am a big advocate of questions. Question what you see, question what you hear, question what you're told. Question what the media tells you, what your parents tell you, what your Scripture tells you. Question it so that you can understand it, and, ultimately, decide if you agree with it.
At a Passover seder--Passover is coming up next week!--the youngest child asks four questions about the reasons behind the holiday. This may seem simple, but imagine a five-year-old haltingly asking a large group of adults why they should eat bitter herbs, why they should do what everyone else is doing. It is really amazing, and rather revolutionary, to encourage the youngest person in the room to question a religious tradition in front of so many people. Maybe this type of Jewish practice is a clue into my questioning nature--Judaism, at least the form I participate in, encourages this type of questioning.
So keep asking those tough questions. It will not always be easy, and it is important to be respectful and acknowledge that the other person might not want to answer--but keep asking. Acknowledge where you both disagree, but move forward from there so that you can both understand each other--and the world--better. Not to try to change the other person, but to genuinely learn from her or him. It can be exciting, I promise, and you never know what you might learn.
Now go out and love one another.
<3,
Allyson
So...apparently I ask a lot of questions.
For those who don't know me in real life, asking questions is kind of my thing, and I don't only want to know your birthday and shoe size (though I do usually make sure to ask those things within five minutes of meeting someone). What I really, really want to know about people is the real stuff--like, what are your beliefs about G-d? Who are the people with whom you are closest? Why do you believe what you believe? Are you going through any problems with someone close to you right now? Have you ever questioned some of those fundamental beliefs you hold? Things in that vein.
Asking questions is such a natural part of my personality that sometimes I don't even realize that I ask an absurdly high number of questions. Part of it has to do with my natural curiosity; this is just how I am. But the other part of it has to do with an intentional effort on my part to learn about other. The majority of people on the planet tend to focus on themselves. This is certainly understandable: life is complicated and tiring, and it can be hard to look outward, and try to show genuine interest in others. So I do it because I both selfishly want to learn about how everyone thinks and feels, and also because I want others to feel that someone feels their life is worth learning about.
Now, intense questions like the ones I ask are not really appropriate in all situations. But...I tend to ask them anyway, at least as soon as I think they'll receive an honest answer. Sometimes, if I sense the right personality in someone, this might be right away (like on Valentine's Day this year, for a few hours, with a very interesting person I had just met at a Jewish conference). With other people, it might take years to build up that kind of trust and respect, especially if I suspect we may disagree.
You might (correctly) surmise that these deep questions don't always go over well with those who face these questions. For some people, answering a bunch of intense questions that have them analyzing their deeply-held beliefs can get exhausting. For other people, it can move beyond exhausting to offensive, as they interpret the questions I am asking as judgmental (they're not, I promise!). If I disagree, I am generally honest and open about it, but that does not mean we should stop talking. I want to keep learning! Tell me all the things! But be prepared to defend those beliefs you hold, especially when we differ in opinion.
For me, peoples' answers are a neverending source of energy--learning about people, learning why and how they think the way they think, showing people that I genuinely and honestly care about them and their thoughts and emotions, it is thrilling. If, hypothetically, I had ever been interviewed for a friend's thesis on political opinions, I would have, hypothetically, been one of the outliers in the hypothetical group of test subjects because I am open to interacting with people of different beliefs. But the world is so boring if you only interact with people who agree with you! I don't get how people can be content only interacting with one type of person, but there you go.
So, in that vein, I wanted to share some updates on fascinating interfaith-y things that have happened lately, many of which came out of questions:
1. In a text conversation with my Puerto Rican Catholic mother that started with her asking me, "Should I get enough gefilte fish so that you have leftovers?" and ended at, "I'd be Sephardic since I'm Latin [and so we are allowed to eat rice on Passover]," I learned that my Catholic mother has apparently had a detailed discussion about Passover food restrictions with our rabbi.
2. In Rome last year, when I was studying with priests for a year, I learned quite a bit about Catholic-Jewish relations--including the vital, history-changing document, Nostra Aetate (go read it; it's short). Curiously, through prolonged questioning, I learned that none of the very Catholic people in my life had read it (what?!). So when one of these close Catholic friends of mine shared this article with me, about a priest whose Jewish college friend chooses his Lent sacrifice every year, and asked me to choose her Lent penance for this year, it made sense that I would choose to...assign her a 40-day curriculum of documents on Catholic-Jewish relations. Totally normal, right? (P.S. Go read Nostra Aetate.)
3. During a Skype date with one of my Southern Presbyterian/Protestant friends this week, we discussed this article that I had found, which details a theological belief that some people hold, that it is the wife's responsibility to "submit" or "defer" to her husband's opinions at times when they disagree. As a militant egalitarian myself, I clearly do not hold these beliefs--but I wanted to hear from someone who, I suspected, might. And what a fascinating conversation we had! We disagree strongly on this issue (as we do on many other topics--you should hear our discussions about Israel), yet we could intelligently discuss, analyze, and debate it. I know I am thankful to her for helping me grow in understanding.
So now you know: I am a big advocate of questions. Question what you see, question what you hear, question what you're told. Question what the media tells you, what your parents tell you, what your Scripture tells you. Question it so that you can understand it, and, ultimately, decide if you agree with it.
At a Passover seder--Passover is coming up next week!--the youngest child asks four questions about the reasons behind the holiday. This may seem simple, but imagine a five-year-old haltingly asking a large group of adults why they should eat bitter herbs, why they should do what everyone else is doing. It is really amazing, and rather revolutionary, to encourage the youngest person in the room to question a religious tradition in front of so many people. Maybe this type of Jewish practice is a clue into my questioning nature--Judaism, at least the form I participate in, encourages this type of questioning.
So keep asking those tough questions. It will not always be easy, and it is important to be respectful and acknowledge that the other person might not want to answer--but keep asking. Acknowledge where you both disagree, but move forward from there so that you can both understand each other--and the world--better. Not to try to change the other person, but to genuinely learn from her or him. It can be exciting, I promise, and you never know what you might learn.
Now go out and love one another.
<3,
Allyson
Saturday, January 31, 2015
Charlie Hebdo: The Aftermath in Judaism
Hello, friends, and shavua tov.
Well, for my first post of a new year, it is sad that one of the biggest events related to religion to take place so far in 2015--the attacks in Paris on a newspaper office that published a cartoon of the Prophet Mohammed, and at a kosher supermarket--is such a sad one, but it is. I also know that countless writers have dealt with the subject on their blogs. I want to look at a particular angle that really bothered me, and so I have chosen to focus specifically on the Jewish response to attack in the kosher supermarket.
The perspective I want to take is really more of an intra-faith (within one faith) issue, but I do not see this as divergent from the intent of the blog overall. Many people outside of Judaism might hear about these issues, and completely not understand--not understand why people did what they did, why the response was what it was, etc. So I wanted to present a specific issue to that end.
As with many religions, the more practicing movement of Orthodox Judaism has a stricter sense of modesty and gender division than does much of the more "secular" world. This translates into real life in various ways according to halakhah--maintaining certain standards of dress, for example (generally skirts for women past the knees, sleeves past the elbows, collars covering the collarbone, etc., gentlemen also adhering to similar rules to cover up). During services, the genders will be divided by a type of wall ("mechitza" pronounced meh-hee-tzaah), to avoid them seeing each other and so possibly be tempted into "impure" thoughts. Some very religious folks avoid touching members of the other gender--even for so much as a handshake.
My understanding is that much of this extreme form of modesty has to do with avoiding pre-marital sexual relations, an important prohibition in halakhic Judaism (again, as it is in many religions). The theory would be that seeing too much skin on someone, or shaking hands, could lead to more.
Apparently, for some very religious Jews, even looking on members of the other gender can be considered immodest. Of course, this sometimes borders quite strongly on feeling misogynistic when it goes so far away from the realm of what is generally considered acceptable by the majority of the world population.
So fast forward to the horrific attacks in Paris. Regardless of your opinion on whether the newspaper should have published cartoons of the Prophet Muhammad (I am of the strong opinion that they should not have done so, as it was not a very respectful, pro-interfaith move, but that is another topic for another day), I hope that those of us who interact with this blog can agree that murdering people was not the correct reaction. If you have read any of the reports, you will know that the attacks on the Charlie Hebdo office--horrible. The attacks in the kosher supermarket--horrible. All horrible.
The attacks on the kosher supermarket in particular hit home for many Jews. While I have not seen anything claiming that this was a targeted attack against Jews, it very well could be, and it is just another example of Jews being killed--from the shootings in France a few years back, to the attacks at the Jewish museum in Brussels, to the relatively recent stabbing attack in Tel Aviv, and then a bombing by Hezbollah in Israel this past week, the point is that Jews are killed on a regular basis. Not to say that other groups are not, but there is clearly a pattern that proves that antisemitism is not dead. So, sadly, this attack at the supermarket was both devastating and personal to many Jews, without being altogether too surprising. I even know at least one cohort of American Jews that flew over to Paris in the aftermath of the shooting to lend support to the Jewish community in Paris. There was, understandably (I should hope), a reaction in Jewish media sources.
This included a questionable decision by a very Orthodox news source to alter an image relevant to the tragedy. Many were aware of the collective of world leaders who gathered in Paris following the attacks in order to protest terrorism, including even leaders from both Palestine and Israel, and the inexcusable lack of American leadership at the march (politics!). But this particular Israeli paper decided to edit a key photo from the unity march, showing these important world leaders joined together in solidarity, and removed all of the images of women and made it look like none were even present at the march.
What?
Yes, they decided to edit out any sign of women in the march. Not in some obvious way that would make it clear that the photo was not the original, oh no, but an edited version that looks very much like it could be a normal photo, at least to my untrained eye. They edited out Angela Merkel, for goodness' sake, arguably the most powerful politician on the planet right now. How? What? Why? Ugh. Let's take a look:
Aside from this clearly being a case of shoddy journalism (you cannot just alter a photo, I would imagine), the immediate question for those of us from less, let's say, "conservative" cultures, is the intent behind removing the women. As usual, I went to find out why. Why did you remove these women? Was there an understandable intent, as often is the case (even if I disagree), or was this a blatant case of religiously-fueled mysogynism?
I am sorry to say that I think it is the latter.
Claims assert that this edits was done out of "modesty," but it is fairly evident that the definition of "modesty" used by the editors of this particular, again, very religious newspaper (Hamevaser), means that even looking at women is offensive or inappropriate in some way. From one particular article, you could see how those within this particular type of Jewish community may agree: "'A woman's exterior should not be seen and photographed or paraded in front of men,' said Yosef Haim, a neighborhood resident. 'I think it's a very positive thing.'"Take a look at one article for some more details: http://news.yahoo.com/israel-paper-cuts-merkel-paris-march-photo-modesty-131410239.html
I do not approve. And as that article shows, not even all Orthodox people approve. So, please recognize this as another example of the great variety in the spectrum that is Judaism.
Unfortunately, the worst part of the response to this controversy came (unsurprisingly) from the newspaper editor: "Including a picture of a woman into something so sacred, as far as we are concerned, it can desecrate the memory of the martyrs and not the other way around," said Binyamin Lipkin (quote also from article above).
EXCUSE ME? I understand differing levels of modesty, and flatter myself that I am fairly open-minded to different cultures. One community feels that longer lengths should be upheld for clothing? Okay. Everyone should wear a head covering? Okay. I personally am not a fan of gendered restrictions (if I want to wear pants, and men are allowed to wear pants, you'd better know that I will be wearing pants), but I can at least understand modesty restrictions. For example, I tend to make sure my shoulders are covered in a synagogue, my skirt or pants go down to what I personally consider respectable, etc. and I know that what is considered "appropriate" differs for everyone.
But this incident, this altering that makes it seem like women did not participate, is appalling to me. Already, the significantly different percentages of world leaders who are male vs. female is extremely disturbing, but seeming to portray to this religious community that women were not there at all*--it's just appalling to me. Do not lie to your group, even if you disagree, for whatever reason--let them make their own decisions, and think for themselves. But alas, that does not always fly in certain groups.
Anyway, my favorite counter-response came from a liberal Jewish news source (the fact that the source is "Jewish" rendering it all the more meaningful, of course):
These attacks, as many perpetrated by apparent Muslim terrorists have been in recent years, appear to have been done by extremists. My understanding is that the vast majority of reasonable, normal Muslim folks--in the U.S. and abroad--would agree that these types of attacks are insane and wrong. I hope. One interesting point made separately by both my (Catholic) mother and my (Orthodox Jewish) peer is that the act of altering the photo by the Jewish newspaper is another example of religious extremism--not so different from the reasoning used by the Muslim terrorists who committed these atrocities.
But what certainly cannot go unnoticed in situations like this are those who are truly heroic in order to save others. We have a saying in Judaism, from the Talmud, that says: "Whoever saves a life, it is considered as if he saved an entire world." We thus have a great degree of religious respect for those who save anyone, and especially those who go out of their way to save Jews (many memories of the Holocaust, beyond the horrors, focus on those incredible gentiles who risked their own lives and families to help Jews). In this same vein of thought, here is a beautiful example of a Muslim gentleman who risked himself during the attack in the supermarket, and the positive earthly outcome that came for him: http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-2918786/Man-saved-lives-Paris-grocery-gets-French-citizenship.html. Let us never forget that even in the midst of great tragedy can come excellent--interfaith--heroism. We just have to be willing to give of ourselves, regardless of the cost. It is no small order.
As I hope this post makes clear, there is clearly disagreement even within religions. I suspect I would have very little in common with many of my very Orthodox counterparts--not least because, due to the fact that my birth mother is not Jewish, would not consider me Jewish--though we do share prayers, traditions, and a history. When we celebrate, to some extent, we do the same things. When we mourn, to some extent, we do the same things. And when we face a tragedy that affects us as Jews, such as the Charlie Hebdo attacks in the kosher super market, we do the same or feel the same things. But can we come together with just that? Some food for thought.
Now go out and love one another.
<3,
Allyson
---
*I wonder if the newspaper made a note about having edited women out of the photo, to at least maintain some semblance of journalistic ethics. I wish I read Hebrew to be able to tell--if anyone knows, please do let me know.
Well, for my first post of a new year, it is sad that one of the biggest events related to religion to take place so far in 2015--the attacks in Paris on a newspaper office that published a cartoon of the Prophet Mohammed, and at a kosher supermarket--is such a sad one, but it is. I also know that countless writers have dealt with the subject on their blogs. I want to look at a particular angle that really bothered me, and so I have chosen to focus specifically on the Jewish response to attack in the kosher supermarket.
The perspective I want to take is really more of an intra-faith (within one faith) issue, but I do not see this as divergent from the intent of the blog overall. Many people outside of Judaism might hear about these issues, and completely not understand--not understand why people did what they did, why the response was what it was, etc. So I wanted to present a specific issue to that end.
As with many religions, the more practicing movement of Orthodox Judaism has a stricter sense of modesty and gender division than does much of the more "secular" world. This translates into real life in various ways according to halakhah--maintaining certain standards of dress, for example (generally skirts for women past the knees, sleeves past the elbows, collars covering the collarbone, etc., gentlemen also adhering to similar rules to cover up). During services, the genders will be divided by a type of wall ("mechitza" pronounced meh-hee-tzaah), to avoid them seeing each other and so possibly be tempted into "impure" thoughts. Some very religious folks avoid touching members of the other gender--even for so much as a handshake.
My understanding is that much of this extreme form of modesty has to do with avoiding pre-marital sexual relations, an important prohibition in halakhic Judaism (again, as it is in many religions). The theory would be that seeing too much skin on someone, or shaking hands, could lead to more.
Apparently, for some very religious Jews, even looking on members of the other gender can be considered immodest. Of course, this sometimes borders quite strongly on feeling misogynistic when it goes so far away from the realm of what is generally considered acceptable by the majority of the world population.
So fast forward to the horrific attacks in Paris. Regardless of your opinion on whether the newspaper should have published cartoons of the Prophet Muhammad (I am of the strong opinion that they should not have done so, as it was not a very respectful, pro-interfaith move, but that is another topic for another day), I hope that those of us who interact with this blog can agree that murdering people was not the correct reaction. If you have read any of the reports, you will know that the attacks on the Charlie Hebdo office--horrible. The attacks in the kosher supermarket--horrible. All horrible.
The attacks on the kosher supermarket in particular hit home for many Jews. While I have not seen anything claiming that this was a targeted attack against Jews, it very well could be, and it is just another example of Jews being killed--from the shootings in France a few years back, to the attacks at the Jewish museum in Brussels, to the relatively recent stabbing attack in Tel Aviv, and then a bombing by Hezbollah in Israel this past week, the point is that Jews are killed on a regular basis. Not to say that other groups are not, but there is clearly a pattern that proves that antisemitism is not dead. So, sadly, this attack at the supermarket was both devastating and personal to many Jews, without being altogether too surprising. I even know at least one cohort of American Jews that flew over to Paris in the aftermath of the shooting to lend support to the Jewish community in Paris. There was, understandably (I should hope), a reaction in Jewish media sources.
This included a questionable decision by a very Orthodox news source to alter an image relevant to the tragedy. Many were aware of the collective of world leaders who gathered in Paris following the attacks in order to protest terrorism, including even leaders from both Palestine and Israel, and the inexcusable lack of American leadership at the march (politics!). But this particular Israeli paper decided to edit a key photo from the unity march, showing these important world leaders joined together in solidarity, and removed all of the images of women and made it look like none were even present at the march.
What?
Yes, they decided to edit out any sign of women in the march. Not in some obvious way that would make it clear that the photo was not the original, oh no, but an edited version that looks very much like it could be a normal photo, at least to my untrained eye. They edited out Angela Merkel, for goodness' sake, arguably the most powerful politician on the planet right now. How? What? Why? Ugh. Let's take a look:
Photo from Daily Mail; I made it awkward-big so you could see it more closely
I am sorry to say that I think it is the latter.
Claims assert that this edits was done out of "modesty," but it is fairly evident that the definition of "modesty" used by the editors of this particular, again, very religious newspaper (Hamevaser), means that even looking at women is offensive or inappropriate in some way. From one particular article, you could see how those within this particular type of Jewish community may agree: "'A woman's exterior should not be seen and photographed or paraded in front of men,' said Yosef Haim, a neighborhood resident. 'I think it's a very positive thing.'"Take a look at one article for some more details: http://news.yahoo.com/israel-paper-cuts-merkel-paris-march-photo-modesty-131410239.html
I do not approve. And as that article shows, not even all Orthodox people approve. So, please recognize this as another example of the great variety in the spectrum that is Judaism.
Unfortunately, the worst part of the response to this controversy came (unsurprisingly) from the newspaper editor: "Including a picture of a woman into something so sacred, as far as we are concerned, it can desecrate the memory of the martyrs and not the other way around," said Binyamin Lipkin (quote also from article above).
EXCUSE ME? I understand differing levels of modesty, and flatter myself that I am fairly open-minded to different cultures. One community feels that longer lengths should be upheld for clothing? Okay. Everyone should wear a head covering? Okay. I personally am not a fan of gendered restrictions (if I want to wear pants, and men are allowed to wear pants, you'd better know that I will be wearing pants), but I can at least understand modesty restrictions. For example, I tend to make sure my shoulders are covered in a synagogue, my skirt or pants go down to what I personally consider respectable, etc. and I know that what is considered "appropriate" differs for everyone.
But this incident, this altering that makes it seem like women did not participate, is appalling to me. Already, the significantly different percentages of world leaders who are male vs. female is extremely disturbing, but seeming to portray to this religious community that women were not there at all*--it's just appalling to me. Do not lie to your group, even if you disagree, for whatever reason--let them make their own decisions, and think for themselves. But alas, that does not always fly in certain groups.
Anyway, my favorite counter-response came from a liberal Jewish news source (the fact that the source is "Jewish" rendering it all the more meaningful, of course):
Merkel, Merkel, Merkel: http://tabletmag.com/scroll/188334/the-million-merkel-march
These attacks, as many perpetrated by apparent Muslim terrorists have been in recent years, appear to have been done by extremists. My understanding is that the vast majority of reasonable, normal Muslim folks--in the U.S. and abroad--would agree that these types of attacks are insane and wrong. I hope. One interesting point made separately by both my (Catholic) mother and my (Orthodox Jewish) peer is that the act of altering the photo by the Jewish newspaper is another example of religious extremism--not so different from the reasoning used by the Muslim terrorists who committed these atrocities.
But what certainly cannot go unnoticed in situations like this are those who are truly heroic in order to save others. We have a saying in Judaism, from the Talmud, that says: "Whoever saves a life, it is considered as if he saved an entire world." We thus have a great degree of religious respect for those who save anyone, and especially those who go out of their way to save Jews (many memories of the Holocaust, beyond the horrors, focus on those incredible gentiles who risked their own lives and families to help Jews). In this same vein of thought, here is a beautiful example of a Muslim gentleman who risked himself during the attack in the supermarket, and the positive earthly outcome that came for him: http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-2918786/Man-saved-lives-Paris-grocery-gets-French-citizenship.html. Let us never forget that even in the midst of great tragedy can come excellent--interfaith--heroism. We just have to be willing to give of ourselves, regardless of the cost. It is no small order.
As I hope this post makes clear, there is clearly disagreement even within religions. I suspect I would have very little in common with many of my very Orthodox counterparts--not least because, due to the fact that my birth mother is not Jewish, would not consider me Jewish--though we do share prayers, traditions, and a history. When we celebrate, to some extent, we do the same things. When we mourn, to some extent, we do the same things. And when we face a tragedy that affects us as Jews, such as the Charlie Hebdo attacks in the kosher super market, we do the same or feel the same things. But can we come together with just that? Some food for thought.
Now go out and love one another.
<3,
Allyson
---
*I wonder if the newspaper made a note about having edited women out of the photo, to at least maintain some semblance of journalistic ethics. I wish I read Hebrew to be able to tell--if anyone knows, please do let me know.
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