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:

Photo from Daily Mail; I made it awkward-big so you could see it more closely

 

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):

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.

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

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*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