Hello, friends.
For those who have known me for some time, you know that I like to move abroad--start over in a brand new place, have new adventures, make new friends, and hopefully learn more so that I can make a difference.
So for those who do not know, that time has come again. On September 2nd, I am moving to Jerusalem, Israel for an academic year.
I left my position working with different religious groups helping Syrian refugees back in the spring in preparation for this move. I will be in Jerusalem (the more religious of Israel's two major cities, the more secular one being Tel Aviv) studying Jewish Text and Conflict Resolution as a Conflict Resolution Fellow at a beit midrash ("house of learning"--not quite a university, but a type of school). I will hopefully have the opportunity to intern with an interfaith organization in Israel outside of my studies, as well as interact with a number of friends living in Israel over the next few months. I have been spending much of the past three months traveling here and abroad, emptying my apartment in New York, and, most recently, learning Hebrew.
I have friends from many different faiths and cultures, and I am hopeful that this next year will bring a myriad of valuable experiences. I suspect I will partner with some of these colleagues on various interfaith projects throughout my time in Israel, and I hope to make it a very meaningful year. If anyone makes it over to Israel from September-May and is interested in learning more about the interfaith initiatives happening over there, please feel free to reach out.
My one note is that while it is clear that the main Israeli-Palestinian conflict is not solely based on religion, and so my role in trying to build peaceful initiatives there may be limited, I am hopeful that I will contribute what I can--and learn even more. Please wish me luck/pray for me/send some good karma my way, as my moving date--and new adventure--rapidly approaches.
Now go out and love one another.
<3,
Allyson
Wednesday, August 24, 2016
Saturday, July 30, 2016
The Power of Prayer
Hello, friends.
How often have you heard someone say, "I'll pray for you"? Maybe you were sick, or having a hard time, or had recently lost a loved one, and someone said, "I'll pray for you." One of the best Christmas movies ever made, It's a Wonderful Life, starts with a lot of people praying for the main character, who is going through a personal crisis. Now, in that movie a literal angel is sent down from above to help him. But what about in real life? Does anything really come of it?
There are definitely people who believe in the so-called "power of prayer"--that by praying to the Divine (or a saint, or another religious figure), something changes that can help the person improve. I figure it's at the very least like sending out good energy into the universe--it lets someone know they're in my thoughts, that I want to help if possible, and just sends more positive vibes out into the world. This is generally my goal, and goodness knows we need more good energy out there.
Now, I've heard the phrase "I'll pray for you" uttered a number of times--and I've said it myself to people, though I am careful to whom I say it. Why? And how is this an interfaith issue?
Well, perhaps we can say in some way it is a minor interfaith issue. My hope would be that anyone--whether religious, secular, atheist, agnostic, spiritual, or something else--would accept the phrase for what it means (I interpret it as, "I care about you and want you to get to a better physical/mental place"), and not be offended. That said, I do try to think about the recipient of the sentiment when I give it. Sometimes I might say, "I'll send positive thoughts your way" to one of my less religious friends, for example. But hopefully no one would ever be offended by a well-intentioned phrase.
We can easily compare this to the "Merry Christmas" issue that came up a few years back, an issue that is ongoing. For those who are not aware, there was an issue some years back in the U.S. in which around the December holidays, people in stores were wishing customers a, "Merry Christmas," and some folks who were not Christian and so did not celebrate the holiday were offended by this.
My take on the Christmas topic has always been nuanced--I am not going to be annoyed by anyone wishing me well; we need more positivity in the world. So if you want to wish me, a Jewish woman, a "Merry Christmas" (or Ramadan mubarak, or Happy Kwanzaa, or whatever), please do so, and do so loudly and with a big smile (I dig enthusiasm).
However, on the other hand, as someone who is conscious and respectful of the diversity in the world, unless I saw a pretty clear indication of someone's faith practice (a yamulke, for example), I would usually choose a more generic phrase when speaking to a stranger around a holiday time. Not to minimize anything about my holiday or theirs, but because I want to try to create a world in which more people feel accepted and acknowledged for being who they are, without a repeated reminder that they may be in the minority where they live.
What do you think? Should we keep it generic to make more people feel included? Or should we not modify our religious inclinations to suit others?
I write this post because these past months have been challenging ones in a lot of ways, for myself and some of my closest friends, many dealing with either life challenges, health issues, or mental health issues (or some combination of these). So I've heard or said the phrase, "I'll pray for you" a few extra times in my life recently, and I wanted to share the sentiment with all of you.
So I ask, if you're willing--please pray for me, I'll pray for you.
Now go out and love one another.
<3,
Allyson
How often have you heard someone say, "I'll pray for you"? Maybe you were sick, or having a hard time, or had recently lost a loved one, and someone said, "I'll pray for you." One of the best Christmas movies ever made, It's a Wonderful Life, starts with a lot of people praying for the main character, who is going through a personal crisis. Now, in that movie a literal angel is sent down from above to help him. But what about in real life? Does anything really come of it?
There are definitely people who believe in the so-called "power of prayer"--that by praying to the Divine (or a saint, or another religious figure), something changes that can help the person improve. I figure it's at the very least like sending out good energy into the universe--it lets someone know they're in my thoughts, that I want to help if possible, and just sends more positive vibes out into the world. This is generally my goal, and goodness knows we need more good energy out there.
Now, I've heard the phrase "I'll pray for you" uttered a number of times--and I've said it myself to people, though I am careful to whom I say it. Why? And how is this an interfaith issue?
Well, perhaps we can say in some way it is a minor interfaith issue. My hope would be that anyone--whether religious, secular, atheist, agnostic, spiritual, or something else--would accept the phrase for what it means (I interpret it as, "I care about you and want you to get to a better physical/mental place"), and not be offended. That said, I do try to think about the recipient of the sentiment when I give it. Sometimes I might say, "I'll send positive thoughts your way" to one of my less religious friends, for example. But hopefully no one would ever be offended by a well-intentioned phrase.
We can easily compare this to the "Merry Christmas" issue that came up a few years back, an issue that is ongoing. For those who are not aware, there was an issue some years back in the U.S. in which around the December holidays, people in stores were wishing customers a, "Merry Christmas," and some folks who were not Christian and so did not celebrate the holiday were offended by this.
My take on the Christmas topic has always been nuanced--I am not going to be annoyed by anyone wishing me well; we need more positivity in the world. So if you want to wish me, a Jewish woman, a "Merry Christmas" (or Ramadan mubarak, or Happy Kwanzaa, or whatever), please do so, and do so loudly and with a big smile (I dig enthusiasm).
However, on the other hand, as someone who is conscious and respectful of the diversity in the world, unless I saw a pretty clear indication of someone's faith practice (a yamulke, for example), I would usually choose a more generic phrase when speaking to a stranger around a holiday time. Not to minimize anything about my holiday or theirs, but because I want to try to create a world in which more people feel accepted and acknowledged for being who they are, without a repeated reminder that they may be in the minority where they live.
What do you think? Should we keep it generic to make more people feel included? Or should we not modify our religious inclinations to suit others?
I write this post because these past months have been challenging ones in a lot of ways, for myself and some of my closest friends, many dealing with either life challenges, health issues, or mental health issues (or some combination of these). So I've heard or said the phrase, "I'll pray for you" a few extra times in my life recently, and I wanted to share the sentiment with all of you.
So I ask, if you're willing--please pray for me, I'll pray for you.
Now go out and love one another.
<3,
Allyson
Wednesday, March 9, 2016
Interfaith Dialogue vs. Social Action
Dear friends,
Hello! I want to have a short exploratory session about how we go about interfaith relations. I use this big term ("interfaith relations") a lot, right? Or the hashtag, #interfaithallthetime. But what does it really mean?
Particularly in the last few months, a type of division in thinking about interfaith has established itself in my mind. It is the argument of whether interfaith dialogue just for the sake of dialogue--for example, getting a group of Christian and Muslim college students in a room to discuss something like food traditions--is worthwhile. Whether the discussion itself has value. The discussion can be about theology, practice, culture, or any other of a myriad of topics. It can mostly be a meeting to eat a meal together with no set topic. It can be an activity--like going to a mosque together as an interfaith group (see: things I did last week. A topic for another time). There are a handful of organizations that focus on this. For example, I recently attended a meeting of a group called the Sisterhood of Salaam Shalom. It operates on a chapter basis, so a group of women comes together in a city or town and decide to meet regularly. This is a group in the U.S. that brings Muslim and Jewish women together to be friends and share in life, somewhat informally, with the main goal of building "sisterhood." It is a very interesting concept, and seems successful. Now, many women in the U.S. can personally stand up against antisemitism or Islamophobia because they personally know women from the other faith; it is really amazing. I am not saying they do not sometimes work on social action projects together, I am just saying that their main goal is not the second step as much as that first step--dialogue between people of different faiths.
Then, there are individuals and groups that say no, this is not enough. Sure, bringing together a group of rabbis and imams to learn Scripture together (for example) is great and meaningful--for the people in the room. Whether the impact is felt beyond those directly involved in the process can be tough to tell. Folks in this camp often argue that interfaith coalition building has to be done for a purpose--to make a difference in the sense of working together on a social action project. For example, perhaps bringing together local Hindu and Sikh folks to fight poverty in their neighborhood. Some feel that the only value in interfaith is in this project work.
The problem I see with focusing only on this second one (i.e. the focus of interfaith should be social action) is that sometimes then the valuable (as I see it) dialogue can be lost. We can become so focused on saving the world for the second project--for example, eradicating hunger in our city--that we forget about the value of the interaction between peoples of different faiths. And I do not just mean accidental interactions--I mean intentional interaction, discussing similarities, discussing differences., looking at religious texts, or religious practices, and not being afraid to confront these. It frequently takes time and a long process of building respect, but it is very important and rewarding.
In this same vein, I see great value in talking about our religious (or non-religious) differences. I know many people like to focus on the similarities between difference faiths, and it is great. Yes, many faiths preach helping the poor, helping the stranger, etc. and this is an excellent point to make. But I worry that sometimes those who perhaps do not (over-) think about this as much as I do might subconsciously be ignoring the very real differences between religions. If we make the argument that today to some extent the biggest religious "adversaries" that the world has set up is Jews vs. Muslims (as fueled by the conflict Israel vs. Palestine), then a surface-level interfaith conversation for me would be one that says, "Look at the similarities between kosher and halal food practices. People say we should hate each other, but he have so much in common in our history and traditions." This is enormously important, certainly, but for me, the conversation should not start there. The conversation should not stop at laughing at the similarity between the words "ketubah" (a traditional Jewish wedding contract) and "kitab" (a Muslim engagement/wedding contract). Because there is value in the difference. Why do Muslims pray five times a day? Why do Mormon folks wear a special garment under their clothing? Why do some Sikhs wear turbans? These are just some easy-to-see differences between some of the major world faiths, and being willing to open oneself up in a potentially scary and painful way can lead to really important and fruitful discussions.
I am planning to go on Birthright* in May, and I had my eligibility interview today. This is really just a five-minute discussion about my background, to make sure I am both Jewish and have answered everything honestly in my application. So of course they asked about whether I have been to Israel--which I have, once, with a mostly Christian group of folks (lots of Catholic mass, all the time!). But as I explained, my life, working with people of different faiths, only adds value to my own life and religious practice. I mean, we all know by now how abnormally excited I get when meeting people from different faiths--you should see me around Mormon folks, my joy is a little ridiculous--but there really is a value in hearing about the difference. We learn so much about what we believe, so much of what we hold dear, when we have that challenged by a new way of thinking. And if we stick with what we believed--and not out of stubbornness or blind acceptance, but out of a genuine and deeper understanding of it after the encounter--then that is an amazing thing to come from dialogue.
So you may guess that I fall more into the first camp above: interfaith dialogue is extremely valuable, merely for the sake of dialogue. I think that while it may only seem to affect the people in the room, those people then take those experiences and share them, use them to guide their own interactions with other people, and so a type of grassroots ripple effect takes place. This is not to say I don't think the second step, the social action part, should not happen--it is also great and valuable. I just think something equally valuable is lost if we skip over the dialogue. If we bring together that group of Christian and Muslim college students to pass out food to the homeless it is great, but if we don't also lead them in conversation about their faiths, we are glossing over both key aspects of their own lives, and key aspects of why they want to feed the homeless in the first place. Plus, my passion lies very firmly in the first camp. If I could spend all of my time meeting with people of different faiths, asking them questions, and helping facilitate them asking each other questions, I would be an extra happy person.
So what do you think? Is there value just in the dialogue? Or do we need the next step of social action to make the exchange worthwhile? Please leave a comment with your thoughts!
Now, as always, go out and love one another.
<3,
Allyson
---
*For those who are unaware, the Birthright trip is an interesting set up that the Jewish community put together some time ago that offers young Jews (ages 18-26) a free ten-day trip to Israel. The trip has many goals--not the least of which is creating a sense of connection in young Jews to the state of Israel...and to encourage young Jews to marry other Jews--and is somewhat of a staple among today's young Jews. I have not yet been on this trip, for a variety of reasons, but intend to go in May.
Hello! I want to have a short exploratory session about how we go about interfaith relations. I use this big term ("interfaith relations") a lot, right? Or the hashtag, #interfaithallthetime. But what does it really mean?
Particularly in the last few months, a type of division in thinking about interfaith has established itself in my mind. It is the argument of whether interfaith dialogue just for the sake of dialogue--for example, getting a group of Christian and Muslim college students in a room to discuss something like food traditions--is worthwhile. Whether the discussion itself has value. The discussion can be about theology, practice, culture, or any other of a myriad of topics. It can mostly be a meeting to eat a meal together with no set topic. It can be an activity--like going to a mosque together as an interfaith group (see: things I did last week. A topic for another time). There are a handful of organizations that focus on this. For example, I recently attended a meeting of a group called the Sisterhood of Salaam Shalom. It operates on a chapter basis, so a group of women comes together in a city or town and decide to meet regularly. This is a group in the U.S. that brings Muslim and Jewish women together to be friends and share in life, somewhat informally, with the main goal of building "sisterhood." It is a very interesting concept, and seems successful. Now, many women in the U.S. can personally stand up against antisemitism or Islamophobia because they personally know women from the other faith; it is really amazing. I am not saying they do not sometimes work on social action projects together, I am just saying that their main goal is not the second step as much as that first step--dialogue between people of different faiths.
Then, there are individuals and groups that say no, this is not enough. Sure, bringing together a group of rabbis and imams to learn Scripture together (for example) is great and meaningful--for the people in the room. Whether the impact is felt beyond those directly involved in the process can be tough to tell. Folks in this camp often argue that interfaith coalition building has to be done for a purpose--to make a difference in the sense of working together on a social action project. For example, perhaps bringing together local Hindu and Sikh folks to fight poverty in their neighborhood. Some feel that the only value in interfaith is in this project work.
The problem I see with focusing only on this second one (i.e. the focus of interfaith should be social action) is that sometimes then the valuable (as I see it) dialogue can be lost. We can become so focused on saving the world for the second project--for example, eradicating hunger in our city--that we forget about the value of the interaction between peoples of different faiths. And I do not just mean accidental interactions--I mean intentional interaction, discussing similarities, discussing differences., looking at religious texts, or religious practices, and not being afraid to confront these. It frequently takes time and a long process of building respect, but it is very important and rewarding.
In this same vein, I see great value in talking about our religious (or non-religious) differences. I know many people like to focus on the similarities between difference faiths, and it is great. Yes, many faiths preach helping the poor, helping the stranger, etc. and this is an excellent point to make. But I worry that sometimes those who perhaps do not (over-) think about this as much as I do might subconsciously be ignoring the very real differences between religions. If we make the argument that today to some extent the biggest religious "adversaries" that the world has set up is Jews vs. Muslims (as fueled by the conflict Israel vs. Palestine), then a surface-level interfaith conversation for me would be one that says, "Look at the similarities between kosher and halal food practices. People say we should hate each other, but he have so much in common in our history and traditions." This is enormously important, certainly, but for me, the conversation should not start there. The conversation should not stop at laughing at the similarity between the words "ketubah" (a traditional Jewish wedding contract) and "kitab" (a Muslim engagement/wedding contract). Because there is value in the difference. Why do Muslims pray five times a day? Why do Mormon folks wear a special garment under their clothing? Why do some Sikhs wear turbans? These are just some easy-to-see differences between some of the major world faiths, and being willing to open oneself up in a potentially scary and painful way can lead to really important and fruitful discussions.
I am planning to go on Birthright* in May, and I had my eligibility interview today. This is really just a five-minute discussion about my background, to make sure I am both Jewish and have answered everything honestly in my application. So of course they asked about whether I have been to Israel--which I have, once, with a mostly Christian group of folks (lots of Catholic mass, all the time!). But as I explained, my life, working with people of different faiths, only adds value to my own life and religious practice. I mean, we all know by now how abnormally excited I get when meeting people from different faiths--you should see me around Mormon folks, my joy is a little ridiculous--but there really is a value in hearing about the difference. We learn so much about what we believe, so much of what we hold dear, when we have that challenged by a new way of thinking. And if we stick with what we believed--and not out of stubbornness or blind acceptance, but out of a genuine and deeper understanding of it after the encounter--then that is an amazing thing to come from dialogue.
So you may guess that I fall more into the first camp above: interfaith dialogue is extremely valuable, merely for the sake of dialogue. I think that while it may only seem to affect the people in the room, those people then take those experiences and share them, use them to guide their own interactions with other people, and so a type of grassroots ripple effect takes place. This is not to say I don't think the second step, the social action part, should not happen--it is also great and valuable. I just think something equally valuable is lost if we skip over the dialogue. If we bring together that group of Christian and Muslim college students to pass out food to the homeless it is great, but if we don't also lead them in conversation about their faiths, we are glossing over both key aspects of their own lives, and key aspects of why they want to feed the homeless in the first place. Plus, my passion lies very firmly in the first camp. If I could spend all of my time meeting with people of different faiths, asking them questions, and helping facilitate them asking each other questions, I would be an extra happy person.
So what do you think? Is there value just in the dialogue? Or do we need the next step of social action to make the exchange worthwhile? Please leave a comment with your thoughts!
Now, as always, go out and love one another.
<3,
Allyson
---
*For those who are unaware, the Birthright trip is an interesting set up that the Jewish community put together some time ago that offers young Jews (ages 18-26) a free ten-day trip to Israel. The trip has many goals--not the least of which is creating a sense of connection in young Jews to the state of Israel...and to encourage young Jews to marry other Jews--and is somewhat of a staple among today's young Jews. I have not yet been on this trip, for a variety of reasons, but intend to go in May.
Monday, February 15, 2016
Interfaith and Finding New Friends in Morocco
Hello, friends.
A new year, a lot of changes in my thinking--it has been quite a start to 2016. Even though it has taken me severely too long to share my thoughts on an important trip I took in December, I thought it was still relevant to share my thoughts since it was such an important interfaith and intercultural experience.
But first, I would like to wish all a belated Happy Valentine's Day. Let's all spread some more love out there--as much as we possibly can.
So, back to the topic at hand. Some of you may have known that in mid-December I headed off to Rabat, the capital of Morocco for a five-day interfaith conference with 100 young people, ages 18-35, representing 74 countries and a number of religions. Can you imagine? That many young people, from so many amazing and diverse places, who are all passionate about interfaith, gathering in one place to live and learn together. If it sounds magical, it kind of was. The program is called ACWAY, which stands for "A Common Word Among the Youth." (You can read more about the program here: acway.org) It is based off an earlier initiative that started in 2007, which was a letter signed by many Muslim leaders addressed to people of the Christian faith, advocating peace between the two religions. My program, ACWAY, expanded this idea specifically to youth, and to members of many religions and those who do not follow a religion.
The ACWAY conference in mid-December was my first time in Africa--and my first time in a predominantly Muslim country. I have never been to a conference quite like this before. We were together almost all day for five days, and left Rabat truly caring about each other more than I would have thought possible. Maybe it was because we were all around the same age and so could understand each other, maybe it was the fact that we all truly hold a passion for interfaith and intercultural relations, or maybe it was just something special about this group, but it was a truly moving experience.
While it was meant to be an interfaith conference specifically, there was surprisingly less discussion of religion during the organized sessions than I would have imagined (though we did that on our own). So what was really critical for my own development was the intercultural aspect. To hear about folks from Africa, or the Middle East, or Eastern Europe, or really everywhere, all of whom had moving, and sometimes tragic, stories to share was an amazing and humbling experience. Their willingness to share these stories, really the fact that all of us were willing to share so openly and so quickly with near-strangers, is what really made the conference a success. I learned about my new friends who had fled war, or who had had loved ones die in conflict. Even as I shared my own interfaith experiences and background, I could not help but feel so fortunate to have never had to live through such real danger and conflict. It was very inspiring to see how these young folks persevered through and beyond such circumstances.
Even while we did not focus on religion as explicitly as we expected, I still learned quite a bit more about Islam from my new friends. Despite being so involved in interfaith relations, I previously had very few close personal contacts who practice the Muslim faith, so this was critically important for my own religious understanding. In Morocco I was able to not only meet and befriend many adherents of this religion, but also see how Muslim practice can differ based on the culture and country of its adherents. We talked about physical contact between the genders, drinking alcohol, polygamy (I did not realize just how much this is done in practice...), and so much more. Even in moments of levity (a group of 17 of us dancing the final night in a club at the bottom of a ship) we were still having intense discussions (no, really, I promise, most Jews do drink alcohol). Discussions subsequent to the conference have only helped me learn even more about Islam and other cultures.
So now the idea is that we will all run two interfaith/intercultural projects in our home communities in the six months following the conference. I have been working on some preliminary thoughts, but if anyone has a stroke of brilliance about interfaith-type projects, please feel free to share in the comments.
Now go out and love one another.
<3,
Allyson
ACWAY is a project of Right Start Foundation International, generously supported by KAICIID Dialogue Centre.
A new year, a lot of changes in my thinking--it has been quite a start to 2016. Even though it has taken me severely too long to share my thoughts on an important trip I took in December, I thought it was still relevant to share my thoughts since it was such an important interfaith and intercultural experience.
But first, I would like to wish all a belated Happy Valentine's Day. Let's all spread some more love out there--as much as we possibly can.
So, back to the topic at hand. Some of you may have known that in mid-December I headed off to Rabat, the capital of Morocco for a five-day interfaith conference with 100 young people, ages 18-35, representing 74 countries and a number of religions. Can you imagine? That many young people, from so many amazing and diverse places, who are all passionate about interfaith, gathering in one place to live and learn together. If it sounds magical, it kind of was. The program is called ACWAY, which stands for "A Common Word Among the Youth." (You can read more about the program here: acway.org) It is based off an earlier initiative that started in 2007, which was a letter signed by many Muslim leaders addressed to people of the Christian faith, advocating peace between the two religions. My program, ACWAY, expanded this idea specifically to youth, and to members of many religions and those who do not follow a religion.
The ACWAY conference in mid-December was my first time in Africa--and my first time in a predominantly Muslim country. I have never been to a conference quite like this before. We were together almost all day for five days, and left Rabat truly caring about each other more than I would have thought possible. Maybe it was because we were all around the same age and so could understand each other, maybe it was the fact that we all truly hold a passion for interfaith and intercultural relations, or maybe it was just something special about this group, but it was a truly moving experience.
In this photo we have Christian, Jewish, Muslim, and Sikh friends celebrating the Jewish holiday of Hanukkah
(in the lobby of our hotel in Morocco)
While it was meant to be an interfaith conference specifically, there was surprisingly less discussion of religion during the organized sessions than I would have imagined (though we did that on our own). So what was really critical for my own development was the intercultural aspect. To hear about folks from Africa, or the Middle East, or Eastern Europe, or really everywhere, all of whom had moving, and sometimes tragic, stories to share was an amazing and humbling experience. Their willingness to share these stories, really the fact that all of us were willing to share so openly and so quickly with near-strangers, is what really made the conference a success. I learned about my new friends who had fled war, or who had had loved ones die in conflict. Even as I shared my own interfaith experiences and background, I could not help but feel so fortunate to have never had to live through such real danger and conflict. It was very inspiring to see how these young folks persevered through and beyond such circumstances.
Even while we did not focus on religion as explicitly as we expected, I still learned quite a bit more about Islam from my new friends. Despite being so involved in interfaith relations, I previously had very few close personal contacts who practice the Muslim faith, so this was critically important for my own religious understanding. In Morocco I was able to not only meet and befriend many adherents of this religion, but also see how Muslim practice can differ based on the culture and country of its adherents. We talked about physical contact between the genders, drinking alcohol, polygamy (I did not realize just how much this is done in practice...), and so much more. Even in moments of levity (a group of 17 of us dancing the final night in a club at the bottom of a ship) we were still having intense discussions (no, really, I promise, most Jews do drink alcohol). Discussions subsequent to the conference have only helped me learn even more about Islam and other cultures.
At dinner one night in Morocco with some new friends
So now the idea is that we will all run two interfaith/intercultural projects in our home communities in the six months following the conference. I have been working on some preliminary thoughts, but if anyone has a stroke of brilliance about interfaith-type projects, please feel free to share in the comments.
Now go out and love one another.
<3,
Allyson
ACWAY is a project of Right Start Foundation International, generously supported by KAICIID Dialogue Centre.
Wednesday, November 11, 2015
Peace in a Busy World
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
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
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
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
Interfaith and the Environment: Quoted in a Zoroastrian Publication
Hello, friends. Last August, I attended the Parliament of the World's Religions in Chicago and was excited to present on a few panels wi...
-
Hello, friends. " It’s a disgusting thing to call someone. Dirty blood, see. Common blood. It’s ridiculous. " --Ron Weasley, ...
-
Hello, friends! For those who have not yet seen it, I wanted to share a post I wrote that was recently published on the Union for Reform J... -
Hello, friends. As many of you might have guessed, this post has been spurred by the recent announcement that the current pope, the leader...
