I am proud to suffer from the “obsessional neurosis” that I call Judaism. As with other obsessional neuroses, Judaism consists of “obsessive thinking, obsessive ideas, obsessive impulses, and the like” (Freud 212). Each Jewish “obsessive action,” has a specific meaning, and why not embrace that meaning? Why not fall in love with the fact that I can store complex or difficult thoughts in the form of ritual? I am happy to utilize Judaism partly as the defense against myself that Freud argues but more as a barrier between my initial impulses and a better communication of those impulses to the outside world. As Ari Goldman says, “Being Jewish is about feeling good. It is about finding meaning” (Ochs 266).
Throughout this semester, I have increasingly found the ability to relate ritual theory to my every day life. I have started analyzing religious objects and situations and noticing religious leaders’ or texts’ uses of the ritual vocabulary that initially annoyed me in Driver. At services, in conversation with other Jews, and in my Hebrew class, I pick up on changing ritual and formulate new questions about and ideas for ritual. I realize how much my personal perception of Judaism has changed since the beginning of the school year with my relationship to Hillel and the courses that I have taken here. Most importantly, I realize how infinitely the transformation of Judaism and of myself through Judaism can and must progress. Now, I must prompt myself to ask questions, to view my perceived Judaism with different mindsets, and of course, to “record, take it down, and collect” (Ochs 260). I now have the toolbox to both argue for and create new ritual.
Thursday, April 29, 2010
Tuesday, April 27, 2010
Materiality, Text, and [Of Course] Transformation
In Jewish ritual, texts and ritual objects are often intertwined and interchangeable. In a previous chapter, Ochs gave a list of the functions of new Jewish objects: “They introduce. […] They retell sacred stories. […] They generate rules and spiritual possibilities. […] They make ritual tangible. […] They provide assurance. […] They appeal to those on the fringes. […] They address communal need” (Ochs 108-109). Both the text and the materiality of such objects as Holocaust Torahs and wedding booklets fulfill the aforementioned needs of new ritual objects.
Whether powerfully holy or subtle and recyclable, ritual texts can fulfill Ochs’s aforementioned scheme. In order to use a Holocaust Torah effectively, a congregation must take into consideration its textual contents and its material history. Beyond its existence as a ritual object, the Torah exists as a symbolic being, as a channel between human and God. As in Ochs’s story about a congregation’s adoption of a Holocaust Torah, the Torah must be transformed into life in order for the Torah to transform the congregation. A congregation can physically and orally utilize its new ritual object to retell an important story in Jewish history, to materialize that history, to act as an object of interest to bring congregants “on the fringes” closer to the center of the congregation, and of course, as the textual object it was originally intended to be. In a similar manner, both the physical presence of a wedding booklet and the text inside of it can act as a couple’s confession of their desire for changed ritual. With enough personal investment, such an object can act as introduction, storyteller, pacifier, and article of interest. By ritualizing objects and text such as Holocaust Torahs and wedding booklets, individuals and communities can access the opportunity for transformation.
Whether powerfully holy or subtle and recyclable, ritual texts can fulfill Ochs’s aforementioned scheme. In order to use a Holocaust Torah effectively, a congregation must take into consideration its textual contents and its material history. Beyond its existence as a ritual object, the Torah exists as a symbolic being, as a channel between human and God. As in Ochs’s story about a congregation’s adoption of a Holocaust Torah, the Torah must be transformed into life in order for the Torah to transform the congregation. A congregation can physically and orally utilize its new ritual object to retell an important story in Jewish history, to materialize that history, to act as an object of interest to bring congregants “on the fringes” closer to the center of the congregation, and of course, as the textual object it was originally intended to be. In a similar manner, both the physical presence of a wedding booklet and the text inside of it can act as a couple’s confession of their desire for changed ritual. With enough personal investment, such an object can act as introduction, storyteller, pacifier, and article of interest. By ritualizing objects and text such as Holocaust Torahs and wedding booklets, individuals and communities can access the opportunity for transformation.
Thursday, April 22, 2010
The Coexistence of Change and Continuity - Timbrel Style
When the Lubavitcher Rebbe, Menachem Mendel Schneerson, was dying in 1994, a new ritual object, a “Miriam’s tambourine” arose among Lubavitch women around the world. Just as Miriam and the other Israelite women had when they escaped Egypt through the parting of the Red Sea, these Lubavitch women would dance with their tambourines to herald in a better era. The Lubavitch women believed that, instead of dying, their Rebbe would arise as the Messiah and herald in the Messianic Age. In the months before the Rebbe’s death, Lubavitch women bought these tambourines and carried them around in order to play them when the Rebbe arose as the Messiah. Even after the Rebbe’s death, the women carried around their tambourines as symbols of an upcoming Messianic Age nevertheless. The symbolism of the positivism of Miriam and the Biblical Israelite women had grown on the Lubavitch women, and their ritual object had transformed both itself and the identity of the women.
Even though the Lubavitch women follow what is often considered ultra-Orthodox Judaism, the women’s view of ritual still transforms itself and themselves. These women can be considered both “guardians of continuity” and “agents of change,” professing to follow the exact words of the Torah while changing ritual in order to fit their personal interpretations. As Barbara Orenstein claims that Judaism views the progress of the world as both linear and cyclical, effective Judaism must place continuity and change in constant dialectic with one another. Driver’s order and transformation must constantly balance each other out. From the smorgasbord Judaism of the Rabbinic era to feminist innovation to Lubavitch symbolism, Judaism has always faced the challenges of both staying true to its thousand-years old history while avoiding the ritual boredom that may accompany such truth.
Even though the Lubavitch women follow what is often considered ultra-Orthodox Judaism, the women’s view of ritual still transforms itself and themselves. These women can be considered both “guardians of continuity” and “agents of change,” professing to follow the exact words of the Torah while changing ritual in order to fit their personal interpretations. As Barbara Orenstein claims that Judaism views the progress of the world as both linear and cyclical, effective Judaism must place continuity and change in constant dialectic with one another. Driver’s order and transformation must constantly balance each other out. From the smorgasbord Judaism of the Rabbinic era to feminist innovation to Lubavitch symbolism, Judaism has always faced the challenges of both staying true to its thousand-years old history while avoiding the ritual boredom that may accompany such truth.
Tuesday, April 20, 2010
Material Culture in New Judaism
Anthropologist James Diet defines the term “material culture” as “objects used by humans to cope with the physical world, facilitate social intercourse, and to benefit our state of mind” (Ochs 90). One small object can either bring a thousand big ideas into the same perspective for a few people. One small object can also mean a thousand things to one person. Because of its materiality, one object has an infinite number of uses, and its mere presence can inspire an infinite number of new practices. Thus, the mere presence of an object can inspire the practice of a new ritual.
In Judaism, objects can help provide identity, inspire new ritual, and provoke a sense of community between Jews. Even though ritual objects in Judaism can be broken into categories of klei kodesh, tashmishei kedushah, tashmishei mitzvah, and reshut, from most to least sacred, respectively, individuals can place more personal value in categorically less sacred objects because of that objects’ material versatility. Whether the an object is explicitly identifiable as used by Jews or implicitly Jewish in the eyes of someone who associates that object with Judaism, it still has endless possibilities for use in new Jewish ritual. According to Vanessa L. Ochs, Jewish objects can “introduce,” “retell sacred stories,” “generate rules and spiritual possibilities,” “make ritual tangible,” “provide assurance,” “appeal to those on the fringes,” and “address communal needs” (Ochs 108, 109). Hence, objects as agents of innovation can bring more community, order, and transformation into Judaism.
In Judaism, objects can help provide identity, inspire new ritual, and provoke a sense of community between Jews. Even though ritual objects in Judaism can be broken into categories of klei kodesh, tashmishei kedushah, tashmishei mitzvah, and reshut, from most to least sacred, respectively, individuals can place more personal value in categorically less sacred objects because of that objects’ material versatility. Whether the an object is explicitly identifiable as used by Jews or implicitly Jewish in the eyes of someone who associates that object with Judaism, it still has endless possibilities for use in new Jewish ritual. According to Vanessa L. Ochs, Jewish objects can “introduce,” “retell sacred stories,” “generate rules and spiritual possibilities,” “make ritual tangible,” “provide assurance,” “appeal to those on the fringes,” and “address communal needs” (Ochs 108, 109). Hence, objects as agents of innovation can bring more community, order, and transformation into Judaism.
Thursday, April 15, 2010
Agency in Ritual Narrative
Ochs, "The Narrative Approach"
“The act of telling the story of a ritual – like a ritual itself – can exist in multiple forms that we continually shape and reshape,” (Ochs 79). Just as ritual can occur in infinite forms, reflection upon a single ritual can occur in infinite forms. While Driver focuses on the change that ritual in general evokes, Ochs focuses on how to achieve successful ritual in a world in which perception of ritual is not always positive. Driver encourages jumping into ritual but does not quite explain how to get there physically or psychologically. Ochs, on the other hand, stresses the use of material objects, text, and narrative as part of the complex, messy process of the innovation of ritual. Through description of the contrasting feelings of connectedness and individuality, Ochs gives the how and why of the aspects of rituals and their resulting social gifts that Driver champions.
With Ochs’s examples of ritual innovation from the past few decades, we can better appreciate the ritual agency that has been necessary in Judaism for its thousands of years of existence, as demonstrated by the writings of Marcus and Goldberg. If so much change has occurred in such a short time span, then modern Jews can speculate on how much change must have occurred even within the hundreds of years between the Biblical period and the Rabbinic period. By comparing present change to the past, we can identify what elements of Judaism stay essential to ritual and what elements are more flexible. Thus, we can tweak Jewish ritual so that it can give us that feeling that finally leads to the production of Driver’s social gifts of order, community, and transformation.
“The act of telling the story of a ritual – like a ritual itself – can exist in multiple forms that we continually shape and reshape,” (Ochs 79). Just as ritual can occur in infinite forms, reflection upon a single ritual can occur in infinite forms. While Driver focuses on the change that ritual in general evokes, Ochs focuses on how to achieve successful ritual in a world in which perception of ritual is not always positive. Driver encourages jumping into ritual but does not quite explain how to get there physically or psychologically. Ochs, on the other hand, stresses the use of material objects, text, and narrative as part of the complex, messy process of the innovation of ritual. Through description of the contrasting feelings of connectedness and individuality, Ochs gives the how and why of the aspects of rituals and their resulting social gifts that Driver champions.
With Ochs’s examples of ritual innovation from the past few decades, we can better appreciate the ritual agency that has been necessary in Judaism for its thousands of years of existence, as demonstrated by the writings of Marcus and Goldberg. If so much change has occurred in such a short time span, then modern Jews can speculate on how much change must have occurred even within the hundreds of years between the Biblical period and the Rabbinic period. By comparing present change to the past, we can identify what elements of Judaism stay essential to ritual and what elements are more flexible. Thus, we can tweak Jewish ritual so that it can give us that feeling that finally leads to the production of Driver’s social gifts of order, community, and transformation.
Tuesday, April 13, 2010
Brettschneider v. Ochs: Political v. Spiritual Change
Brettschneider: “Ritual Encounters of a Queer Kind”
Ochs: Pg. 1-55
Both Brettschneider and Ochs take Driver’s call for ritualization to their own personal levels. Both authors speak of the transformation of self and the community that Driver champions. Both grapple with the extent to which order can and should be manipulated in ritual. Brettschneider calls for “coming out” rituals for lesbians, and Ochs calls for rituals for whoever feels the need for new ritual.
The striking difference between the authors’ perspectives is Brettschneider’s call for ritual to provoke outward change and Ochs’s call for ritual to provide inward change. Brettschneider focuses on the individual’s never-ending process of “becoming out,” of confessing to the world his or her personal identity and taking the according action. Thus, Brettschneider touches on Driver’s confessional modes and feeds into the ethical while calling for the according performative rituals. Ochs, on the other hand, focuses on the inward change that eventually causes outward change. She writes that rituals “confirm a sacred presence in the world, and move us to live in ways that are more moral and more righteous” (Ochs 31). While Brettschneider focuses more on the liminality of queers as a parallel to the liminality of Judaism and of ritual, Ochs focuses on the liminality aspects of ritual such as texts, ritual actions, and ritual objects. Brettschneider’s ritual changes the world directly, while Ochs’s ritual brings change into perspective or inspires spiritual change.
Ochs: Pg. 1-55
Both Brettschneider and Ochs take Driver’s call for ritualization to their own personal levels. Both authors speak of the transformation of self and the community that Driver champions. Both grapple with the extent to which order can and should be manipulated in ritual. Brettschneider calls for “coming out” rituals for lesbians, and Ochs calls for rituals for whoever feels the need for new ritual.
The striking difference between the authors’ perspectives is Brettschneider’s call for ritual to provoke outward change and Ochs’s call for ritual to provide inward change. Brettschneider focuses on the individual’s never-ending process of “becoming out,” of confessing to the world his or her personal identity and taking the according action. Thus, Brettschneider touches on Driver’s confessional modes and feeds into the ethical while calling for the according performative rituals. Ochs, on the other hand, focuses on the inward change that eventually causes outward change. She writes that rituals “confirm a sacred presence in the world, and move us to live in ways that are more moral and more righteous” (Ochs 31). While Brettschneider focuses more on the liminality of queers as a parallel to the liminality of Judaism and of ritual, Ochs focuses on the liminality aspects of ritual such as texts, ritual actions, and ritual objects. Brettschneider’s ritual changes the world directly, while Ochs’s ritual brings change into perspective or inspires spiritual change.
Thursday, April 1, 2010
The Swarthmore Passover Co-op - A Pilgrimage
Goldberg - "Pilgrimage and Creating Identities"
Harvey Goldberg states, “Pilgrimage sites thus reflect historical events and shared cultural sensibilities while also providing the context for the coalescence of a personal path in relation to life’s flow” (162). This Passover, I would like to think that I embarked on a pilgrimage very similar to the situations that Goldberg describes. By participating in the Swarthmore Passover Co-op, I spent eight days in the liminal sphere of life outside of Sharples, eating all of my meals with only Jews. Throughout the eight days, a group of about fifteen people, who at first seemed to share little except for religion and culture, formed a close-knit community through our realization of communitas. Sheltered from the religious diversity of Sharples, our conversations somehow always returned to our Jewish culture and history. By the middle of the week, we were all so addicted to our interior pilgrimage from the Swarthmore bubble that our lunch and dinner conversations began to last for hours and then expand into further meetings about the future improvements of Hillel and about our reactions to the Three Days in Palestine event. In the liminality of the Passover Co-op, we felt a sort of freedom to express and change our personal relationships to Judaism that Sharples would not have been able to induce.
There were a few moments this week that related more directly to this class’s readings and discussions. For instance, one dinner, someone asked about the Zohar, and we spent the rest of the meal in the Beit Midrash, reading the translation – in the freedom of our liminality, of course - and joking about how all of the boys would be swallowed into the earth. Also, with Three Days in Palestine, we entered into several discussions about our personal relationships to Israel and whether it enhanced Jewish identities or not, as Goldberg grapples with. Finally, during the last few moments of Passover, while we waited for pizza over a lecture about Mimouna, the lecturer explicitly mentioned Turner’s liminality, and Noah and I could not help but laugh. As the Israelite’s exodus and journey through the desert thrust them into the liminality of separateness and transformation into a more concrete nation, my past week of isolated Judaism forced me to look closer at my identity and shape my beliefs in a transformative setting of pilgrimage.
Harvey Goldberg states, “Pilgrimage sites thus reflect historical events and shared cultural sensibilities while also providing the context for the coalescence of a personal path in relation to life’s flow” (162). This Passover, I would like to think that I embarked on a pilgrimage very similar to the situations that Goldberg describes. By participating in the Swarthmore Passover Co-op, I spent eight days in the liminal sphere of life outside of Sharples, eating all of my meals with only Jews. Throughout the eight days, a group of about fifteen people, who at first seemed to share little except for religion and culture, formed a close-knit community through our realization of communitas. Sheltered from the religious diversity of Sharples, our conversations somehow always returned to our Jewish culture and history. By the middle of the week, we were all so addicted to our interior pilgrimage from the Swarthmore bubble that our lunch and dinner conversations began to last for hours and then expand into further meetings about the future improvements of Hillel and about our reactions to the Three Days in Palestine event. In the liminality of the Passover Co-op, we felt a sort of freedom to express and change our personal relationships to Judaism that Sharples would not have been able to induce.
There were a few moments this week that related more directly to this class’s readings and discussions. For instance, one dinner, someone asked about the Zohar, and we spent the rest of the meal in the Beit Midrash, reading the translation – in the freedom of our liminality, of course - and joking about how all of the boys would be swallowed into the earth. Also, with Three Days in Palestine, we entered into several discussions about our personal relationships to Israel and whether it enhanced Jewish identities or not, as Goldberg grapples with. Finally, during the last few moments of Passover, while we waited for pizza over a lecture about Mimouna, the lecturer explicitly mentioned Turner’s liminality, and Noah and I could not help but laugh. As the Israelite’s exodus and journey through the desert thrust them into the liminality of separateness and transformation into a more concrete nation, my past week of isolated Judaism forced me to look closer at my identity and shape my beliefs in a transformative setting of pilgrimage.
The Evolving Diversity of Jewish Individual and Community
Goldberg, "Bonds of Community and Individual Lives"
Over time, as diversity within Judaism began to result from sources other than geographic separation, Judaism transformed from its existence as a unifying title to its modern-day connotation of infinite variety. Ancient Judaism was centered on the “tribe,” a single Temple, and its according authorities. In the Middle Ages, as Jews began to settle around the world, individual communities invented their own religious and cultural authority, governed by rabbinic law. The individual only had personal religious choice within the communal norms necessary in societies so divided between Jew and Gentile. During the Renaissance, inward acculturation and increased interaction between Jews and Gentiles brought an increased concept of the individual to Jewish societies. Mystical writings, an increased social presence of women, and autobiographical writings began to contribute to diversity in Judaism.
Jewish emancipation during the Enlightenment gave Jews the opportunity to not only make religious choices within Judaism but between Judaism and other religions. Nationality entered Jewish identity, and with it, new interpretations of Judaism arose within Jewish communities that were not physically separated from the rest of society. Different groups of Jews developed laws and authority according to their feelings toward their religion and culture. The establishment of the state of Israel and to modern technology led to even more diversity in Jewish belief and practice. With the freedom of individual choice always comes the confusion about how far to let that freedom go. As always, such freedoms lead to battles within individuals and communities and contribute to the strong dialectic of ritual transformation.
Over time, as diversity within Judaism began to result from sources other than geographic separation, Judaism transformed from its existence as a unifying title to its modern-day connotation of infinite variety. Ancient Judaism was centered on the “tribe,” a single Temple, and its according authorities. In the Middle Ages, as Jews began to settle around the world, individual communities invented their own religious and cultural authority, governed by rabbinic law. The individual only had personal religious choice within the communal norms necessary in societies so divided between Jew and Gentile. During the Renaissance, inward acculturation and increased interaction between Jews and Gentiles brought an increased concept of the individual to Jewish societies. Mystical writings, an increased social presence of women, and autobiographical writings began to contribute to diversity in Judaism.
Jewish emancipation during the Enlightenment gave Jews the opportunity to not only make religious choices within Judaism but between Judaism and other religions. Nationality entered Jewish identity, and with it, new interpretations of Judaism arose within Jewish communities that were not physically separated from the rest of society. Different groups of Jews developed laws and authority according to their feelings toward their religion and culture. The establishment of the state of Israel and to modern technology led to even more diversity in Jewish belief and practice. With the freedom of individual choice always comes the confusion about how far to let that freedom go. As always, such freedoms lead to battles within individuals and communities and contribute to the strong dialectic of ritual transformation.
Thursday, March 25, 2010
Torah as a Stepping Stool for Ritual Education
Goldberg, "Rituals of Education"
Lifecycles, "Invisible Passages"
The term “the Torah” can refer to a certain set of rules laid out in the Bible, to all of the prophets’ messages from God, to God’s entire collection of commandments God gives in the Torah, the physical scroll that encompasses the Five Books of Moses, the contents of that scroll in the form of a book, or an infinite number of other references. It represents the transformation of a building into a place for religious ritual, the metaphorical ideal bride of the people of Israel during Shavuot, and a physical channel between Jews and God. As text, symbol, and ritual object, the Torah exists as the core of Jewish education and acts as a guide around which Jewish educational practices are created.
Goldberg’s explanation for the evolution of the study of Torah provides several examples of Marcus’s “inward acculturation.” As Communion developed to atone for Christians’ sins, Judaism began to focus on education of Torah as their focus of atonement. With industrialization came a new emphasis in personal choice and a new impetus for personal religious identity. Thus, a formal bar mitzvah ceremony developed to affirm personal religious maturity. As modern public education evolved to encompass boys and girls and to fit into modern suburb culture, religious education had to welcome girls as well and change its timing to fit fathers’ new 9-to-5 work schedules. As Christian congregations developed Confirmation to welcome intellectual adults, Judaism followed suit. Of course, such adapted ritual mixed with previous ritual, current ritual, and other cultural pressures to become even newer educational ritual. Over time, the development of new Jewish educational ritual has constantly used inward acculturation as an answer to Barbara Orenstein’s call for “me too!"
The now infinite possibilities for Torah study give rise to individuals’ decisions about what they can consider personally effective ritual. With their knowledge of Jewish law, individuals can gain the ability to turn learning into liturgy and create ritual for whatever they see fit. Individuals can now decide whether or not their personal traumatic and joyous experiences need ritual accompaniment, whether that accompaniment should be public or private, and what the form of that ritual should be. When we create new ritual for experiences that previously lacked established ritual, we have the opportunity to shape performance and confession into both personal, ritual effectiveness and public, ethical effect.
Lifecycles, "Invisible Passages"
The term “the Torah” can refer to a certain set of rules laid out in the Bible, to all of the prophets’ messages from God, to God’s entire collection of commandments God gives in the Torah, the physical scroll that encompasses the Five Books of Moses, the contents of that scroll in the form of a book, or an infinite number of other references. It represents the transformation of a building into a place for religious ritual, the metaphorical ideal bride of the people of Israel during Shavuot, and a physical channel between Jews and God. As text, symbol, and ritual object, the Torah exists as the core of Jewish education and acts as a guide around which Jewish educational practices are created.
Goldberg’s explanation for the evolution of the study of Torah provides several examples of Marcus’s “inward acculturation.” As Communion developed to atone for Christians’ sins, Judaism began to focus on education of Torah as their focus of atonement. With industrialization came a new emphasis in personal choice and a new impetus for personal religious identity. Thus, a formal bar mitzvah ceremony developed to affirm personal religious maturity. As modern public education evolved to encompass boys and girls and to fit into modern suburb culture, religious education had to welcome girls as well and change its timing to fit fathers’ new 9-to-5 work schedules. As Christian congregations developed Confirmation to welcome intellectual adults, Judaism followed suit. Of course, such adapted ritual mixed with previous ritual, current ritual, and other cultural pressures to become even newer educational ritual. Over time, the development of new Jewish educational ritual has constantly used inward acculturation as an answer to Barbara Orenstein’s call for “me too!"
The now infinite possibilities for Torah study give rise to individuals’ decisions about what they can consider personally effective ritual. With their knowledge of Jewish law, individuals can gain the ability to turn learning into liturgy and create ritual for whatever they see fit. Individuals can now decide whether or not their personal traumatic and joyous experiences need ritual accompaniment, whether that accompaniment should be public or private, and what the form of that ritual should be. When we create new ritual for experiences that previously lacked established ritual, we have the opportunity to shape performance and confession into both personal, ritual effectiveness and public, ethical effect.
Tuesday, March 23, 2010
The Liminality of Bat/Bar Mitzvah and Adolescence
Marcus, "Bar Mitzvah, Bat Mitzvah, Confirmation"
Lifecycles, "Adolescence"
Bar mitzvah began as the point in time when a male was ready to take on the commandments prescribed by the Torah, usually defined as 13 years old and a day. After the rabbinic period, bar mitzvah was reinterpreted to be the time at which males could start performing mitzvoth. Centuries later, bar mitzvah changed from a simple temporal marker to an event in which the bar mitzvah was called to the Torah and recited a sermon. The rite of bar mitzvah developed for a short period of time in the 11th and 12th centuries, developed again in the 16th century, and became universal in the 19th and 20th centuries. It soon expanded to include parties and evolved to encompass bat mitzvahs. Utilizing van Gennep’s three stages of rites of passage, bar mitzvah transforms a child into the liminality of ritual, and finally, into the state of Jewish adulthood.
Bar and bat mitzvah occur in the middle of an awkward few years of the modernly invented life stage of adolescence. Adolescence battle with desires for change and consistency, and thus, it is difficult to ascertain when during adolescence ritual is important. Further questions about adolescent ritual arise, such as the need for the gendering of or ungendering of ritual and the level of such ritual’s publicity. In the identity searching characteristic of adolescence, how is it possible to incorporate ritual and its according gift of community without offending the individual in the liminality between childhood and adulthood?
Lifecycles, "Adolescence"
Bar mitzvah began as the point in time when a male was ready to take on the commandments prescribed by the Torah, usually defined as 13 years old and a day. After the rabbinic period, bar mitzvah was reinterpreted to be the time at which males could start performing mitzvoth. Centuries later, bar mitzvah changed from a simple temporal marker to an event in which the bar mitzvah was called to the Torah and recited a sermon. The rite of bar mitzvah developed for a short period of time in the 11th and 12th centuries, developed again in the 16th century, and became universal in the 19th and 20th centuries. It soon expanded to include parties and evolved to encompass bat mitzvahs. Utilizing van Gennep’s three stages of rites of passage, bar mitzvah transforms a child into the liminality of ritual, and finally, into the state of Jewish adulthood.
Bar and bat mitzvah occur in the middle of an awkward few years of the modernly invented life stage of adolescence. Adolescence battle with desires for change and consistency, and thus, it is difficult to ascertain when during adolescence ritual is important. Further questions about adolescent ritual arise, such as the need for the gendering of or ungendering of ritual and the level of such ritual’s publicity. In the identity searching characteristic of adolescence, how is it possible to incorporate ritual and its according gift of community without offending the individual in the liminality between childhood and adulthood?
Thursday, March 18, 2010
Orenstein's Lifecycles - Inspiring Too Many Questions
Feminism in Judaism adds to further opportunities for the transformation of a constantly transforming religion. Feminism strives to include women where they were previously excluded, to encompass feminist ideals in lifecycle rites, to pay attention to women’s biological cycles in the creation of new ritual, and to sacralize personal journeys that may not have been considered essential to Jewish ritual before. Jewish feminism strives to give women both access and influence in Jewish ritual, to give them both the ability to participate in ritual and to have their voices heard in the development of ritual. In Lifecycles, Barbara Orenstein advocates for the incorporation of feminism into the creation of Jewish ritual.
Orenstein explains that ritual fills “The need for the individual to be acknowledged by community, the need for the community/ tribe to read itself into the passages of each member, the need for bonding, which serves both individual and community, the need to (re-)enact dramatically the great stories and messages of the tradition, for the sake of the individuals and of the tradition” (Orenstein xx). She continues to explain the comfort behind “predictability.” In her explanation of what ritual provides, Orenstein touches on Driver’s ritual gifts of community, order, and transformation. According to both Driver and Orenstein, the value of ritual lies in a personal identity as a human being related to other human beings, in the continuity of order, and in both personal and ritual change. Orenstein, however, bases her emphasis on a feeling of inclusion. Through feminism, Orenstein suggests ritual that makes Jews find their place among other Jews and feel as if they truly belong. To contrast with Marcus’s “inward acculturation” as a source of past Jewish ritual creation, Orenstein focuses on what I coined as “internal acculturation” before as a source of present and future Jewish ritual creation. By mixing and matching past and previous Jewish traditions, texts, blessings, and objects, Jews can create ritual that better fits personal need.
The essays that Orenstein provides about childbirthing rituals and substitutes for bris provide interesting solutions to ritual boredom and ritualism in Judaism. At the same time, however, they prompt open-ended questions about certain uncomfortable aspects of Judaism. If God cursed Eve by giving her the burden of childbirth, why does the Torah consider fruitfulness such a blessing? If childbirth is such a blessing, then, why do we have no ritual to support that? In Treasure Cohen’s essay on “tree-dition,” she explains that her and her husband were too exhausted with practical matters after the birth of her children to want to deal with ritual. My personal question would be, is a ritual for childbirth really necessary? While “welcoming children into name and covenant” symbolizes the transformation of an individual through metaphor, isn’t the wonder of childbirth pretty straightforward? New life might be enough of an obvious miracle in itself that it transcends the necessity of words and symbolism.
With sufficient tweaking according to personal need, “welcoming children into name and covenant” can become powerful, and often powerfully controversial, ritual. Laura Geller voices the importance of traditional circumcision ceremonies as the affirmation of God’s parental impact on the baby, the father’s metaphorical birthing of the child, and the child’s sexual identity. Through these affirmations, the baby transforms into a human being with a Jewish past, present, and future. Reminiscent of van Gennep’s three stages of rites, the baby goes from baby to the liminality of ritual to Jewish individual. Keeping such key elements of bris-like ritual in mind, the contributing authors and readers grapple with how to make the ritual equally meaningful for boys and girls. Through the use of trees, the timing of the lunar cycle, and the use of symbolically feminine objects, the authors create astounding innovations but still cannot reconcile with the idea of circumcision. I ask, then, is it enough to circumcise a boy in this day and age just to prevent future embarrassment? And furthermore, what are the advantages and disadvantages of gendering or ungendering such a symbolic ritual? Should the meaning behind bris alter, change completely according to changing ritual, or stay the same with adapted ritual? The overriding question of this course becomes more ambiguous and intriguing with every further reading: How far can we stretch ritual and still consider it authentically and effectively Jewish?
Orenstein explains that ritual fills “The need for the individual to be acknowledged by community, the need for the community/ tribe to read itself into the passages of each member, the need for bonding, which serves both individual and community, the need to (re-)enact dramatically the great stories and messages of the tradition, for the sake of the individuals and of the tradition” (Orenstein xx). She continues to explain the comfort behind “predictability.” In her explanation of what ritual provides, Orenstein touches on Driver’s ritual gifts of community, order, and transformation. According to both Driver and Orenstein, the value of ritual lies in a personal identity as a human being related to other human beings, in the continuity of order, and in both personal and ritual change. Orenstein, however, bases her emphasis on a feeling of inclusion. Through feminism, Orenstein suggests ritual that makes Jews find their place among other Jews and feel as if they truly belong. To contrast with Marcus’s “inward acculturation” as a source of past Jewish ritual creation, Orenstein focuses on what I coined as “internal acculturation” before as a source of present and future Jewish ritual creation. By mixing and matching past and previous Jewish traditions, texts, blessings, and objects, Jews can create ritual that better fits personal need.
The essays that Orenstein provides about childbirthing rituals and substitutes for bris provide interesting solutions to ritual boredom and ritualism in Judaism. At the same time, however, they prompt open-ended questions about certain uncomfortable aspects of Judaism. If God cursed Eve by giving her the burden of childbirth, why does the Torah consider fruitfulness such a blessing? If childbirth is such a blessing, then, why do we have no ritual to support that? In Treasure Cohen’s essay on “tree-dition,” she explains that her and her husband were too exhausted with practical matters after the birth of her children to want to deal with ritual. My personal question would be, is a ritual for childbirth really necessary? While “welcoming children into name and covenant” symbolizes the transformation of an individual through metaphor, isn’t the wonder of childbirth pretty straightforward? New life might be enough of an obvious miracle in itself that it transcends the necessity of words and symbolism.
With sufficient tweaking according to personal need, “welcoming children into name and covenant” can become powerful, and often powerfully controversial, ritual. Laura Geller voices the importance of traditional circumcision ceremonies as the affirmation of God’s parental impact on the baby, the father’s metaphorical birthing of the child, and the child’s sexual identity. Through these affirmations, the baby transforms into a human being with a Jewish past, present, and future. Reminiscent of van Gennep’s three stages of rites, the baby goes from baby to the liminality of ritual to Jewish individual. Keeping such key elements of bris-like ritual in mind, the contributing authors and readers grapple with how to make the ritual equally meaningful for boys and girls. Through the use of trees, the timing of the lunar cycle, and the use of symbolically feminine objects, the authors create astounding innovations but still cannot reconcile with the idea of circumcision. I ask, then, is it enough to circumcise a boy in this day and age just to prevent future embarrassment? And furthermore, what are the advantages and disadvantages of gendering or ungendering such a symbolic ritual? Should the meaning behind bris alter, change completely according to changing ritual, or stay the same with adapted ritual? The overriding question of this course becomes more ambiguous and intriguing with every further reading: How far can we stretch ritual and still consider it authentically and effectively Jewish?
Tuesday, March 16, 2010
Inward Acculturation: Using the Vernacular Blog for the Benefit of Judaism
Marcus, "Introduction," "Birth, Bris, Schooling"
According to Ivan G. Marcus, “Jewish rites not only emerge and develop over time, but they are diverse at any one point in time” (Marcus 9). With such a statement, Marcus sets out to map examples of change in Jewish practices throughout the thousands of years of Jewish history. Marcus focuses largely on how change in Jewish ritual derives from other cultures. Through “inward acculturation” (Marcus 4), he claims, Jews have negotiated their rituals with that of majority cultures’, incorporating foreign rituals into Judiasm where they benefit Judaism and rejecting foreign rituals where they would be detrimental to Judaism. New ritual becomes increasingly acculturated as it is passed down from generation to generation. One form of inward acculturation can be seen as the adaptation of vernacular practices from outside cultures for practical reasons. This, in turn, can influence the logistics of religious ritual practices. Another form of inward acculturation is the repetition and reinterpretation of ritual from outside customs. Jews have also shaped outside ritual that they disagree with into ritual following Jewish beliefs as a sort of rebellion against the adapted ritual. While inward acculturation transforms Judaism into heightened forms of itself, “outward acculturation” (Marcus 5) exists as the adaptation of outside culture at the expense of Jewish growth. When Jewish society undergoes “outward acculturation,” it separates its religious identity from its other identities, such as national, gender, and political, and gets rid of the aspects of Judaism that do not fit with new ideals. In Marcus’s analysis of acculturation, he considers how Jews can be seen and have seen themselves as a separate community from the majority culture, founded on a rich history and on a belief in the exclusivity of their nation in God’s sight.
Marcus’s explanation of the change of Jewish rites of passage throughout time largely parallels with Driver’s views on ritual transformation. Marcus’s inward and outward acculturation can be compared to Driver’s strong and weak dialectic, respectively. In inward acculturation, the association of unfamiliar practices can be seen as an entrance into liminality. When that unfamiliar becomes familiar in future generations, a Jewish rite has been transformed. Outward acculturation remains weak, as it fails to incorporate the liminality of outside ritual into Jewish practice. Judaism thus remains static and personally meaningless. While Driver discusses ritualization not only as the transformation of ritual but as the transformation of the performers of ritual, Marcus mentions Arnold van Gennep’s division of rites of passage into separation, transition, and incorporation. According to van Gennep, Jewish rites of passage begin with the separation of an individual from meaningful society. In order to achieve that access to meaning, the individual must enter a transition, or perhaps a liminal, space in which ritual is performed. The performer then leaves that space with the liminal incorporated into his or her life. The performer has thus been transformed. With every necessary Jewish passage, from weddings, to circumcision, to a first haircut, Jews have the chance to provoke a strong dialectic within their own lives.
By performing and altering ritual, Jews are constantly accomplishing “performative Midrash” (Marcus 10). Through ritual, they have the chance to constantly interpret the Torah in a way that provides meaning and transformation in their lives. Furthermore, they can adapt ritual in order to confess to the world their stance on religion. By explaining ritual in such a way, Marcus outlines Driver’s ritual, performance, and confessional modes. Perhaps Marcus's views can even be expanded into the ethical mode with a hope that inward acculturation can lead to better intercultural understanding and enhanced religious identity among individuals, providing them with the spiritual impetus to change the world according to their beliefs.
In “Birth, Bris, and Schooling,” Marcus mentions rituals that began hundreds or thousands of years ago and were only put into place again during this century. As Marcus lays out guidelines for inward acculturation, I wonder what his guidelines would be for a sort of internal acculturation, how Jews learn from their ancestors and their current peers in order to shape new ritual.
According to Ivan G. Marcus, “Jewish rites not only emerge and develop over time, but they are diverse at any one point in time” (Marcus 9). With such a statement, Marcus sets out to map examples of change in Jewish practices throughout the thousands of years of Jewish history. Marcus focuses largely on how change in Jewish ritual derives from other cultures. Through “inward acculturation” (Marcus 4), he claims, Jews have negotiated their rituals with that of majority cultures’, incorporating foreign rituals into Judiasm where they benefit Judaism and rejecting foreign rituals where they would be detrimental to Judaism. New ritual becomes increasingly acculturated as it is passed down from generation to generation. One form of inward acculturation can be seen as the adaptation of vernacular practices from outside cultures for practical reasons. This, in turn, can influence the logistics of religious ritual practices. Another form of inward acculturation is the repetition and reinterpretation of ritual from outside customs. Jews have also shaped outside ritual that they disagree with into ritual following Jewish beliefs as a sort of rebellion against the adapted ritual. While inward acculturation transforms Judaism into heightened forms of itself, “outward acculturation” (Marcus 5) exists as the adaptation of outside culture at the expense of Jewish growth. When Jewish society undergoes “outward acculturation,” it separates its religious identity from its other identities, such as national, gender, and political, and gets rid of the aspects of Judaism that do not fit with new ideals. In Marcus’s analysis of acculturation, he considers how Jews can be seen and have seen themselves as a separate community from the majority culture, founded on a rich history and on a belief in the exclusivity of their nation in God’s sight.
Marcus’s explanation of the change of Jewish rites of passage throughout time largely parallels with Driver’s views on ritual transformation. Marcus’s inward and outward acculturation can be compared to Driver’s strong and weak dialectic, respectively. In inward acculturation, the association of unfamiliar practices can be seen as an entrance into liminality. When that unfamiliar becomes familiar in future generations, a Jewish rite has been transformed. Outward acculturation remains weak, as it fails to incorporate the liminality of outside ritual into Jewish practice. Judaism thus remains static and personally meaningless. While Driver discusses ritualization not only as the transformation of ritual but as the transformation of the performers of ritual, Marcus mentions Arnold van Gennep’s division of rites of passage into separation, transition, and incorporation. According to van Gennep, Jewish rites of passage begin with the separation of an individual from meaningful society. In order to achieve that access to meaning, the individual must enter a transition, or perhaps a liminal, space in which ritual is performed. The performer then leaves that space with the liminal incorporated into his or her life. The performer has thus been transformed. With every necessary Jewish passage, from weddings, to circumcision, to a first haircut, Jews have the chance to provoke a strong dialectic within their own lives.
By performing and altering ritual, Jews are constantly accomplishing “performative Midrash” (Marcus 10). Through ritual, they have the chance to constantly interpret the Torah in a way that provides meaning and transformation in their lives. Furthermore, they can adapt ritual in order to confess to the world their stance on religion. By explaining ritual in such a way, Marcus outlines Driver’s ritual, performance, and confessional modes. Perhaps Marcus's views can even be expanded into the ethical mode with a hope that inward acculturation can lead to better intercultural understanding and enhanced religious identity among individuals, providing them with the spiritual impetus to change the world according to their beliefs.
In “Birth, Bris, and Schooling,” Marcus mentions rituals that began hundreds or thousands of years ago and were only put into place again during this century. As Marcus lays out guidelines for inward acculturation, I wonder what his guidelines would be for a sort of internal acculturation, how Jews learn from their ancestors and their current peers in order to shape new ritual.
Sunday, March 14, 2010
Winter to Spring, Hanukkah to Purim
Note: This is a combination of Waskow's chapters from 2/11 and 2/16.
Waskow:
“Dark of the Sun, Dark of the Moon – Hanukkah”
“The Tree That Sustains All Life – Tu B’Shvat”
“Spring Fever – Purim”
Hanukkah, a holiday based solely on history, stems from the Maccabees’ triumphant recapture of Jerusalem from the Greeks from 169 to 166 B.C.E. Judaism celebrates Hanukkah for eight days to symbolize both the Maccabees’ missed Sukkot and Sh’mini Atzeret and the small amount oil that miraculously burned for eight days during the rededication of the Temple. Hanukkah is celebrated with increasing amounts of candlelight each night, perhaps to symbolize the hope of future sunlight during the current darkness of the winter solstice. Soon afterwards, Tu B’Shvat celebrates the existence of trees with flexible forms of practice, including sedars and acts of environmental justice. After Tu B’Shvat, at the onset of spring, an anti-structure in the structure of the Jewish calendar appears as Purim. A holiday based on a somewhat ridiculous tale about the punishment of anti-semitism, Jews take this day to celebrate without restraint.
Although Hanukkah, Tu B’Shvat, and Purim celebrate three widely contrasting aspects of the same religion, their celebrations can all translate into successful ritual by Driver’s suggestions. All three can become shamanic in nature, with celebratory games and cooking on Hanukkah, communal rallying for the environment and planting of trees on Tu B’Shvat, and shared merriment on Purim. All three can incorporate the confessional, ethical, performance, and ritual modes of performance. Tu B’Shvat enters the ethical mode of performance with its call for the renewal of trees, and the ritual of Purim demands incorporation of tzedakah into celebration. Simply including community members in Hanukkah celebrations can count towards the ethical distribution of light throughout the world. Through their successful practice, all three holidays should become enjoyable experiences. Of course, the success of their practice in the ritual mode can relate back to the completion of the confessional mode, the display and acceptance of the beliefs all three holidays strive towards. The ordered practice of all three holidays creates a community of Jews that hope to contribute to the wider communitas of mankind.
Hopefully, every Jewish practice can tie back to Driver’s explanation of successful ritual. As I mentioned in a previous post, every one of mankind’s practices may tie back to Driver’s explanation of successful ritual. Perhaps, rather than searching for reform of specifically religious ritual, we should strive for the reform of every-day ritual and apply Driver’s theories to the liminality of every-day life.
Waskow:
“Dark of the Sun, Dark of the Moon – Hanukkah”
“The Tree That Sustains All Life – Tu B’Shvat”
“Spring Fever – Purim”
Hanukkah, a holiday based solely on history, stems from the Maccabees’ triumphant recapture of Jerusalem from the Greeks from 169 to 166 B.C.E. Judaism celebrates Hanukkah for eight days to symbolize both the Maccabees’ missed Sukkot and Sh’mini Atzeret and the small amount oil that miraculously burned for eight days during the rededication of the Temple. Hanukkah is celebrated with increasing amounts of candlelight each night, perhaps to symbolize the hope of future sunlight during the current darkness of the winter solstice. Soon afterwards, Tu B’Shvat celebrates the existence of trees with flexible forms of practice, including sedars and acts of environmental justice. After Tu B’Shvat, at the onset of spring, an anti-structure in the structure of the Jewish calendar appears as Purim. A holiday based on a somewhat ridiculous tale about the punishment of anti-semitism, Jews take this day to celebrate without restraint.
Although Hanukkah, Tu B’Shvat, and Purim celebrate three widely contrasting aspects of the same religion, their celebrations can all translate into successful ritual by Driver’s suggestions. All three can become shamanic in nature, with celebratory games and cooking on Hanukkah, communal rallying for the environment and planting of trees on Tu B’Shvat, and shared merriment on Purim. All three can incorporate the confessional, ethical, performance, and ritual modes of performance. Tu B’Shvat enters the ethical mode of performance with its call for the renewal of trees, and the ritual of Purim demands incorporation of tzedakah into celebration. Simply including community members in Hanukkah celebrations can count towards the ethical distribution of light throughout the world. Through their successful practice, all three holidays should become enjoyable experiences. Of course, the success of their practice in the ritual mode can relate back to the completion of the confessional mode, the display and acceptance of the beliefs all three holidays strive towards. The ordered practice of all three holidays creates a community of Jews that hope to contribute to the wider communitas of mankind.
Hopefully, every Jewish practice can tie back to Driver’s explanation of successful ritual. As I mentioned in a previous post, every one of mankind’s practices may tie back to Driver’s explanation of successful ritual. Perhaps, rather than searching for reform of specifically religious ritual, we should strive for the reform of every-day ritual and apply Driver’s theories to the liminality of every-day life.
Tuesday, March 2, 2010
Renewal in Tisha B'Av
Today's Readings:
Waskow:
"Burnt Offering -- Tisha B'Av"
"Afterword and Foreword"
Driver, "Appendix B"
Tisha B’Av acts as both an ending and a beginning in the cycle of the Jewish year. It consists of mourning for the destruction of both temples and for the day that, out of needless fear, the Israelites refused to enter the Promised Land. In time, Tisha B’Av has transformed into a day of mourning for all of the Jew’s internal sins that led to external woes. For three weeks before Tisha B’Av, Jews avoid weddings, haircuts, buying new clothes, and general celebration. Just before the fast starting on the eve of Tisha B’Av, Jews eat a traditional meal of mourning. All throughout the evening and morning services of the holiday, Jews perform intense prayers of mourning without the joys of wearing tallis and tefillin. Later in the day, congregants rejoin in afternoon service to pray for the Messiah with a more hopeful tone. After breaking the fast in the evening, they perform the service of kiddush levana, hoping for the day when the Messiah will come, and the moon will gain equal status with the sun. Between Tisha B’Av and Rosh Hashanah, seven weeks of comforting Shabbat celebrations exist, and in this time, the lingering hope for the coming of the Messiah remains. Each year, this lingering hope can inspire a renewed drive for betterment among Jews, and thus, another year of existence in the Book of Life. With its lamentation of tragedy, Tisha B’Av celebrates the Jews’ ability to hope, and thus, to consistently renew their existence.
With its emphases on hope and renewal, Tisha B’Av truly reflects Driver’s criticisms Victor Turner’s views of ritual. Turner defines ritual as “prescribed formal behavior for occasions not given over to technological routine, having reference †o beliefs in invisible beings or powers regarded as the first and final causes of all effects” (Driver 236). As Driver argues for, Tisha B’Av prays for hope and change, and thus, constant transformation of Tisha B’Av is necessary. On Tisha B’Av, Jews use ritual to discover their sins, and thus, to create new ritual. There is no “first and final cause” for Tisha B’Av. In order to inspire change for the better, Tisha B’Av must follow a strong dialectic and must constantly move in and out of the liminal, constantly changing itself. Perhaps, if we constantly renew Tisha B’Av, and thus, our own selves, we can improve the world enough to bring us closer to a Messianic Age.
Waskow:
"Burnt Offering -- Tisha B'Av"
"Afterword and Foreword"
Driver, "Appendix B"
Tisha B’Av acts as both an ending and a beginning in the cycle of the Jewish year. It consists of mourning for the destruction of both temples and for the day that, out of needless fear, the Israelites refused to enter the Promised Land. In time, Tisha B’Av has transformed into a day of mourning for all of the Jew’s internal sins that led to external woes. For three weeks before Tisha B’Av, Jews avoid weddings, haircuts, buying new clothes, and general celebration. Just before the fast starting on the eve of Tisha B’Av, Jews eat a traditional meal of mourning. All throughout the evening and morning services of the holiday, Jews perform intense prayers of mourning without the joys of wearing tallis and tefillin. Later in the day, congregants rejoin in afternoon service to pray for the Messiah with a more hopeful tone. After breaking the fast in the evening, they perform the service of kiddush levana, hoping for the day when the Messiah will come, and the moon will gain equal status with the sun. Between Tisha B’Av and Rosh Hashanah, seven weeks of comforting Shabbat celebrations exist, and in this time, the lingering hope for the coming of the Messiah remains. Each year, this lingering hope can inspire a renewed drive for betterment among Jews, and thus, another year of existence in the Book of Life. With its lamentation of tragedy, Tisha B’Av celebrates the Jews’ ability to hope, and thus, to consistently renew their existence.
With its emphases on hope and renewal, Tisha B’Av truly reflects Driver’s criticisms Victor Turner’s views of ritual. Turner defines ritual as “prescribed formal behavior for occasions not given over to technological routine, having reference †o beliefs in invisible beings or powers regarded as the first and final causes of all effects” (Driver 236). As Driver argues for, Tisha B’Av prays for hope and change, and thus, constant transformation of Tisha B’Av is necessary. On Tisha B’Av, Jews use ritual to discover their sins, and thus, to create new ritual. There is no “first and final cause” for Tisha B’Av. In order to inspire change for the better, Tisha B’Av must follow a strong dialectic and must constantly move in and out of the liminal, constantly changing itself. Perhaps, if we constantly renew Tisha B’Av, and thus, our own selves, we can improve the world enough to bring us closer to a Messianic Age.
Thursday, February 25, 2010
From Counting the Omer to Shavuot
Today's Readings:
Waskow:
"Trek Through Anxiety and Hope - Counting the Omer"
"Peak Experience - Shavuot"
Over the many generations of its celebration, the Counting of the Omer has undergone considerable transformation. The holiday began simply as a forty-nine day link between the two harvest celebrations of Pesach and Shavuot. As religious meaning was attributed to the two holidays, the Counting of the Omer became an integral connection between the political freedom of Pesach and the spiritual freedom of Shavuot. During these forty-nine days, an air of mild mourning presides except for on Lag B’Omer, the thirty-third day, and modern added celebrations. Each night, the omer is counted, symbolizing a wave-offering of barley made each night of this period before the destruction of the Temple. The days of the Counting of the Omer now include Yom Hashoah (Holocaust Memorial Day), Yom Hazikkaron (Remembrance Day), Yom Ha-atzma-ut (Israel Independence Day), and for many, the controversial Yom Yerushalayim (Jerusalem Day).
The task of providing a nightly offering of barley to God over a forty-eight day period of time has become the richly liminal, spiritual journey that the Counting of the Omer is today. With generations of reinterpretation, new meanings and beliefs have been attributed to the practices of the Counting of the Omer, from counting the forty-nine possible combinations of the seven S’phirot, to origins stemming from a Roman period of mourning, to simply mourning for the inability to wave the omer as an offering. By performing the orderly prayers and customs of mourning, Jews place themselves in a liminal state of being, thus creating a distinct community for themselves.
The Counting of the Omer leads into Shavuot, the festival of the spring harvest and of God’s gift of Torah to Moses. Shavuot begins on the afternoon of the last day of the omer with a cleansing ritual bath and then proceeds with a true prayer of Shechechiyanu after forty-nine days of preparatory Shechechiyanu. Afterwards, families proceed to synagogue and stay there, reading and studying Torah, for the entire night. Children are first introduced to Torah on the first morning of Shavuot, and today, many congregations have confirmation ceremonies for sixteen-year-old students of Torah on Shavuot. The Bible readings of Shavuot all emphasize personal relationships with God. Many kibbutzim in Israel celebrate Shavuot by parading the first fruits of the season. This season of first fruits has become a celebration of personal identity and education of Torah. With strong dialectic, a seemingly simple harvest thankfulness has turned into a community-building embrace of liminality, an exploration of each individual’s possible connection with God.
Waskow:
"Trek Through Anxiety and Hope - Counting the Omer"
"Peak Experience - Shavuot"
Over the many generations of its celebration, the Counting of the Omer has undergone considerable transformation. The holiday began simply as a forty-nine day link between the two harvest celebrations of Pesach and Shavuot. As religious meaning was attributed to the two holidays, the Counting of the Omer became an integral connection between the political freedom of Pesach and the spiritual freedom of Shavuot. During these forty-nine days, an air of mild mourning presides except for on Lag B’Omer, the thirty-third day, and modern added celebrations. Each night, the omer is counted, symbolizing a wave-offering of barley made each night of this period before the destruction of the Temple. The days of the Counting of the Omer now include Yom Hashoah (Holocaust Memorial Day), Yom Hazikkaron (Remembrance Day), Yom Ha-atzma-ut (Israel Independence Day), and for many, the controversial Yom Yerushalayim (Jerusalem Day).
The task of providing a nightly offering of barley to God over a forty-eight day period of time has become the richly liminal, spiritual journey that the Counting of the Omer is today. With generations of reinterpretation, new meanings and beliefs have been attributed to the practices of the Counting of the Omer, from counting the forty-nine possible combinations of the seven S’phirot, to origins stemming from a Roman period of mourning, to simply mourning for the inability to wave the omer as an offering. By performing the orderly prayers and customs of mourning, Jews place themselves in a liminal state of being, thus creating a distinct community for themselves.
The Counting of the Omer leads into Shavuot, the festival of the spring harvest and of God’s gift of Torah to Moses. Shavuot begins on the afternoon of the last day of the omer with a cleansing ritual bath and then proceeds with a true prayer of Shechechiyanu after forty-nine days of preparatory Shechechiyanu. Afterwards, families proceed to synagogue and stay there, reading and studying Torah, for the entire night. Children are first introduced to Torah on the first morning of Shavuot, and today, many congregations have confirmation ceremonies for sixteen-year-old students of Torah on Shavuot. The Bible readings of Shavuot all emphasize personal relationships with God. Many kibbutzim in Israel celebrate Shavuot by parading the first fruits of the season. This season of first fruits has become a celebration of personal identity and education of Torah. With strong dialectic, a seemingly simple harvest thankfulness has turned into a community-building embrace of liminality, an exploration of each individual’s possible connection with God.
Tuesday, February 23, 2010
Freedom in Christian Sacraments and Pesach
Today's Readings:
-Driver, "Christian Sacraments as the Performance of Freedom"
-Waskow, "Giving Birth to Freedom -- Pesach"
Victor Turner writes that ritual thrives from liminality, a departure from normal social structure. However, while Turner explores liminality as change from every day life, he does not explore Driver’s ideas of liminality as change in ritual itself. He instead champions seemingly esoteric ritual as liminal because of its stoic, structured nature. Juan L. Segundo, on the other hand, calls for the reform of ritual sacraments when they have the opportunity to become involved in issues of social justice. He writes, “The sacraments are made for the Church, not the Church for the sacraments” (Driver 204),” insisting that the concerns of the Church should lead directly into the practice of sacraments. Segundo’s view supports Driver’s emphasis on the confessional, ethical, ritual, and performance modes of ritual. If a church transforms its practice of sacraments in light of that church’s focus, then congregants can better understand what beliefs they are confessing, integrate those into social action, enjoy the experience, and ultimately, feel a legitimate effect from such a performance.
In a Jewish ritual context, Turner’s, Segundo’s, and Driver’s ideas about the meaning of liminality and change in ritual can prove helpful. As Victor Turner views the esoteric nature of Latin as a valuable liminal aspect of Christian ritual, Jews can consider Hebrew as an essential element of their religion. Chanting prayers in Latin or Hebrew brings the religious to a separate state of mind than everyday conversation entails. Such ancient languages connect these religious individuals to rich ancestral histories that they may not necessarily want to depart from. At the same time, Judaism can incorporate social justice into prayer by directing thought and action to political or personal issues without altering the language of prayer. Jews can chant the Shechechiyanu with the birth of a new nation or the Shema to garner God’s strength before participating in a rally or a building project. Although ritual should change when it is no longer felt as effective, as Driver constantly reminds his readers, perhaps Driver overlooks the notion that some aspects of ritual might not need to change. Maybe it is possible that traditions can last for millennia and still hold valuable meanings to those that practice them.
In his discussion of the planning of Christian ritual, Driver lays out “Fifteen Maxims for the Planning of Christian Rituals” and the four essential performance qualities of space, time, rhythm, and words. Driver’s “Maxims” can be attributed to the practice of Jewish ritual almost exactly; however, I disagree with a few of his points. Firstly, I am not sure about his statement that “To be sensational is to bear no witness at all.” I believe that sensational practice of ritual can bring the ideas behind that ritual into both the public and private eye more quickly. If a ritual shouts, “Here I am!”, it readily jumps into both observation and liminality and can show itself to people who would never otherwise acknowledge its existence. In addition, although Driver states that “Ritual loves not paper,” I believe that a significant portion of Judaism and religion in general would be completely lost without paper. Through written liturgy, Jews today can learn about and experience the same emotions as millennia of ancestors and can transform those feelings into modern experience. If they choose, modern Jews can even transform such liturgy into current interpretation, belief, and social change in written works that they can distribute to millions. With Driver’s space, time, rhythm, and words, congregations can form to flexibly accommodate their beliefs into worship.
Pesach is an ideal opportunity for Judaism’s use of Driver’s ideas for ritual. Pesach stems from both a celebration of the abundance of birth in spring and of the freedom of Exodus. On the first and second nights of Pesach, families prepare and participate in a sedar, an ordered service and meal based on readings, symbolic foods, and songs. During the eight days of Pesach, Jews do not eat unleavened bread in order to symbolize the absence of leavened bread on the Israelites’ journey to their promised land. As Pesach is mostly practiced in Jewish homes, individual families can tailor their celebrations to their own interpretations of the holiday’s emphasis on the “newness, creation, creativity, freedom” (Waskow 137). During the sedar, they can discuss political issues of freedom in the modern day and even perform community service projects during the week in accordance with such issues. Different families practice different levels of abstaining from leavened bread, sing different songs during the sedar, and even include different foods on their sedar plates. All family members can take part in the ritual of the sedar, from the youngest child’s asking of the Four Questions, to the adults’ cooking and leading of the service. Thus, even with its inclusion of several standardized prayers in Hebrew, a language that Driver might call esoteric and priestly, Pesach can become a largely shamanic holiday.
Furthermore, Pesach can easily parallel Driver’s order, community, and transformation in conjunction with his four performance modes. “Sedar” literally translates to “order.” The main concept of Pesach is the celebration of the Jews’ freedom, their acceptance as a society into mankind’s bond of communitas, bolstered by the strong community of welcoming family at a sedar dinner. Finally, with seemingly infinite new prayer books, Haggadot, created for Pesach each year, and with different sedar rituals for each family, Pesach transforms itself constantly, and in the process, provides the opportunity for its performers to experience personal transformation. By worshipping in a sedar, individuals have the chance to confess their beliefs to other individuals. They can then transfer beliefs about freedom into social action through such avenues as genocide prevention and the fight for women’s and LGBT rights. With the flexibility of the sedar, families can make Pesach an incredibly enjoyable experience. Thus, as the sedar celebrates freedom, the structure of the sedar allows for freedom in its practice and can become a highly effective, transformative ritual. Both the Christian performance of sacraments and the Jewish performance of Pesach sedars can call for future liberation in their celebration of the past and present.
-Driver, "Christian Sacraments as the Performance of Freedom"
-Waskow, "Giving Birth to Freedom -- Pesach"
Victor Turner writes that ritual thrives from liminality, a departure from normal social structure. However, while Turner explores liminality as change from every day life, he does not explore Driver’s ideas of liminality as change in ritual itself. He instead champions seemingly esoteric ritual as liminal because of its stoic, structured nature. Juan L. Segundo, on the other hand, calls for the reform of ritual sacraments when they have the opportunity to become involved in issues of social justice. He writes, “The sacraments are made for the Church, not the Church for the sacraments” (Driver 204),” insisting that the concerns of the Church should lead directly into the practice of sacraments. Segundo’s view supports Driver’s emphasis on the confessional, ethical, ritual, and performance modes of ritual. If a church transforms its practice of sacraments in light of that church’s focus, then congregants can better understand what beliefs they are confessing, integrate those into social action, enjoy the experience, and ultimately, feel a legitimate effect from such a performance.
In a Jewish ritual context, Turner’s, Segundo’s, and Driver’s ideas about the meaning of liminality and change in ritual can prove helpful. As Victor Turner views the esoteric nature of Latin as a valuable liminal aspect of Christian ritual, Jews can consider Hebrew as an essential element of their religion. Chanting prayers in Latin or Hebrew brings the religious to a separate state of mind than everyday conversation entails. Such ancient languages connect these religious individuals to rich ancestral histories that they may not necessarily want to depart from. At the same time, Judaism can incorporate social justice into prayer by directing thought and action to political or personal issues without altering the language of prayer. Jews can chant the Shechechiyanu with the birth of a new nation or the Shema to garner God’s strength before participating in a rally or a building project. Although ritual should change when it is no longer felt as effective, as Driver constantly reminds his readers, perhaps Driver overlooks the notion that some aspects of ritual might not need to change. Maybe it is possible that traditions can last for millennia and still hold valuable meanings to those that practice them.
In his discussion of the planning of Christian ritual, Driver lays out “Fifteen Maxims for the Planning of Christian Rituals” and the four essential performance qualities of space, time, rhythm, and words. Driver’s “Maxims” can be attributed to the practice of Jewish ritual almost exactly; however, I disagree with a few of his points. Firstly, I am not sure about his statement that “To be sensational is to bear no witness at all.” I believe that sensational practice of ritual can bring the ideas behind that ritual into both the public and private eye more quickly. If a ritual shouts, “Here I am!”, it readily jumps into both observation and liminality and can show itself to people who would never otherwise acknowledge its existence. In addition, although Driver states that “Ritual loves not paper,” I believe that a significant portion of Judaism and religion in general would be completely lost without paper. Through written liturgy, Jews today can learn about and experience the same emotions as millennia of ancestors and can transform those feelings into modern experience. If they choose, modern Jews can even transform such liturgy into current interpretation, belief, and social change in written works that they can distribute to millions. With Driver’s space, time, rhythm, and words, congregations can form to flexibly accommodate their beliefs into worship.
Pesach is an ideal opportunity for Judaism’s use of Driver’s ideas for ritual. Pesach stems from both a celebration of the abundance of birth in spring and of the freedom of Exodus. On the first and second nights of Pesach, families prepare and participate in a sedar, an ordered service and meal based on readings, symbolic foods, and songs. During the eight days of Pesach, Jews do not eat unleavened bread in order to symbolize the absence of leavened bread on the Israelites’ journey to their promised land. As Pesach is mostly practiced in Jewish homes, individual families can tailor their celebrations to their own interpretations of the holiday’s emphasis on the “newness, creation, creativity, freedom” (Waskow 137). During the sedar, they can discuss political issues of freedom in the modern day and even perform community service projects during the week in accordance with such issues. Different families practice different levels of abstaining from leavened bread, sing different songs during the sedar, and even include different foods on their sedar plates. All family members can take part in the ritual of the sedar, from the youngest child’s asking of the Four Questions, to the adults’ cooking and leading of the service. Thus, even with its inclusion of several standardized prayers in Hebrew, a language that Driver might call esoteric and priestly, Pesach can become a largely shamanic holiday.
Furthermore, Pesach can easily parallel Driver’s order, community, and transformation in conjunction with his four performance modes. “Sedar” literally translates to “order.” The main concept of Pesach is the celebration of the Jews’ freedom, their acceptance as a society into mankind’s bond of communitas, bolstered by the strong community of welcoming family at a sedar dinner. Finally, with seemingly infinite new prayer books, Haggadot, created for Pesach each year, and with different sedar rituals for each family, Pesach transforms itself constantly, and in the process, provides the opportunity for its performers to experience personal transformation. By worshipping in a sedar, individuals have the chance to confess their beliefs to other individuals. They can then transfer beliefs about freedom into social action through such avenues as genocide prevention and the fight for women’s and LGBT rights. With the flexibility of the sedar, families can make Pesach an incredibly enjoyable experience. Thus, as the sedar celebrates freedom, the structure of the sedar allows for freedom in its practice and can become a highly effective, transformative ritual. Both the Christian performance of sacraments and the Jewish performance of Pesach sedars can call for future liberation in their celebration of the past and present.
Thursday, February 18, 2010
Ritual as Transformation
Driver: "Transformation"
Driver states as a sort of thesis, “The business of religions and their rituals, then, is to effect transformations, not only of persons’ individual subjectivities but also transformations of society and the natural world” (172). Thus, true ritual can be considered “magical,” both carrying emotional meaning to the performer and “working” (172), having the desired effect. Ritual is liminal, bordering on the expected and unexpected. When the unexpected becomes the expected, effective ritual transformation has taken place. Ultimately, effective ritual constantly transforms itself, its performers, and the outside world.
Driver states as a sort of thesis, “The business of religions and their rituals, then, is to effect transformations, not only of persons’ individual subjectivities but also transformations of society and the natural world” (172). Thus, true ritual can be considered “magical,” both carrying emotional meaning to the performer and “working” (172), having the desired effect. Ritual is liminal, bordering on the expected and unexpected. When the unexpected becomes the expected, effective ritual transformation has taken place. Ultimately, effective ritual constantly transforms itself, its performers, and the outside world.
Tuesday, February 16, 2010
What Makes Ritual Different?
Note: This was the original post written on 2/16.
Driver:
"Ritual's Two Siblings"
"Order"
"Community"
As Driver’s arguments for the importance of ritual and ritual change become clearer to me, I wonder more and more about the need for his arguments and the truth in his separation of ritual from all other human action. In the last few readings, Driver speaks of ritual as it relates to the confessional and ethical modes of performance, order, and community. Confessional performance, he writes, occurs when a person both develops and demonstrates his or her beliefs. Ethical performance occurs when a person uses their beliefs towards the greater good, inherently confessing at the same time. But how do we distinguish ethical and confessional performance from every day life? When I get dressed in the morning, I am confessing to the world what I think is appropriate to wear. Every conversation that I have during the day both demonstrates my beliefs and contributes to others’, ultimately affecting the greater good. Driver also mentions the order and community so important to ritual. When I sit down to eat around three meals a day every day, I know that millions of people share the same structural regimen as I do, and thus, does this make my meals rituals? Driver describes liminality, the absence of normal social structure, as a defining aspect of ritual, but everything that I do during the day is a little different than what someone else would consider a social norm. Even if we refuse to consider brushing and flossing every day a ritual, we could consider attending a specific class twice a week as ritual, speaking about subjects that the majority of society would consider quite bizarre. Hence, while I believe that Driver writes a wealth of interesting material about society in general, I want to know more about what he considers ritual as compared to any other frequent human practice.
Driver:
"Ritual's Two Siblings"
"Order"
"Community"
As Driver’s arguments for the importance of ritual and ritual change become clearer to me, I wonder more and more about the need for his arguments and the truth in his separation of ritual from all other human action. In the last few readings, Driver speaks of ritual as it relates to the confessional and ethical modes of performance, order, and community. Confessional performance, he writes, occurs when a person both develops and demonstrates his or her beliefs. Ethical performance occurs when a person uses their beliefs towards the greater good, inherently confessing at the same time. But how do we distinguish ethical and confessional performance from every day life? When I get dressed in the morning, I am confessing to the world what I think is appropriate to wear. Every conversation that I have during the day both demonstrates my beliefs and contributes to others’, ultimately affecting the greater good. Driver also mentions the order and community so important to ritual. When I sit down to eat around three meals a day every day, I know that millions of people share the same structural regimen as I do, and thus, does this make my meals rituals? Driver describes liminality, the absence of normal social structure, as a defining aspect of ritual, but everything that I do during the day is a little different than what someone else would consider a social norm. Even if we refuse to consider brushing and flossing every day a ritual, we could consider attending a specific class twice a week as ritual, speaking about subjects that the majority of society would consider quite bizarre. Hence, while I believe that Driver writes a wealth of interesting material about society in general, I want to know more about what he considers ritual as compared to any other frequent human practice.
Tuesday, February 9, 2010
Sukkat Shlomecha
Today's Readings:
-Waskow, "Harvest Moon - Fulfillment at Sukkot"
-Waskow, "Seed for Winter - Sh'Mini Atzeret"
-Waskow, "Dancing with Torah - Simcaht Torah"
-Waskow, "The Towers - and a Sukkah" http://www.theshalomcenter.org/node/146
-Waskow, "The Sukkah and the WTC" http://www.theshalomcenter.rg/node/1458
When Arthur Waskow discusses possibilities for repairing the damage done to the world on September 11, 2001, he says, “We must spread over all of us the sukkah of shalom.” According to Waskow, we can apply the vulnerability of the “time” and “space” of the sukkah during Sukkot every year to the universal vulnerability of man. If we all realize our commonalities, mankind can establish the peaceful understanding of our mutual sukkah of mortality. We can apply such a sukkat shlomecha to the celebrations of such Jewish holidays as Sukkot, Sh’mini Atzeret, and Simchat Torah.
Sukkot, the seven-day celebration of the fulfillment of the harvest season, is the only holiday in which Jews are commanded to demonstrate joy. In modern times, Jews celebrate Sukkot by building a fragile hut called a Sukkah, waving a lulav and etrog, and praying to the compassionate aspects of God. In the time of the Second Temple sacrifices and ample festivities occurred during Sukkot, along with a water-pouring ritual to symbolize a call for rain in the coming season. Originally, Sukkot was connected to a pagan sun-worshipping ceremony that took place during the autumn equinox and to the worship of Baal, the Canaanite weather god. In the practice of Sukkot, the Jewish celebration of harvest and weather reflect a celebration common in all cultures and beliefs. The Jewish God of nature can be paralleled to any other culture’s gratitude for the world we all live in. On Sukkot, the Jewish people can pray for a sukkat shlomecha to craete a peaceful world that all of mankind can share, no matter how we choose to be thankful for it.
During Sh’mini Atzeret, Judaism quietly prays for a rainy winter. With such subdued prayer, Judaism acknowledges the existence of a more private joy that Sukkot somewhat overlooks. On the second day of Sh’mini Atzeret, Judaism celebrates the completion of the annual cycle of Torah reading with Simchat Torah. In this celebration, Jews complete seven hakkafot, or circle-dances with the Torah, before reading the end of Deuteronomy directly into the beginning of Genesis. Everyone in the synagogue, no matter what age, gender, or experience, may carry the Torah during the hakkafot. In modern times, Simchat Torah has turned into a celebration of the beginning of young children’s education about the Torah. With Sh’mini Atzeret’s call for more personalized prayer and Simchat Torah’s welcoming embrace of all members of the Jewish community, these holidays provide a shamanic place for Jews to find their niche in the world. Beyond the sukkat shlomecha of the Jewish community, the themes of Sh’mini Atzeret and Simchat Torah can extend to the world’s call for a successful rainy season and for the successful education of children.
In a season of holidays such as Sukkot, Sh’mini Atzeret, and Simchat Torah, Jews can transform their celebration of God into a celebration of the world that God has created and the countless different beliefs that exist within such a creation. Through mankind’s infinite different beliefs, infinite similarities in threads of prayer can harmonize into the creation of an international sukkat shlomecha, an ultimate shelter of peace.
-Waskow, "Harvest Moon - Fulfillment at Sukkot"
-Waskow, "Seed for Winter - Sh'Mini Atzeret"
-Waskow, "Dancing with Torah - Simcaht Torah"
-Waskow, "The Towers - and a Sukkah" http://www.theshalomcenter.org/node/146
-Waskow, "The Sukkah and the WTC" http://www.theshalomcenter.rg/node/1458
When Arthur Waskow discusses possibilities for repairing the damage done to the world on September 11, 2001, he says, “We must spread over all of us the sukkah of shalom.” According to Waskow, we can apply the vulnerability of the “time” and “space” of the sukkah during Sukkot every year to the universal vulnerability of man. If we all realize our commonalities, mankind can establish the peaceful understanding of our mutual sukkah of mortality. We can apply such a sukkat shlomecha to the celebrations of such Jewish holidays as Sukkot, Sh’mini Atzeret, and Simchat Torah.
Sukkot, the seven-day celebration of the fulfillment of the harvest season, is the only holiday in which Jews are commanded to demonstrate joy. In modern times, Jews celebrate Sukkot by building a fragile hut called a Sukkah, waving a lulav and etrog, and praying to the compassionate aspects of God. In the time of the Second Temple sacrifices and ample festivities occurred during Sukkot, along with a water-pouring ritual to symbolize a call for rain in the coming season. Originally, Sukkot was connected to a pagan sun-worshipping ceremony that took place during the autumn equinox and to the worship of Baal, the Canaanite weather god. In the practice of Sukkot, the Jewish celebration of harvest and weather reflect a celebration common in all cultures and beliefs. The Jewish God of nature can be paralleled to any other culture’s gratitude for the world we all live in. On Sukkot, the Jewish people can pray for a sukkat shlomecha to craete a peaceful world that all of mankind can share, no matter how we choose to be thankful for it.
During Sh’mini Atzeret, Judaism quietly prays for a rainy winter. With such subdued prayer, Judaism acknowledges the existence of a more private joy that Sukkot somewhat overlooks. On the second day of Sh’mini Atzeret, Judaism celebrates the completion of the annual cycle of Torah reading with Simchat Torah. In this celebration, Jews complete seven hakkafot, or circle-dances with the Torah, before reading the end of Deuteronomy directly into the beginning of Genesis. Everyone in the synagogue, no matter what age, gender, or experience, may carry the Torah during the hakkafot. In modern times, Simchat Torah has turned into a celebration of the beginning of young children’s education about the Torah. With Sh’mini Atzeret’s call for more personalized prayer and Simchat Torah’s welcoming embrace of all members of the Jewish community, these holidays provide a shamanic place for Jews to find their niche in the world. Beyond the sukkat shlomecha of the Jewish community, the themes of Sh’mini Atzeret and Simchat Torah can extend to the world’s call for a successful rainy season and for the successful education of children.
In a season of holidays such as Sukkot, Sh’mini Atzeret, and Simchat Torah, Jews can transform their celebration of God into a celebration of the world that God has created and the countless different beliefs that exist within such a creation. Through mankind’s infinite different beliefs, infinite similarities in threads of prayer can harmonize into the creation of an international sukkat shlomecha, an ultimate shelter of peace.
Monday, February 8, 2010
Work Done Playfully
Today's Readings:
Liberating Rites – Tom F. Driver – “Ritual, Theater, and Sacrifice” – pp. 79-106
Seasons of Our Joy – Arthur Waskow – “Face to Face - Yom Kippur” – pp. 27-45
Both Tom Driver and Arthur Waskow seem to agree on the idea of ritual as “work done playfully” (Driver 99). Before reading Waskow, I had always been taught to regard Yom Kippur as the solemn, slightly depressing holiday in which I was supposed to reflect on everything I had done wrong in the past year and fix it or else. Waskow instead shows Yom Kippur as a refreshing experience in which Jews wash away their sins, bathe in the awesomeness of God, and emerge cleansed and ready for a new year. As Abraham Joshua Heschel says, “If it was in my power, I would do away with all afflictions – except for the afflictions on the bitter day of the destruction of our Temple, Tisha B’Av, for who could bear to eat on that day! – and the afflictions on the holy and awesome day, Yom Kippur, for who needs to eat on that day?” (Waskow 31). From his and Waskow’s perspective, we refrain from the luxuries of normalcy not to punish ourselves but to devote our full energy to the draining but ironically playful work of Yom Kippur.
In our discussion about ritual’s playfulness, our class used words like “creativity,” “unpredictability,” “enjoyment,” “surprise,” and “adaptability.” Individuals and groups can play with the structure of ritual to add personal meaning and spirit to accomplished work. The playfulness in ritual adds to Driver’s idea of body before mind, the arising of ritual before the realization of ritual’s worth. We perform ritual, and then, through observation, we figure out ritual’s meaning for ourselves and take hold of the responsibility to transform such rituals to our own needs and desires.
Liberating Rites – Tom F. Driver – “Ritual, Theater, and Sacrifice” – pp. 79-106
Seasons of Our Joy – Arthur Waskow – “Face to Face - Yom Kippur” – pp. 27-45
Both Tom Driver and Arthur Waskow seem to agree on the idea of ritual as “work done playfully” (Driver 99). Before reading Waskow, I had always been taught to regard Yom Kippur as the solemn, slightly depressing holiday in which I was supposed to reflect on everything I had done wrong in the past year and fix it or else. Waskow instead shows Yom Kippur as a refreshing experience in which Jews wash away their sins, bathe in the awesomeness of God, and emerge cleansed and ready for a new year. As Abraham Joshua Heschel says, “If it was in my power, I would do away with all afflictions – except for the afflictions on the bitter day of the destruction of our Temple, Tisha B’Av, for who could bear to eat on that day! – and the afflictions on the holy and awesome day, Yom Kippur, for who needs to eat on that day?” (Waskow 31). From his and Waskow’s perspective, we refrain from the luxuries of normalcy not to punish ourselves but to devote our full energy to the draining but ironically playful work of Yom Kippur.
In our discussion about ritual’s playfulness, our class used words like “creativity,” “unpredictability,” “enjoyment,” “surprise,” and “adaptability.” Individuals and groups can play with the structure of ritual to add personal meaning and spirit to accomplished work. The playfulness in ritual adds to Driver’s idea of body before mind, the arising of ritual before the realization of ritual’s worth. We perform ritual, and then, through observation, we figure out ritual’s meaning for ourselves and take hold of the responsibility to transform such rituals to our own needs and desires.
Wednesday, February 3, 2010
Rosh Hashanah as a Shamanic and Priestly Ritual
Today's Readings:
Liberating Rites – Tom F. Driver – “Priest and Shaman: Two Pathways of Religious Ritual” – pp. 52-75
Seasons of Our Joy – Arthur Waskow – “Rosh Hashanah” – pp. 1-25
According to Driver, shamanistic ritual involves “risk-taking.” While priestly ritual thrives on order, he says, shamanistic ritual thrives on transformation, on the change that the author so readily calls for in preceding chapters. Driver writes, “The shaman invokes; the priest represents” (75). While Driver’s priest shows a congregation what they should receive from a higher power, the shaman helps the individual find his or her own interpretation of a higher message.
Although Rosh Hashanah, like many Jewish holidays, has the prescribed order of priestly ritual, it runs on the seemingly shamanistic ritual of complete renewal. On Rosh Hashanah, we say specific prayers and listen to the words of a rabbi and cantor, but without Driver’s “risk-taking,” we cannot accomplish the goals of repentance and charity that are necessary for transcription in the Book of Life. During Elul, it is our responsibility to reflect on our sins and act accordingly to correct them before Yom Kippur. While we collectively listen to the shofar and to the story of Hagar and Ishmael on Rosh Hashanah, we can interpret their meanings in infinite ways. Rosh Hashanah began as a rejection of the collective worship of the material Babylonian king and the change to a worship of one that the Jews could more personally identify with. As Waskow writes, “If all of us are subjects of the one transcendent King, then no earthly king or boss or overseer, no president or premier, can truly rule us. Then each of us owes the others the respect due to an equal – and the redress due to an equal whom we damage” (3). We could consider the worship of God in a Rosh Hashanah service as a priestly demand or as a more shamanic invocation to simply find a personalized ruler for ourselves, a different direction or theme for each follower of Judaism.
Although the proceedings of Rosh Hashanah can be considered shamanic, and it is lovely to consider a holiday centered upon the chance to create a better self, the ideas of a literal Book of Life and Book of Death are quite daunting. If during Elul, God decides who will live and who will die according to how good or bad people are, how are we supposed to think about the deceased? Does every death have to do with wrongs that person committed? I would be interested in finding other explanations in Judaism for death or figuring out an interpretation that seems a little less bleak.
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