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.
Thursday, February 25, 2010
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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