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.
Thursday, March 25, 2010
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.
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