Tomorrow! Tomorrow! I Love Ya Tomorrow!

I had a conversation with a Rabbi recently.  He was upset because a cantorial colleague of his had decided to strike out on her own, performing “destination B’nai Mitzvah”, divorcing herself from synagogue life, and setting up private Hebrew schools in community club-houses.  He fretted that this is antithetical to the idea of community and affiliation.  He felt that to be a true part of the Jewish community, one needed to belong to a synagogue. He continued, pointing out that he knows that times are changing, but  he is concerned that the future of Judaism “may bear no resemblance to the Judaism that we are familiar with.”  I looked at him, paused, smiled, and said, “I certainly hope so.”

At the recent Judaism 2030 conference, Jonathan Woocher, Chief Ideas Officer of JESNA, asked participants to share their visions for Judaism in the year 2030.  I always get nervous about future oriented questions like that.  A lot can happen in the next 19 years.  In the past, the face of Judaism has unpredictably and unalterably been transformed in shorter spans of time.  Yes we need to keep our eyes on the target of long term goals. For me I guess I’d want to see inclusive, engaged and vibrant Jewish communities both in and outside of Israel. But I also think we need to be very careful that in our rush to embrace our visions, we don’t ignore the realities of what our students need today.  After all, what will be is built on what is.  At a recent NATE webinar on the “History of Identity and Technology” facilitated by Ari Kelman, this very theme was brought up.  By engaging our students in the process of creating their own Jewish knowledge databank today, we can shape how their Jewish practice might look in 2 decades.

The reality in America today is that we are in the midst of an era in which supply side economic theory is victorious and has trickled down to what we do as Jewish educators.  It’s become all about lowering “regulatory” barriers that prevent individual expression. No longer does the synagogue determine what it means to be Jewish. Parents and kids are searching for ways to engage in Judaism on their own terms - a free market mentality.  The Judaism of tomorrow will be very different from what we, our  parents, and grandparents are familiar with. It will be shaped by what we do today.

There is no one answer, one tool, one technology that can prepare us for this mission.  There are many answers:  learning via camp-like experiences, digital platforms, family programming, Day schools, Hebrew charter schools, even old-fashioned congregational schools. These are what we are familiar with now. I expect that more approaches that we haven’t thought of yet will arise.  All we do know is that we must be open to the idea of choice. Rather then reject we must be prepared to embrace. We educators must be given the resources to retool and re-envision our profession.

“Teaching” as a concept is undergoing a metamorphosis, reflective of new modes of learning that are embedded in what Eisen and Cohen called “the Sovereign Self”. We need to reconcile ourselves to this today. If we don’t adjust how we “teach” and “lead”, we’ll render ourselves obsolete.

Tinkering With Tomorrow

When I was a kid I loved tinker-toys. I would spend hours constructing skeletal looking and what I thought were futuristic buildings.  I never knew what the outcome would be, I didn’t know if what I was building would stand up to the forces of nature or my brother’s kicks, but I had fun.  I just built and then decided if what I created was worth the effort. That was then, this is now.

I bring this up as I finish watching the videos from the recently held Jewish Futures Conference that were just posted for all of our viewing pleasure and edification. Go here to watch the presentations yourself. I’m also in the midst of reading a fascinating collection of essays published by the Association for Supervision and Curriculum Development, entitled Curriculum 21: Essential Education for a Changing World, edited by Heidi Hayes Jacobs. The book and the conference videos are serendipitously providing me an opportunity to think about how we, as Jewish educators and futurists can tinker purposefully with a Jewish tomorrow.

What will we want our children, our students, to know when they emerge from their Jewish educational cocoon?  What will the Jewish curriculum look like tomorrow?  In one of the pieces in Curriculum 21, Jacobs suggests that we ask three guiding questions as we reevaluate curriculum and content in secular education. Let’s consider them within a Jewish context:

1.    Within the discipline being reviewed, what content choices are dated and nonessential?  In our world of Jewish learning, this question can be considered heretical.  Isn’t it all sacred?  What isn’t essential? How do we evaluate that? Who makes that judgment call?

2.    What choices for topics, issues, problems, themes, and case studies are timely and necessary for our learners within disciplines?   What is happening in the Jewish world NOW? How does Jewish practice and interpretation reflect life in the 21^st century? What are the roles of Israel and the Diaspora; of men and women; of interfaith families in Jewish life?

3.    Are the interdisciplinary content choices, rich, natural, and rigorous? What does it mean to engage in Jewish life, learning, and spirituality? What are the different ways of creating meaningful Jewish experiences?

Among the winners of the Jewish Futures Competition, a contest for the most “forward looking” Jewish educational thinkers and doers that was featured at the Jewish Futures Conference, we find Charles Schwartz and Russel M. Neiss, the creators of MediaMidrash.org. In their submission to the competition they posited a paradigm for future Jewish engagement resting on four guiding principles:  

1.    Jewish resources need to be open, discoverable, and accessible. The body of Jewish learning needs to be available to all who seek it - free and non-proprietary.

2.    Remixable. Jews need to be provided the tools and opportunity to transform and reinterpret Jewish tradition and life. 

3.    Jewish education needs to be meaningful and relevant, providing the learner with a context in which to construct a Jewish life that matters.

4.    Meaningful Jewish life needs to continue to incorporate a process of community building, recognizing new definitions of affiliation and belonging, both face-to-face and virtual.

The way Jewish knowledge WILL be acquired tomorrow is different than the way it WAS attained yesterday. David Bryfman once wrote about the 19^th century revolution in general education revolving around the new fangled tool called the chalk board.  We are in the midst of a similar phenomenon, this time being driven by digital and social technology.  Learning is becoming non-linear. It is more and more a social process, driven by demand and developed by a community that is linked in synchronous and a-synchronous environments, both present and remote. For better or worse, education is turning into an even messier affair than it already is.  This is what will drive us to answer the questions of what to teach. The structure will be more fluid, transparent and flexible. Stephen Wilmarth writes in Curriculum 21 how education has been a cathedral, an elegant top-down process designed by “wizards and experts”.  The future reality can be described as a bazaar, a market place that is noisy and unpredictable, a result of uncontrollable forces.  Knowledge will be open to all, redefined and remixed when appropriate so as to become personally and communally meaningful in contexts of yet unimagined social networks, creating new types of communities.

Jonathan Woocher, in his closing remarks at the Jewish Futures Conference notes that there is no one Jewish future.  It can’t be pre-determined.  There are multiple possibilities. Schwartz and Neiss retell the midrash of Moses visiting Akiva’s classroom of the future, not understanding a word, even though his teaching is the lesson being taught.   If we were to step into H.G. Wells’ Time Machine and be transported into a Jewish learning environment of the future, what would we find? Would it be alien to us?  Should it be?

Long Distance Runaround: Pondering the CyBar/CyBat Mitzvah

When I first read this past Sunday’s New York Time’s article on digital B’nai Mitzvah preparation, my first thought was that it was intriguing that this topic would be the lead story in, of all things, the Fashion and Style section. It then occurred to me that the topic’s visibility in the soft news section is a sign of how truly mainstream Judaism has become in American culture. This is what we have been fighting for – to be accepted in secular society. We have done such a good job that a central Jewish-American ritual has become a subject of pop culture. Like all the rest of American lifestyle, our traditions are now morphing into something potentially unrecognizable in this real world made virtual.

The point of the article, as I see it, can be found in this question asked in the fourth paragraph of the piece: “If dating, shopping and watching TV can be revolutionized by the Internet, why should bar and bat mitzvahs be immune?” That is it in a nutshell. Our communal striving for normalization and acceptance in the Diaspora has essentially led to the eradication of the line between the holy/kadosh and the mundane/hol. Nothing is sacred. Our coming of age ceremony, which is more of a process of becoming then merely a single event, has lost so much of its uniqueness that it can be acquired while the recipient is physically absent. Is this a tragedy? Maybe. What do we do about it? Embrace it.

Reaction to the CyBar/CyBat phenomenon seems to center on it being a reflection of a general decline in the centrality of Jewish communal life in the early 21st century. This is not news – those of us who work in synagogues struggle with this on an almost daily basis. We respond by trying to find new ways to engage our existing synagogue members and families, as well as to reach out to the unaffiliated. We are constantly exploring new models and technologies, and striving to create new visions that will enhance existing institutions. This is as it should be, and this is why we need to see the rise of the digital B’nai Mitzvah as an opportunity for us to expand our community. This requires developing a new paradigm of affiliation and membership. We need to leverage on-line participation, incorporating it into what we do in our brick and mortar facilities. This may take the form of a new synagogue membership category with its own price structure - call it “Virtual” if you will. We should contemplate creating semi-permeable walls that welcome those who are trying to find their own personal niche in the Jewish community. We must dare to think that digital experiences, if handled artfully, can be gateways to synagogue life for the unaffiliated. Face-to-face encounters no longer may be the only, or even primary, means of introduction to the Jewish community.

A Florida Rabbi I know, upon reading the Time’s article commented, “We have met the enemy, and he is us.” This made me think of Sun-Tzu, the 6th century Chinese author of “The Art of War” who wrote, “keep your friends close, but your enemies closer”. We, the inheritors of the tradition passed down to us from Moses to the Great Assembly to our parents need to find the open hands waiting to receive that birthright. Could it be that those we think are the “enemies”, those we accuse of emasculating the Judaism from which we grew, are actually reshaping our heritage, leading us to the next step in a dynamic and flourishing Jewish future?

Strikes, Spares and the Jewish Future

I’m a bowler. I’m in a league. Sometimes I hate it. You see, once the ball is rolled, the outcome is by no means assured. I can control how I grasp the ball, swing and release it, but that’s it. Once it’s thrown, it interacts with the oil that is spread on the lane and is impacted by the laws of physics that determine the way it hits the pins, as it ricochets, slides and rolls. I can set up the perfect shot, but the process that takes place after I release that sphere is up to forces over which I have no control. There are too many variables. It’s sort of like planning for a Jewish future (you knew this was going somewhere.)

We can plan tactics, strategies, and methods of engagement but when we talk about modern Jews, we’re not dealing with a herd (Klal Yisrael notwithstanding). The phenomenon that Cohen and Eisen defined in The Jew Within 10 years ago describes American Judaism today and probably tomorrow – Jews are making their own Shabbat and are increasingly becoming alienated from established forms of Jewish communal life. Jonathan Woocher got it right last week when he wrote that we need to adjust the paradigm of Jewish education, empowering each individual to be involved in personally constructing "a meaningful and satisfying Jewish journey." And this is how building a Jewish future is like bowling.

There are many different types of bowling bowls designed for the particular style of individual bowlers. One size cannot fit all. As we design the foundations of 21st (and 22nd) century Judaism, not only do we need to contemplate how to link the silos of Jewish institutional life; we may very well need to build new ones to replace the antiquated structures that are still standing. But we can’t tear everything down, at least not for the time being.

As long as I’ve been in my present position as a synagogue educator, I’ve communicated with my religious school families via weekly e-mails. This year I decided to take the next step - I just created a religious school Facebook page. I happily announced it and received fascinating feedback. There were those religious school parents (all in their 30s and 40s) who thought it was cool. Then there were those (same demographic) who began to tremble in their shoes…as one religious school mom put it: “I’m one of the handful of people who refuse to use Facebook. I hope you will continue with your email updates.” As I’ve written before, we need to be careful of how quickly we embrace our future. We don’t want to leave anyone behind.

Obviously it will be impossible for us to forecast the outcomes as we tinker with the Jewish future. We may be positive that we’ll get a strike, but in the end we may only knock down a few pins. The trajectory of 21st century Judaism is radically different from anything that Jewish civilization has experienced before. One center of Jewish life, concentrated in North America, is a place where state sanctioned anti-Semitism by and large never existed – at least not since Peter Stuyvesant and Ulysses S. Grant. The only Jewish ghettos in the United States were self-imposed. This communal history has left an indelibly unique mark on the character of American Judaism.

The other center is Israel – with a flavor of Judaism that is defined by an amalgam of socialism, European nationalism and religious orthodoxy, and topped off with strife, both internally born and externally imposed. The resulting concoction is a type of Jewish identity that, at times, is almost alien to the Jewish sensibilities of its brothers/sisters/cousins across the great sea. Is it possible to link these silos?

In “The Big Lebowski”, John Goodman, playing the weirdest Jew I’ve ever seen, declares that he doesn’t “roll on Shabbos”. Now that I think about it, he may not be so weird, actually. He’ll drive. He’ll drink. He’ll fight. He just won’t bowl. He’s like many of us. We all seem to be making our own “Shabbos”. As we strive to engineer the future of our people, we must not be so confident that we have all the answers. We don’t. Sometimes the exception, or the unexpected, becomes the rule. That’s the only thing we can be sure of.

My Dad, Repentance, and Mosques

Of late I’ve been obsessing about the controversy over the Muslim center in lower Manhattan.  Those of you who pay attention to my tweets or Facebook postings will have noticed this.  There’s a very simple reason.

B-14777

That’s the number on my father’s arm.

We children of survivors are witnesses.  Imbedded in our genes is the understanding that oppression takes many forms:  quotas, job restrictions, zoning restrictions, segregation, marriage bans, ghettos, slavery, Auschwitz. If we don’t stand up at the first signs of the evil of prejudice, Martin Niemoller’s prophecy will come true.

Call me obsessed.  I’m second generation.  I grew up with The Number.  And hearing the memories.  My aunt regaling us with tales of her stay in Plaszow and Birkenau and Feldafing.   My uncle being part of the crew cleaning up the Warsaw Ghetto while the fighting was still going on.  My mother being smuggled out of the Budapest ghetto by her mom to get bread – at the risk of her 8  year old life. My father being introduced to life in Birkenau (he was 16) when he saw the flames rising above the chimneys and being told that that is what’s left of his parents. That’s my legacy.  And my lesson.

So I am embarrassed by Jews who oppose the Park 51 project. We have been the victims of much worse.  Jonathan Sarna spelled it out here :  how we (the Jews) were victims of the same type of hatred that Glenn Beck,  Sarah Palin and  their ilk  preach today. In America:  the Goldener Madina.

Oppression starts mundanely. My mom tells the story of how in the beginning of the Fascist occupation of Hungary, Jews couldn’t own radios. When she was 6 she couldn’t buy an ice-cream cone at her favorite vendor because she was a Jew.   That led to you-know-what. 

The majority rules, but not absolutely.  Conventional wisdom can be wrong.  At one point, the majority of Americans supported the internment of Japanese-Americans in concentration camps, school segregation between African-Americans and whites, and treating Gays as second-class citizens. The majority has been wrong. 

It’s Elul.  We need to start thinking about T’shuva – Repentance.  If we stand silent, or oppose the right of another religious minority to build a community center or house of worship because it “doesn’t feel right”, we are validating The Final Solution. Because if we deny a minority their rights, we may be next.  

Then they came for the Jews, and I did not speak out --

Because I was not a Jew.
Then they came for me -- and there was no one left to speak for me. (Martin Niemoller)

Opening the Door Wider

The theme of rebuilding connections to Israel has been making Jewish headlines this past week.  The newly released Jewish Agency strategic plan (Securing the Future: Forging a Jewish Agency for Israel and the Jewish People) sets out a blueprint that would lead to forging new links between Israel and the next generation, thereby ensuring the continued centrality of Israel and Zionism in 21^st century Judaism. The new focus will be the younger generation, Jews between the ages of 13 and 35.  The tool will be creating more programs that will entice this age group to step through the door and come to Israel to study, to play, to visit, and maybe, ultimately to live.

What the Jewish Agency is planning makes perfect sense. It is not news that the best way to connect anyone to Israel is by taking them there. However, there is one glitch.  Yes we need to focus on those born in the last 3 decades.  But I think we are forgetting that there is a whole other group of people who may never have been to Israel, and have considerable influence on whether teens will go or not.  I’m talking about their parents.  Without their buy-in, their kids won’t be on that El Al flight to Ben Gurion airport.

According to Jack Wertheimer (The Truth About American Jews and Israel), only 35% of American Jews have visited Israel.  The 2000-2001 National Jewish Population Study estimated this number to be 41% of all Jews, and less then 30% of those between the ages of 18 and 54 (today’s 28 to 64 year olds).  We can’t just focus on teens.  We need to reach out to their parents, the folks who will sign the permission slip.  These are the people who came of age in the ‘80s, who grew up with Israel’s image being tarnished by the 1982 Lebanon war, the first Intifada and Gulf War #1.  This is a generation that never went to Israel because of the perceived violence and danger.  They haven’t had a chance to experience Israel first-hand.  They have raised their kids to see Israel as being somewhat important, but are unable to share their own personal impressions. These are the parents of the kids who now attend congregational schools and confirmation programs and who tell me “It’s too dangerous to send my kid to Israel.” These are the folks we need to send there.  If they go, their children are more likely to follow.

A flight to Israel during summer (when kids are on vacation) costs over $1000.00 a person. For a family of 4 we’re probably talking over $6000 for everything. I think the time has come to make it easier to get to Israel.  We seem to be moving in the right direction with college students and young adults.  We’re about to work on getting more teens there.  I propose that we create programs that focus on families who have never been to Israel:  sort of like Birthright, but for parents and their school-aged children.

I know it’s a lot of money and this idea is fraught with logistical impossibilities, but I believe that parents are the best teachers, and if they fall in love with Israel, this will influence how they raise their children.  Maybe I’m being impractical and unrealistic, however I am an old-time Zionist who still believes in what Herzl said:  Im Tirzu Eyn Zo Agadah:  If you will it, it is no dream. The door is open. We just need to try to entice more folks to step through.

Teva-JNF seminar: pt 4 - The Jewish Edge Effect

Changing frames of reference.  That’s really the best way to describe this past week’s Teva Seminar on Jewish Environmental Education. Old ideas were presented in new packaging, and new concepts were introduced in the context of tradition (albeit in new garb, as well). These are examples of what I call the “Jewish Edge Effect”.

A few days ago I wrote about the scientific concept of “the edge effect”: the phenomenon of increased biodiversity in areas where different habitats meet. We can observe the Jewish edge effect when different Jewish perspectives converge and create new approaches to both tradition and modernity, challenging and modifying conventional wisdom.  That’s what happened here, specifically in terms of the JNF and Israel.

The presentations and programs from the Jewish National Fund were geared to present Israel in a benign, green fashion, sidelining the political elephant in the room.  I think to a great extent they succeeded:  The educators who participated in those sessions came away with ideas of how to present the Jewish State in positive ways that are accessible to all, and especially speak to young people – those who, according to research and experience, are the least engaged when it comes to Israel. 

This is where the Jewish edge effect comes in. At the Teva seminar, all participants learned that “nature has no boundaries” (Noam Dolgin) and that preserving the ecological balance in the region can be the key leading to less hostilities and even (dare I say it?) peace.   But this was just one small piece.  Sessions on climate change, Shabbat as an example for sustainable living, and rabbinic perspectives on consumption created a mindset for all participants to open up to other possibilities.  The “Topsy-Turvy” bus that sat by the lake in the parking lot across from the dining hall was, I think, the most salient example of how things can be seen differently.  This had a significant impact on how those Jewish educators from “main stream” institutions who participated in the JNF programming will approach teaching about Israel in the future.

If we present Israel as a place where nature happens, a place where the inhabitants cope with sharing scarce resources, could this possibly effect how our students look at Israel in the future; not as a venue of conflict, but as a land that needs to be worked and protected (Genesis 2:15)? A changing frame of reference regarding Eretz Yisrael, focusing on the context of The Land that is shared by all, might create a new spark of caring for those who don’t remember ’67, but do remember Gaza and the flotilla.  

I’m not so naïve as to believe that JNF’s mission has changed:  its raison d’être is classic Zionist: to create a majority Jewish presence on the Land.  However maybe if the sentiments of future supporters of JNF and Israel are not just motivated by demographic and nationalist concerns, but rather by caring for the Land and its promise, we may find a renewed interest in Israel and Zionism, which might then have a real influence on Israel itself.

The Jewish edge effect describes a framework for the promise of an evolving Judaism.  One that draws from different cultural, technological and intellectual habitats that converge and from which can spring forth a flourishing Jewish tomorrow.  

Teva-JNF seminar:pt.3

I was on an upside-down bus today.  Actually it’s called the “Topsy-turvy bus”.  Here it is:

 

Originally a work of art by the late artist Tom Kennedy, this unique mode of transportation has now become a tool for education: teaching new paradigms in the way we look at our relationship with the planet.  The bus runs on vegetable oil and has recently completed a cross-country trip, the goal of which was to deliver green education to all and sundry. For more information you can go to the Jewish Climate Change Campaign Tour blog.

Rachel, one of the drivers in the recent journey described the teaching method behind the bus madness as “taking folks by surprise.” Getting people’s attention is way to get them to be more receptive to a new message and way of seeing reality.  I think we have  a lot to learn from this when it comes to teaching about Israel.

One of the sessions I attended today was offered by the Jewish National Fund and focused on the “GoNeutral Project”. Its purpose is to create a connection between Israel and planting trees as a means of controlling carbon emissions.  It’s a clever idea, and makes it easy to care about an Israel where the politics are irrelevant.  It’s effective because most of us associate the JNF with the blue boxes and the issue of land ownership.  This reaches us because it frames the whole issue in the surprising context of Israel's role in reducing the threat of greenhouse gases. A good beginning towards getting us to change how we look at the Jewish State. More work needs to follow, but at least we are starting to make the first baby steps.

Teva-JNF seminar:pt.2

I learned a new concept today: “The Edge effect”. This is a term used in environmental sciences that describes the phenomenon of increased biodiversity in areas where different habitats meet. This means that in areas where a forest and a meadow touch each other, you’ll find greater varieties of species coexisting. The introduction of new and seemingly disparate elements into a system expands it. Nili Simhai, Director of the Teva Seminar on Jewish Environmental Education, introduced this theme as she welcomed us all to this year’s 16th annual conference. She was teaching it in the context of Jewish environmental awareness and the interface between the learner, the teacher and the land, but I’m going to extrapolate from it: The education experience is like an ecosystem. The way we teach something has an impact on what we’re teaching. By bringing in new and possibly novel ideas and modalities, we can have an influence on both the learner and on what she is learning. While this isn’t such a revolutionary idea, the setting in which it was articulated made it special.

Rabbi Arthur Waskow followed Nili by exploring a spiritual aspect of the current environmental crises: Finding God in the Gulf, if you will. He started with the unpronounceable name of the Deity, explaining that it can only be articulated by exhaling. He’s right. Try to pronounce those 4 Hebrew letters. You can’t. If God’s essence is in a breath, then all life (human and other) is united by this. “The breathing of all life is God’s name.”  The implication is that “God’s own name is at risk” today on this planet, because of the threat to its ecological soundness. I found this thought refreshing not because I’ve become a follower of Jewish renewal (I have not), but because it reframed the question of our relationship to the environment, adding an extra layer to how we relate to it, interact with it, and influence it. The edge effect in action, if you will.

In my last post I wrote about my expectations of this seminar and how I hoped it would provide a new way to teach about Israel. Now I want to see how this “edge effect” can also describe the influence our teaching can have not only on the learner, but also on The Land.

Learning To Read All Over Again: Part 2

# 1. Our task as Jewish educators is to prepare and motivate students to use their power, talent, and passion to build their own Jewish lives, rooted in who they are and what they consider important. When through this individualized Jewish exploration, am’cha leads themselves into their own dreams, they will contribute in new and beautiful ways to the diversity of Jewish life. Even in these challenging times, there is no greater investment we could make. (Beth Cousens: http://ejewishphilanthropy.com/making-jewish-meaning/)

#2. The core of any mature tree is old wood. The old wood is crucial to maintaining the tree’s structure, its ability to withstand the changing winds, but no growth is going on there. The living processes that are the growth of the tree, its message to the future, take place only in the tree’s newest and outermost ring. We today are that outermost ring, and the growing is up to us. (Rabbi Zalman Schachter Shalomi, quoted in Contemporary American Judaism by Dana Evan Kaplan)

#3. One Book, One Twitter: What the hell do we do now, #1b1t? (@crowdsourcing)

#4. Chester Middle School Principal Ernie Jackson… challenged reading and social studies teacher Mel Wesenberg to find ways to use text messaging to teach poetry. The results were surprising: Kids who used their cell phones to boil down the main points of the stanzas got 80 percent of the questions about a poem correct on a state test. Kids taught the same poem in the traditional way – reading, reciting and discussing – got only 40 percent of the questions right. (http://www.recordonline.com/apps/pbcs.dll/article?AID=/20100426/NEWS/100429736)

In my last post I pondered the concept of cultural and technological literacy, and how it applies to the craft of Jewish teaching. I just read an article written by Beth Cousens, (see #1, above) that articulated the need for personal ownership of knowledge. Learning needs a heart to be real. Without belonging to the student, it becomes sterile, and ultimately besides the point. But wait…there’s more.

I’ve just finished Contemporary American Judaism by Dana Evan Kaplan. It’s a fascinating read that describes how we ended up where we are today. Reb Zalman’s musings on the relationship between tree growth and the Jewish tomorrow (see #2) struck a chord in me, articulating the dynamic between the past, the future and today’s students. Jewish learning is a force that connects all generations. This linkage, by necessity, leads to an obligation. We are each responsible, one for the other – including teaching those who have not yet been born. The meaning we create leads to conceptualizations that have yet to be grasped. But wait…there’s more.

I imagine you’ve all heard of the concept of “One Book, One Community”, where a whole community reads and discusses a book - all in “the real world”. Wired Magazine’s Jeff Howe (@crowdsourcing) has gone one step further, proposing and making real an idea so simple in its elegance: a community in the twitterverse will read one book and then discuss it “one tweet at a time” (#3). Thousands of “tweeps” (denizens of the twitterverse) will exchange ideas about a piece of modern American fiction (in this case American Gods by Neil Gaiman). The kehillah, the community, is redefined, giving birth to new modes of interaction. A new type of learning community is born. The revolutionary Talmudic trans-generational conversations of the past have led us to digital discussions in virtual time. But wait…there’s more.

A New York State middle school has made a successful step in integrating the way 21^st century technology can be used in a language program, using cell phone texting as a teaching tool (#4). The initial results seem positive, the validity of state testing as a valid measure of student achievement being in question, notwithstanding. The implications of this lead us to consider the creation of a new form of midrash, reflecting new forms of realities and unthought-of technologies.

Where does this lead us?

The new language in which we need to immerse ourselves to reach our students is a tool that forces us to encounter a world in which poetry and novels can be interpreted in 140 characters. It’s a world where the mechanics of learning are newly defined in the contexts of digital brains and the ability to hyperconnect: to actively participate in an interactive virtual world where information from a myriad of sources is assimilated, translated and reduced to bits and bytes that are easily manipulated by these 21^st century minds. When we build our new models for learning and teaching, we need to understand the hardwiring in our students’ heads, taking advantage of its schematics as an opportunity to grant our students the gift of creating personal meaning as they initiate their own Jewish explorations.

As a tree grows it adds new rings on old; its roots grow deeper and its branches longer and higher. It expands in all directions, taking nourishment from the earth, the air, and from itself: old wood feeding the new. Reb Zalman is right: We are currently the outermost ring; it’s up to us to provide the sustenance that will nurture the next one.

One Way or Another

I just read a depressing column in last week’s Forward ( http://forward.com/articles/120123/). It was written by Rabbi Irving Greenberg and it was entitled “There is No Alternative to Day Schools”. In the piece Rabbi Greenberg spelled out his case for massive funding for Day School education, declaring that that there is no other alternative in the fight against assimilation. He calls for the organized Jewish community to “muster its will to live and step up to pay the price – whatever it costs – for the highest level of Jewish education for its young.” Great sentiments. I agree with Rabbi Greenberg. Unfortunately, the solution he is proposing marginalizes most American Jews. That’s why it’s sad.

The majority of those getting any Jewish education in the U.S. do NOT attend Day Schools. Most of them have chosen the path of Congregational education. There are a lot of reasons, cost being just one. The point is that this is where most of the kids are and, I believe, where they will be in the future. So to declare that the Jewish Community needs to invest its education resources primarily in Day Schools ignores the reality of American Jewish life.

Congregational schools (Hebrew Schools, Supplementary Schools, whatever you want to call them) have gotten a bad rap over the years - in some cases deservedly so. Many of us “of a certain age” recall with shudders our Hebrew School experiences. Ironically, some of us have chosen, davka, to work in Jewish education to make it better. That’s the point. There are many Jewish educators in North America who are working very hard to recreate the Congregational School, reformatting it if you will. We’re experimenting with technology, experiential education, off-site learning, service-learning, camp-like experiences. You will find us at conferences, or in the cloud on Twitter and Google Wave. Those of us who work in Jewish education and are affiliated with Synagogue schools understand that the reality of the Jewish community is expressed in its diversity. There is no ONE way. We need to reach the kids however we can. This means that Day Schools, by definition, are definitely NOT the only alternative.

The organized Jewish community (i.e. federations) doesn’t seem to get this message. They are proud of the amount of money they give their community Day Schools, but when asked about how much they give to synagogue schools, in many cases the sound of silence reigns supreme. Amending Rabbi Greenbergs dramatic call, I believe that community organizations must “muster their will” to promote ALL Jewish education, embracing the diversity that is the strength of Judaism. It is time for synagogues and other non-Day School entities to have a seat at the community table when the discussion turns to funding the education of the next generation.

I’m not sure if Rabbi Greenberg will ever see these words. If you do, Rabbi, please understand that I wrote them with only respect for you and your message. I hope that you can understand that the future of Judaism that is embodied in our young people is rooted in more than one type of learning. During the Pesach seder we embrace the four sons, reveling in how they come to us with different questions (even if we don’t like the way they are asked), looking for answers that speak to them. We must remember that they are our children. We cannot turn them away.

Halloween, and other Scary Monsters

I’m running out of candy.

And they keep ringing my doorbell.

So I’m sitting here, wearing my “Scream” face (you know – the demon with the BIG mouth from the movie) and my“Cat In The Hat” hat on my head, waiting for the inevitable.

I really wasn’t planning on blogging about Halloween. I mean I think it’s amusing that there are folks who think it’s a terrible holiday because of its pagan roots. I even got yelled at because I called this week’s Junior Congregation “Spooky Shabbat”. I figured we would tell stories like the Witch of Endor (II Samuel) or about vampires (Sefer Chassidim) or about the Golem (the Maharal). I can’t say I was surprised, though. We have a lot of censorship in the Jewish community.

I think that’s really what I want to blog about. That’s what’s been keeping from posting for the past 6 weeks.

You see, I’ve wanted to write about Israel, but I was worried that what I would write would be too controversial. It would challenge the mainstream view of the heroic Jewish state. I launched a trial balloon about contemporary Diaspora connections to “The State” on Twitter at #jed21, but they were ignored. Quoting Gomer Pyle – “Surprise, surprise, surprise”.

And then there was J.Street (http://jstreet.org). I’ve been a supporter since it began. I believe that one’s support of, or opposition to, settlements in the West Bank should not be a measure of one’s support of Israel. But, in America, it seems that folks are so paranoid that if you make a public statement opposing current Likud policy you are branded a self-hating Jew. This, despite the fact that the same views are held by many Israelis, including Israeli parliament members representing main stream Zionist parties, like the Labor party and segments of Kadima. That pisses me off, because I love Israel. I love being Jewish. And I oppose settlement expansion. I’ve been a supporter and participant of Shalom Achsav (Peace Now – the mainstream Israeli peace movement) since it’s inception in 1978 and took part in anti-war demonstrations while I served in the IDF as a combat medic in the West Bank. Does that make me anti-Israel? I dare you to tell me so.

The Zionist movement has always been democratic. My god, there were folks (including Theodore Herzl) who were in favor of creating “Altneuland” in…Uganda. Can you imagine what that would mean? Making aliya to Kampala? So to say that J.street is not pro-Israel because it opposes current Israeli government policy is an expression of one’s (how do I say this?) ignorance of things Zionist. Can you say "Swift-boating"?

J.street is the embodiment of our people’s struggle with the idea of “Der Judenstaat”. What is the nature of creating a Jewish state? How do we deal with the OTHER inhabitants of The Land? More to the point, what is Diaspora Judaism’s role in this process? I think that is an incredibly important question. We don’t live in Israel. Our kids aren’t drafted to the IDF. So do we have a right to an opinion? If we don’t does that mean that we should we stop giving money to Israeli organizations that promote a political agenda, such as American Friends of Ateret Cohanim or American Friends of the Likud that support continued settlement growth in the West Bank, or American Friends of Peace Now or B’tselem, that don’t? What are our roles, in the Galut, the Diaspora, when it comes to Israel and policy?

I’m going to ask it again: Do we have a right to an opinion? If we don’t, what does this say about the state of Zionism, a movement that was created to link Galut with Eretz Yisrael?

If we don’t have a right to an opinion, what does this say about our relationship to Israel?

BOO!!!

To Be, Or Not To Be...Part Of The Jewish Community. That Is The Question

A few weeks ago a story broke in our local paper about a Jewish girl who is being privately trained for her Bat Mitzvah. The happy event will take place on a cruise ship – hence we are speaking of a “boat-mitzvah”. The family has not been affiliated with any synagogue. Letters to the Editor were sent by Rabbis and congregational leaders bemoaning the fact that such a ceremony was being planned and implemented sans congregational blessing. A hue and cry was raised asserting that becoming a Bat (or Bar) Mitzvah implies becoming part of the Jewish community, and to celebrate this milestone without said community makes the ceremony meaningless. This is all true, but…

I think the issue is that people are trying to find new ways of engaging in what they see as Judaism. Granted, deciding that the Bat Mitzvah should take place on a cruise without any synagogue involvement is troubling – reflecting a sense of communal alienation. Down here in Palm Beach County we suffer from an extremely high rate of non-affiliation – I believe that we are close to having the highest rate in the United States. What has caused such an alarming statistic? Is it a symptom of a poor educational system that failed to transmit the message of klal yisrael to these peripherally engaged Jews, or is because many feel that it's really expensive to be part of the organized Jewish community today, or is it that they perceive (rightly or wrongly) that they are not welcomed in congregations because they are in interfaith marriages? What do we do about all this? Is it fair to blame the unaffiliated, or must we look at ourselves in a mirror – seeing our own blemishes? What are our responsibilities?

The definition of living Jewishly is changing. This is not news. Assumptions regarding our relationship to Israel and to the organized Jewish community are being challenged. I refer you, for instance, to this article in New Voices – National Jewish Student Magazine: http://www.newvoices.org/community?id=0016 . The implications are, to say the least, intriguing. Questioning what traditional Jewish affiliation is has become acceptable and mainstream. What we are witnessing, it seems, is a redefinition of what it means to be part of the tribe. I’m not sure this is so bad.

When we are challenged, we thrive. I think that is what is happening to Judaism today. We are being forced to question what we always thought was right, and rethink what we need to do in the future. We are starting the process of retooling ourselves, developing new paradigms that will shape what it means to be Jewish, tomorrow.

You know what? I’m glad. Yeah – we always need to look back, but we have to focus on the road ahead. Seeing what’s behind us is what rear view mirrors are all about. However, the action is always in front of us. That’s why windshields are so big.

Here’s wishing one and all a joyous, sweet and fulfilling New Year. L’shana Tova u’m’tooka.

Buddy, Can You Spare A Dime?

San Francisco - an incredible city. I just returned from what I thought would be a 5 day respite from my “real world”. I explored, what was for me, a new corner of the globe. The food, the climate, and the tourist attractions – all were unforgettable. And so was the real world I crashed into - the homeless denizens of the Bay Area: that community of rootless individuals living in doorways, panhandling, living their lives – if that’s what you can call it – the best they can. I kept asking myself “Why?”

While on my vacation, I kept up, as best I could, with my on-line life (much to my wife’s chagrin!) A theme that popped up was about the individualistic nature of today’s Jewish young people. They, it seems, want to know what Judaism and the Jewish community can do for them as individuals. What can the “we” do for “me”? Okay, in the context of the American ethos of hyper-individualism (sort of an extension of Ayn Rand’s concept of selfishness as a virtue), American Jews seem to strive for individual fulfillment in their Jewish identity. How does this inform the work we do as Jewish educators? How do we teach that “us” matters?

We’ve been mulling over the apparent failure of contemporary Jewish education. We’ve been trying to figure out how to make being a Jew in the 21^st century meaningful to the individual. Maybe we are focusing on the wrong thing. I’m not sure if the Jews of the future who are growing up today hear God the way we or our parents do: through ritual, B’nai Mitzvah, Hebrew, Israel. We need to find new hearing aids.

The lost souls of San Francisco’s Tenderloin district got me thinking about how holiness and community can be found by supporting the fallen, raising them from the doorways that are their beds. Perhaps creating Jewish schools of conscience, schools where mitzvot bein adam l'chavero – obligations relating to human interactions - are taught as being the essence of Jewish community, is a direction that we can take to help students hear God again. Maybe through teaching that together we can make a difference in the world, we would be providing the key that would help the one student join with the many, creating a compelling reason to be part of something larger. Conceivably, the concept of Klal Yisrael may need to be redefined as the Jewish path that starts with study, leads to action, and ends with a new and different world. Jewish, because inherent in this old-new Halacha is the word tzedek – justice.

Who knows? Maybe our children will find God living on Market Street.

Of Parking Meters and Particle Colliders

At the beach I was flummoxed by technology. Once upon a time we’d go the shore, find a parking spot and deposit whatever loose change we had into the parking meter. There has been a revolution, though. The old fashioned parking meter was replaced by a computerized one, which now handles the entire lot. We keyed in our parking space number, deposited the requisite amount of quarters, and the meter remembered how much time we had. Cool! For some reason however, the-powers-that-be determined to revert to a hybrid system: No more parking numbers. We deposit our quarters and then (are you ready for this high tech solution?) we receive a paper receipt that we must place face-up on the driver’s side dash. It seems that the technological innovators of South Florida didn’t totally get what they were doing. It’s the old 1 step – 2 step shuffle. Backwards.

Recently I’ve read about the problems facing CERN’s Large Hadron Particle Collider - a piece of super advanced science equipment that was felled after only 9 days of operation by essentially an electrical short. So far it’s taken a year to figure out how to fix it. Sometimes I think modern technology is enthusiastically embraced without fully understanding the ramifications or consequences.

I’m not suggesting anything as luddite as to slow down. We need to progress. My question is if we’re moving too fast for everyone else? This morning’s NY Times had an article about the move into digital textbooks. You can find it here: http://www.nytimes.com/2009/08/09/education/09textbook.html?scp=4&sq=tamar%20lewin&st=cse. It’s not that it’s a bad idea. I embrace it, but the question (raised in the article) is what to do with kids who don’t have computers. Will the technology we need to utilize to move forward have an unintended side affect of creating a class of people who don’t have equal access - the educational haves and have-nots? We need to think this process through to its logical conclusion.

So how do we not repeat the mistake of the Delray Beach Ministry of Parking or CERN? How do we take control of the use of technology in our classrooms without paying a price? The particle collider costs something like $10 billion. The cost of our misusing technology or (worse) misunderstanding the ramifications of using these tools in the Jewish classroom is much higher. Yes, we’ll make mistakes and pay good money for them. This will not make our congregational funders pleased – they already have limited tolerance for trial and error anyway. But it’s the kids that concern me the most. I don’t think we want to lose an entire generation because we didn’t totally understand what we were doing.

As we travel into the yet uncharted void of the digital universe, it seems to me that we need to make sure of three things: That we are comfortable with the technology, that the teachers who will be the front line practitioners, understand how these tools work, and that the students don’t suffer from OUR growing pains. The kids will have no patience for our fumbling. On our journey, we need to tether our teachers and students with us. But the line needs to be short. We need to be able to reel them in quickly. We can’t lose them. The worst sin of an educator is irrelevance. It’s a price we can’t pay.

Riding Two Horses At Once

On Friday night I went to my synagogue’s “Blue Jean Shabbat”, during which we all ate hotdogs, drank Sam Adams beer and welcomed the Sabbath Bride, who was accompanied by Uncle Sam, in commemoration of Erev July 4. A happily serendipitous confluence of celebrations: both spiritual and political.

When I was growing up, my mom would recite a Hungarian saying: “You can’t ride 2 horses with one bottom (in Magyar the word for the bodily part is “segg”, which is slightly more graphic, but you get the point). How do we American Jews/Jewish Americans manage this feat? How do we reconcile our affinity to both promised lands, the one in the east and the one in the west?

This concerns me in light of recent political events in the Middle East; the ramifications of which I fear will come to roost here. There has always been more or less a condominium of interests between the governments of Israel and the United States. When things weren’t so lovey-dovey, like during the period of Bush the First and the loan guarantees issue, these divisions were swept under the rug as much as possible. With Obama’s call for a true just peace agreement between Israel and Palestine on the table, and with Israel’s political leadership minimizing the centrality of the Jewish settlement issue in reaching said peace agreement, are we fast approaching some type of conflict that will be harder to hide?

How to we teach loyalty to a country and an idea (Israel and Zionism) when the practical policies of that land have the potential of running counterpoint to the stated policies and values of the U.S. of A? I’m referring not just to the issues of Jewish settlement in the West Bank but also pending legislation that would limit freedom of speech in Israel for non-Jews and their Jewish sympathizers. Which horse do we ride? More to the point, which Israel do we teach? What vision of Israel do we want the next generation to embrace – that of Shas or Avigdor Lieberman or Tzippi Livni or Gershon Baskin?

More practically, who decides which vision to teach? In the constellation of the American Jewish organizational alphabet soup, who is the arbiter of truth?

I offer no answers - just a lot of questions that we will all need to confront in the weeks and months to come as we move towards peace or war in Israel/Palestine.