The Rubicon is wider than I thought

So I won’t be the president.  I have mixed emotions there: on one hand, I have the clearest vision of the transformation I’d like to see; on the other, presidency is a super-sized load of responsibility and tzarot (constraining troubles).

The gripping hand in this case is that I spoke to the slated president, and I believe she’s on board with as much of my vision as I can communicate verbally.  So perhaps the result will not fully match my vision – but perhaps it will.  I suspect I’ll end up with plenty of work to do.

Once, Twice, Three Times (for my lady)

Sarah and I learned earlier this week that we’re expecting. We’re following Sybil Sanchez’s approach, and being open about it, in large part because of the experience we had with our first and second pregnancies, both of which ended in miscarriage.

After the second loss, we saw Columbia Fertility Associates, and after some tests, our endocrinologist said that Sarah had an uncommon chromosomal issue which affected processing of folate – but this is (happily) treated with prescription-strength vitamins, rather than requiring more invasive means. We just got her initial sets of blood work back, and they’re quite encouraging. Yay!

Of course, it would not be human to lack fear – and the anticipation of fear and loss can be every bit as bad as the loss itself. So what to do?

Perhaps I could throw myself on the will of my Creator, nullifying my dreams in the desire for serene acceptance of providential decree? Or perhaps I should erupt in thanks and praise, recognizing that it is the breath of God which quickens life in the womb, and that this miracle has touched us once more is eminently and immanently Divine. Or perhaps I should attempt to persuade, in the vein of the Patriarchs and Matriarchs – all of them prayed for their progeny, and most of their children were hard won.

But why pick one?

So for now, the bubbly, almost giddy expression I’ve been wearing this week is now explainable, and I’ll try to stay in the moment as much as possible.

Iacta alea est

I have been kicking this around for a while now, and have finally decided that I was done with cutting bait.  I wrote up a paper outlining my vision, have now submitted my name for consideration to become president of my synagogue.  I’d have to resign from the mikvah board, but the central things I had wanted to accomplish (more formal governance and improved website) have been done, so I can sleep contentedly there.

I’m certain that there will be a chorus of “sucker!” coming from many corners, but I have a hope that some of the things I care deeply about will get a lot more attention and focus.  We’ll see how it goes.

עת רצון

Yom Tov nusaḥ (words + melody of prayer) is one of my favorite synagogue things.  Leading shaḥarit (morning services) yesterday was more emotionally challenging for me than I had expected. The first paragraph of Hallel (psalm 113), concludes triumphantly with the following verse:

מושיבי עקרת הבית אם־הבנים שמחה הללו־יה

(He makes the childless housewife a happy mother of children).

This is, of course, the end of a psalm which is specifically talking about how God is great and glorious, but that he is immanent rather than distant.  This is the same vibe which permeates ps 147:3-4 as well -

הרפא לשבורי לב ומחבש לעצבותם׃

מונה מספר לכוכבים לכלם שמות יקרא׃

(He heals the broken-hearted, binding up their wounds:

He counts the number of the stars, calling them all by name)

The order of those is significant – we get a clue about God’s priorities, that caring for the grieving is more important than the entire physical universe.

But back to yesterday – I wasn’t ready for the emotional impact of that verse to really hit me in the moment, but it did.  All of a sudden, I had an overwhelming feeling of powerlessness and desperation – it hit me that only God’s decision will change the reality in which Sarah and I find ourselves.  And in that moment, I felt myself change from singing about God, to singing to God.

Intellectually, I know that requesting prayers aren’t supposed to be said on Shabbat or Yom Tov, but it’s a horse of a different color to actually step outside of that sort of moment.

Besides, if we were really that serious about not making requests, we wouldn’t include things like “And as for me, may my prayer come before you, Lord, in a favorable time – God, in Your great loving-kindness, answer me with Your saving truth.” (ps. 69:13).

Wearing craziness on the outside (part 2)

Sarah has an extremely limited diet.  She’s gluten and sugar free, among a whole bunch of other stuff,not the least of which is keeping strictly kosher, and therefore any additional restriction is a real challenge.  She normally eats a cereal which is largely flax and sorghum daily.

Pesaḥ is coming, and we wanted to see whether she could have that cereal, and while I was waiting to talk to RDBF, my pal M mentioned to me that the OU had said that sorghum was a problem as an ingredient in medicine.

Now, those things which are ḥametz are barley, rye, oats, spelt, and wheat.  Wheat, rye, and barley and spelt are subfamily pooideae (tribe triticeae), and oats are genus avena, while sorghum is subfamily panicoideae, genus sorghum.  The closest relative to sorghum which is even listed as kitniyot is maize (subfamily panicoideae, genus zea).

The order of taxonomical classifications is (in old-school terms): kingdom, phylum, class, order, family, genus, species.  There have been a few more additions – subfamily and tribe between family and genus, but the important thing is that genus is above species.  Humans are closer to chimpanzees (both subtribe hominina, chimpanzees are genus pan, while we’re genus homo) than sorghum is to the nearest (slightly) problematic maize – those aren’t even in the same subtribe.

So the OU is nuts for Pesaḥ this year – but should we be surprised?  As is said in Kohelet (Ecclesiastes) 1:9, ואין כל חדש תחת השמש (there is nothing new under the sun) – or in a more timely way of putting it, מה נשתנה, הלילה הזה מכל הלילות (What makes this night different from other nights?).

And for those following along about the actual question, RDBF’s answer was “yep, this is fine.”  This is something I love about Kesher Israel – sane p’sak.  I don’t think the value of that can be overstated, and I feel sorry for other communities which don’t have leadership which allows orthodox judaism to be practiced with common sense.

(crazy part one is here)

Pesaḥ without Insanity

Why do we do this whole kashrut thing anyway? 

Because we are what we eat. This is a public symbol of our embracing the idea that God’s will for us is more important than our own desires for this cheeseburger or that slice of pizza.

Disclaimer: this is a simplified summary, and should be viewed as the first word, not the last.  When there is a question, ask Rabbi Dr. Freundel, and he’ll give a specific answer.

What is the basic prohibition?

It is prohibited to eat, benefit from, or possess any ḥametz (“leaven”).  Ḥametz is Biblically defined as something which is (a) edible (b) larger than a kazayit (somewhere between a giant olive and a donut hole), and (c) contains flour of any of the five grains (barley, rye, oats, wheat, spelt) which has been allowed to contact water in one of several ways.  Because it’s a big deal, we put a LOT of fences around it.

I thought it was harder than that?  What are the fences?

1. Accidental ḥametz: in general, processed or prepared foods which are not inherently ḥametz (e.g. mashed potato mix) either require special supervision, or a determination that the normal supervision excludes ḥametz entirely (e.g. extra virgin olive oil).  The custom is to sell foods of this nature to avoid accidentally transgressing the rules of eating or owning ḥametz.

1. A subcategory of accidental ḥametz is non-food items which are made from ḥametz ingredients (eg. oatmeal soap).  These may fall into the category of being full ḥametz  if they are edible to eat at all, and if so, they couldn’t be owned, benefited-from, or eaten on Pesaḥ.  Even if they are not edible (and thus not ḥametz) there is a strong custom to sell items of this nature.

1. Kitniyot: according to mainstream Ashkenazi custom, it is not permitted to eat beans, corn, peanuts or rice.  It is permitted to own and/or benefit from kitniyot during Pesaḥ.  The prohibition is on *eating* only.  It’s customary (and a generally good idea) to put away (or sell) foods of this nature to avoid accidentally eating them.  However, if there’s a reason not to do so, that is completely legitimate – an example is dog food made from corn and rice is usable.  There are a LOT of leniencies here if there is a real need (e.g. infant formula, dietary problems/veganism, etc), so don’t be afraid to ask RDBF if you have a concern or a need.

1. Long-standing customary prohibitions: there are a few of this variety, mustard being the best example, which are now prohibited because at one time their preparation or storage involved ḥametz in some way.  Often these are lumped in with kitniyot, and there is a practical reason for that: the practical laws are quite similar.  However, it should be remembered that kitniyot are a fixed class – nothing more can be added to them, according to the universally-accepted opinion of the Ḥayei Adam (whose opinion is why potatoes are accepted).

1. Other prohibitions: many individuals have stringencies they personally take on regarding what they will or will not eat, or will or will not use.  Examples of these include garlic, quinoa, cumin, gebrokts (any mixture of matzah and water), kitniyot derivatives (i.e. paper products which contain corn starch), vinegar (because the hebrew term is ḥometz), and many more.  There isn’t a problem with these personal stringencies, other than that those stringencies should not be used to create divisions in the community.  The prohibition against creating divisions (Lo titgodidu) is Biblical, and overweighs any personal stringency about foodstuffs.

What things are always kosher without requiring supervision on Pesaḥ?

Fresh fruit & vegetables (other than kitniot), frozen fruit & vegetables (pure), extra virgin olive oil, eggs, milk (when purchased before Pesaḥ).

Do things that aren’t food require supervision on Pesaḥ?

Not normally. Soap, for instance, is not food (except see fence #2 above).  Aluminum foil is not food. Laundry detergent is not food. None of those require supervision.

What are some things which DO require special supervision on Pesaḥ?

Salt, sugar, milk (when purchased during Pesaḥ)

What about countertops?

There is a long-standing custom to cover one’s countertops.  This custom is completely independent of the concept of “kashering countertops” – whether you do or do not hold that “kashering countertops” is either possible or necessary, they should be covered for the duration of Pesaḥ.

If you’re in a rental apartment and don’t expect to be there next year, aluminum foil + duct tape works like a champ (although blue painter’s tape gunks up the countertops less).  Better, however, is getting some plastic sheeting and cutting it to size – this can be used for multiple years.  By happenstance, Kuglers (www.kuglers.com 240.247.0271) is selling rolls of flexible, durable plastic quite inexpensively ($13-$26)this year.  I got 1/4” plexiglass from Home Depot and cut it to size years ago, and it serves quite well.

What is this selling thing?

Ideally nothing should be sold.  However, because there are valuable items which are acquired over longer timeframes than one year (e.g. whiskey), it is permitted to

Those items which are either (a) valuable ḥametz (e.g. whiskey, not cereal) or (b) could possibly contain ḥametz (e.g. regular spices), regardless of value, or (c) the ḥametz which was absorbed in one’s regular year-round dishes (but not the dishes themselves) should be placed in a specific designated area and then sold to to a gentile for the course of the holiday.  This process is complex, and really requires rabbinic supervision – come to any weekday service from now until erev Pesaḥ and either RDBF or one of his designees will walk you through the process.  This is an actual sale.  That means that once you’ve sold the food located in a specific place to the gentile, it’s prohibited to get into it – removing something would be theft.  Thus, don’t do the selling until you know where the ḥametz is.

NOTE: ONLY PHYSICAL OBJECTS SHOULD BE SOLD.  There are occasionally suggestions of selling things which are non-tangible (e.g. stock in restaurants which deal in ḥametz  products).  Securities are not edible, but even if they were, sale of them is a taxable event!  Conditional sales of securities are known as “options,” and are also taxable events, even if the conditions are not met, so don’t do this.

What dishes and utensils can be kashered for Pesaḥ?

• Entirely metal utensils – kasherable
• Entirely glass utensils – kasherable
• Charcoal Grill – kasherable
• Wood – often kasherable, but ask a Rabbi
• Knives or other things which are part metal part other – often, ask a Rabbi.
• Ceramics (including china and pyrex) – ask a Rabbi
• Plastic – doubtful, ask RDBF
• Urn – doubtful, ask RDBF
• Coffeepot – doubtful, ask RDBF
• Frying pans (or others which are directly on flame) – no
• K’deira blech – no.
• Dishwashers – no.
• Toasters – no
• Toaster ovens – no
• Sodastream carbonator – usable (but requires dedicated Pesaḥ bottles).

Is it a good idea to kasher dishes for Pesaḥ?  

Not if you can help it.  In general, it is a lot cheaper and saner to simply buy a small place setting or the like, and then keep them year-to-year.

–> This is true even if you go to family for Sedarim: you’ll likely need to be at home for Ḥol hamoëd next year anyway.  <–

Where is the “Judaism with common sense” that you mentioned?

Remember: dirt is not ḥametz.  Once something ceases to be recognizable as food, it ceases to be recognizable as ḥametz either.  So while it’s a good thing to remove the crud from under the refrigerator, or to clean off one’s blinds, that’s not the essence of Pesaḥ preparation: those are spring cleaning.

How to Kasher a kitchen

In general terms, the order of kashering is “clean, wait 24 hours, kasher”

Step 0:

Get rid of stuff which isn’t kosher, and get the supplies needed to do the cleaning and koshering in the following steps (cleaning supplies, gloves, tongs, a big pot to kasher other dishes, etc). <– This might sound obvious, but it’s essential.  Anything which is to be sold to the gentile should be in some designated area which is (a) labeled and (b) closed with something so that it won’t be gotten into.

Step 1:

Clean your fridge. You don’t actually need to kasher the fridge – it is by definition cold contact, so all you need to do is clean well with damp cloths. If you use chemicals, make sure to damp-rinse well, because you don’t want to eat them.  Stains are not ḥametz!  

Step 2:

Clean the oven. If you’ve got a self-cleaning model, you’re in luck. If not, then clean well with ez-off or something like it. USE GLOVES – those chemicals are exceptionally bad for you, so open windows and try not to get any on you – it’s like a cross between litigation and nuclear power. If the oven self-cleans, you probably need to take the racks out first (two reasons – first, they discolor, and second, they can expand in the heat and damage the oven).

Step 3:

Clean the stove. I’ve found barkeeper’s friend to be very effective at cleaning metal-surface stoves.

Step 4:

Clean the microwave – the trick here is that cleaning the microwave is exactly the same procedure as koshering it, so you’ll end up repeating this. See below for the details.

Step 5:

Clean the countertops. Feel free to use chemicals, but rinse them well, because you don’t want to eat them.

Step 6:

Clean the sink very well. If it’s a metal sink, you’ll be able to kasher it, if it’s ceramic, it won’t be kasherable. When you’re done with this, note the time. Put a piece of tape or something across the sink so that you don’t use it accidentally.

Step 7:

Sweep the floor.

Wait until 24 hours have passed from the time noted in step 6. One good way to do this is either to start kashering on Friday and let it lie over Shabbat.  Another good way is to visit friends for a day or two. The hardest thing to avoid using is generally the sink, thus the tape mentioned in step 6.

Step 8:

Kashertime! First, the oven: with the racks IN, bring the oven up to its hottest temperature (generally 550 F) for about 2 hours (i.e. let it get to 550, and then wait two hours – this will take about 2.5-3 hours or so total). Put the burners on full for one hour. Sanity tip: do at most two at a time, so that the room doesn’t get too hot. Another tip: open a window so you don’t suffocate.

Step 9:

After step 8 has finished, if you have a metal sink, boil a VERY large pot full of water (this will take a while). When the pot is at a rolling boil, pour the water into the sink, making sure to get it all over the sides – you want to heat up the whole thing at the same time. WEAR GLOVES: boiling water is dangerous and really sucks if you get it on you. After you’re done with this step, if you’re going to be kashering any utensils or dishes, boil another pot of water.

Step 10:

Kasher your microwave. The process here is to take a pyrex cup (or something else which is both microwave and boiling-water safe) with a bunch of water in it, and boil the heck out of it. Generally microwaving for ~7 minutes on high will fill the thing with steam (which is what you want). Wipe the inside of the microwave out with a cloth, refill the pyrex, move it on the tray, and repeat.

Step 11:

Kasher your stuff – those items which are kasherable should be immersed in a pot of water at a rolling boil. USE TONGS.

Step 12:

Relax with a brandy (or other kosher-for-passover beverage)

Things you need to get ahead of time (perhaps during the 24 hours?):
2 sink racks & 2 drying racks (different colors!)
3 scrubbies – the kosher stores sell some which are labeled “meat/pareve/dairy” but color coding works well. Generally, blue = dairy, red= meat, and either green or yellow=pareve. Sponges are good too, but can’t be used on shabbat, thus the scrubbies.

Preparing food on Shabbat or Yom Tov

Guiding principle: as God rested from His acts of creation on the seventh day, so too do we rest from our creative acts, and thereby show our partnership with Him in this world.

All of the various prohibitions on work on Shabbat, Yom Tov, or Ḥol hamoëd are derived from the activities performed by the Israëlites as they built the portable sanctuary (mishkan) in the desert. Many of the activities which are therefore classed as “work” are not relevant to the preparation of food (e.g. “weaving”), but there are several types of activity which are relevant. Shabbat is more stringent than Yom Tov, and there are no relevant food preparation prohibitions on Ḥol hamoëd.

General issues: 

• Don’t fresh-grind pepper.
• Don’t squeeze lemon into water or tea (but you can squeeze lemon onto sugar which you put into tea).
• Don’t use regular sponges in washing dishes – use non-absorbent scrubbies instead.
• Food packages can be opened even if this involves tearing through printed letters. In the case of cans, the can should be fully emptied and discarded – this is due to concern about creating a new kli (vessel).
• Don’t use slotted spoons.
• Don’t carefully measure things
• Disable the light in the refrigerator – either tape the contact, or unscrew the bulb so that it does not automatically turn on when the door is opened. If there’s a light in the oven, it should either be always on or always off – make sure it isn’t activated by the door.

Shabbat dinner:

• The stove/oven can’t be adjusted once shabbat comes in, either directly or indirectly.
• A timer can turn an over/stove off, but not on.
• If soup is left on a burner which is on, the soup may not be stirred while it’s on the burner. Once you take it off the burner, don’t put it back on.
• Note the status of the food when shabbat comes in: if it’s already hot, then this food can cool and reheat. If not, then it may not be directly reheated (unless using a k’deira blech). <– This applies to solid food only – liquids may not be reheated according to Ashkenazi custom.
• If food is in a hot oven, once you open the door, you need to take everything out: it isn’t okay to completely close a hot oven with food in it on shabbat. <– This applies to “warming drawers” and “warming ovens” also. This is based on the concept of “insulating” (hatmana).

Shabbat Lunch:

• Liquids may not be reheated according to Ashkenazi custom. For Sefardi custom, ask a rabbi.
• If a regular blech is used, all solid food to be reheated must have been hot when shabbat came in. If a k’deirach blech (steam tray) is used, food need not have been hot when shabbat came in.
• A crock pot (or the like) may not be stirred or adjusted while the crock is on the heat source. Remove the crock from the heat source, and then you’re free to do whatever you need to it, but you can’t then put it back on the heat source.
• As above, ovens should not be used for reheating. There are some authorities who permit this, but it is discouraged, and if you intend to do this, consult a rabbi.
• Food which is going to cook over shabbat should be 1/3 cooked before shabbat comes in, although there is a leniency if the dish includes meat.

Yom Tov: 

• All of the non-cooking prohibitions of shabbat continue to be observed (separating, squeezing, etc)
• You (generally) can’t cook on day 1 for a meal on day 2. This is most relevant on the afternoon of day 1.  However, in 5771, the 7th day of Pesaḥ is Friday, which means that an eruv tavshillin is required, and that specifically allows this.

Most of the yom tov complexity involves manipulating the temperature of a stove or an oven.

Gas stove: you can turn an existing flame up at any time, and turn it down if there’s food on it.  You can put food on a burner for the purpose of turning it down.

If you have a true pilot light, you can turn the stove on (from the existing flame); if you have an electric starter, you can’t. In either case, a gas stove cannot be turned all the way off.

Electric stove: if the controls are digital or quantum (discrete settings), they can’t be adjusted. If they’re continuous (smooth), then treat as a gas stove.

Halogen stove: ask a rabbi, and good luck.  Avoid buying one of these if you can help it – they’re also problematic to kasher, and generally don’t work with a blech.

Ovens have thermostats; you can turn an oven up when it’s already on, and down when it’s off.  Most ovens have some kind of indication about when they’re cycling on and off.

Microwave ovens can’t be used on yom tov.

Charcoal Grill: light it from a pre-existing flame, and it will put itself out.

I sit at my table, and wage war on myself

Sarah and I learned on last week that we were having our second miscarriage in seven months. In both cases, there was nascent life that simply stopped progressing – the sonogram view of the empty amniotic sac made my heart fall. The first time this happened, I held out tremendous hope for a miracle – that by some means the physicians had miscalculated the growth rate – that the foetal pole would blossom into the child we’ve wanted so much. That didn’t go well. This time, there was no pole at all – a yolk sac, but no indication of progressive sustained life.

And so turbulent emotions overtake me – in the non-deterministic manner of all turbulence, I find myself unpredictably swung from feeling to feeling, holding on to the relative stability of my workplace – a few know, most don’t, but it’s immersive enough that I can live in routers and switches for a few hours, seeking solace in the shared commiseration over frustrating policies or losing myself in problems there. You see, those problems can be solved.

When I was in college, I remember thinking that I did not want to have children. I believed the zero-population-growth people, and embraced the misanthropic view that the presence of humans was the problem with the world, rather than the purpose of it. I also remember thinking that I would be too much of a screwup to raise children, and that I should “not wade in the gene pool”, as was said by a person I know whose family has chosen to be childless (maybe they say “child-free” – I don’t know).

I do know that somewhere in the dating process with Sarah, I had the epiphany that I really, really wanted to have children with her. I was ready and eager before Sarah was, and when she became open to the idea, her severe health problems were in full bloom, rendering the idea moot.

For a long time, I believed that the likelihood this we would have children was low, and tried to get okay with that. I served as gabbai (sexton) for many years, and one of the things I really looked forward to was that the gabbai is the one who gets to publicly name all of the daughters born in the community. I grabbed onto that with both hands, and my eyes would get teary each time I said it. Seeing all of the britot (circumcisions) of the boys, likewise I would get teary. It was a solitary kind of hurt – no one asked about it, and I didn’t volunteer anything. I didn’t want to make any of my internal struggle public. I read the book of tehillim (psalms) several times asking that God either grant my prayer or remove the longing, and I eventually found a stable sort of peace about it. Part of that stability included thinking that this was a Divine decree – that the sins of my past life had been those which merited karet v’ariri (excision & childlessness). That self-flagellating approach was pretty seductive – conversations with RDBF, who indicated that there was not the slightest rationale for believing this, and describing my thoughts as theologically problematic did not shake the allure of seeing this denial as a form of intentional punishment from God.

A few years ago, the possibility started getting a little more real: Sarah’s health had been improving, and that dovetailed with her increasing desire. Since then, I’ve let myself get extremely eager and can really feel the pull. I’ve been much more in touch with the desire to be a child’s jungle gym, and to do all of the quotidian tasks of parenthood – pick up sick kid from kindergarden? Sure! Order diapers by the pallet? Absolutely! And so it came to be that 2011 was the year we expected to start trying in earnest.

And now this.

My mouth tastes like ashes. The Biblical image of seeing something wonderful and having it denied you is Moses looking out over the promised land, after he has been told that he will not live to enter it. I can imagine how he felt.

Some thoughts dominate me:

The essence of the tziduk ha-din (acceptance of Divine judgement, said at funerals) is Job 1:21: יהוה נתן ויהוה לקח יהי שם יהוה מברך… (…the LORD has given, and the LORD has taken away; Blessed is the name of the LORD.

Here, my prayers are for acceptance, for understanding of God’s will. After all, where was I when God put the world on its foundation? Though I don’t understand the Divine plan, that doesn’t mean that there isn’t a good reason for it, and maybe I was right before about what I deserve.

But then there’s the rest of me – less serene, and more angry. This is the part of me that wants to “rage against the dying of the light”, to call God down from His heaven and hold Him accountable for what He has done. Every day, we paraphrase Isaiah 45:7:

 יוצר אור ובורא חשך עשה שלום ובורא רע אני יהוה עשה כל־אלה – [God] forms light and “creates” darkness, makes wholeness and “creates” evil; I am the LORD who makes all of these.

The verb בורא boreh (“creates”) is exclusive to God: it refers to creation ex nihilo, and implies that neither darkness nor evil would exist in this world were it not for God’s conscious decision and creation. Shall not the Judge of all Earth do justly, indeed.

I’m left with some pointed questions for my Maker – while I’m not eager to meet Him, I do want some answers about why the world is set up this way.

I waited to publish this so that I could calm down a bit. It helped some. Most of the people I’ve spoken to have been sympathetic, and a bunch of friends took care of us – it’s a measure of comfort to have friends, and it’s greatly appreciated. But it still hurts, and I still want the answer to my prayers to be different.

Next (Time I) Fall

Sarah and I went to see Geoffrey Nauffts’ Next Fall in Bethesda last week. The theme of the play is the clash of religious differences in a relationship. The specific case is a gay couple, one of whom is a young, idealistic, religious Christian, while the other is older, anti-religious, and extremely cynical.

Sarah had picked the show, so I knew a grand total of nothing about it before we arrived. When she told me the theme when we arrived, my heart sank a bit: Washington is an extremely secular area, and religion tends to be dealt with as an extremely harsh caricature is most of the modern theatre i’ve seen. Add to that the fact that it’s a gay couple, and I figured we were in for a few hours of beating up on religious strawmen.

Happily, my expectations were not met.

There are some of the same old tired arguments for and against Christianity were dredged up (in my opinion, the anti-arguments were a lot more tired), but viewed in the context of character development, they make sense. Of course they would have had some fights where those tired arguments were used – neither of their characters is supposed to be exceptional at argument, after all. The real center of the play was not the argument regarding who’s right: it was about the emotional conflict that their difference caused.

Nauffts did a masterful job holding this up from several perspectives – there were plenty of pointed anti-religious sentiments – but the thing that blew out my expectations was that he acknowledged the tremendous anti-religious bias which is rampant and endemic in some places. It’s fascinating see religion being treated as much of (or possibly more than) a “closet” issue than sexuality – and I certainly think that this reflects modern experience and sensibilities (in DC at least).

I was pleasantly surprised, and would give this play a strong recommendation. Definitely good work from the Round House.

Dynamic Tension

Freefall captures precisely a tension I experience – when the question was asked of RDBF “could Commander Data convert to Judaism?” his answer was “yes, assuming that he could (a) survive immersion in a mikvah, and (b) understand kabbalat ol mitzvot” (acceptance of the yoke of the commandments). So in that way, the current guidance is that traditional Jewish thought would place a greater differentiation between man and woman than between human and non-human. Hm.

Something doesn’t quite fit right here – and yet there is certainly truth to the idea that the sexes are qualitatively different. No matter how much a man could want it, he can never give birth. Unsurprisingly, this leads to differences in physiological structure which appears to give rise to differences in thinking patterns and aptitudes, which leads the difference between the perspectives of men and women to routinely be the subject of oodles of comedians. So this certainly seems like a real and valuable difference – I’m extremely glad that Sarah thinks differently than I do, and there have been lots of times that one of us has been able to bail out the other from some problem which looked insurmountable.

The rejoinder to the argument is that the differences between individuals are greater than the differences between the averages – i.e. that two men can be further apart on whatever measurement than the average man and the average woman. I buy that too. But if the differences between the averages weren’t a useful or widely-observed phenomenon, comedians wouldn’t get much mileage out of it.

I think my favorite split-the-baby proposition is that of Rabbi Roth, the Conservative thinker who had the idea that women were not automatically obligated in all of the mitzvot, but could accept upon themselves the obligation and burden, and at that point could serve in any ritual capacity. The problem is that in practice, vanishingly few people actually follow R’ Roth’s position. so I think it falls into the category of “idea that is widely ignored.”

So I’m not sure where I am here, and there’s a big dialectic (hehe) clash. Fortunately I’m not in a hurry.

On the tip of my tongue

Kesher Israel had their “social shabbat” yesterday, and we were treated to a couple of people we knew and several we didn’t. It was an enjoyable affair, and the conversation lasted until after minha time (!)

One of the treats was getting introduced to a new wine: Le Moure De L’Isle Rouge 2009 – fabulous, and has a delightfully complicated character.

Interestingly, there was universal agreement among those who regularly attend KI (6 of us) that tefillah (prayer services) is entirely too fast: one attendee said “with my yeshiva education, there is no chance for me to come close to reading the prayers at the speed the congregation says them.” I’ve noticed that when I bring this up, most folks seem to agree – I’ve only had about two people say that they liked the speed or that it should be faster. I’d put my knowledge of Hebrew prayer up against those two any day – it’s the people who know oodles more than me who say they can’t keep up. One suggestion that was raised was to basically start timing a couple of the critical parts of the service (sh’ma, silent amidah) – I think this is a fabulous idea, and could really take some of the personality out of the issue. I say “personality” because some of the congregants are more of the “force of nature” types rather than the go-along-get-along types, and if the change could be less about individuals and more about improving the ability of the average person to keep up, that would work better. Another suggestion was to revisit the stuff the kids lead (aleinu, ein k’elokeinu, shir shel shabbat, etc) and get them to quit doing the “stand there for some small number of seconds, and then say the last line” thing. Honestly, they “read” hebrew faster than I can read English – and I am a quick reader.

Another issue which was brought up was that several of the attendees had attempted to join the synagogue, and no one had reached out to help them get the process finished (!), and others hadn’t ever had anyone explain why they should join. Those aren’t visitors – they had all been in the community for more than a year – so I look at that as a significant gap in the approach currently taken.

Hopefully I’ll get some traction agitating for change in these types of matters…

Of course, the things I like far outweigh the things I don’t – yesterday I was in a conversation with pair of folks at kiddush (social “hour”) which discussed the chemical process by which baking soda and baking powder worked, and we were all using our almost-remembered freshman chemistry to try to deduce the reaction. Avidan was the one with the answer, and that was pretty cool.