Yes, New York, Women Can Be Rabbis - The Jewish Week Connecting the World to Jewish News, Culture, Features, and Opnions for Friday, 6 November 2015

Yes, New York, Women Can Be Rabbis - The Jewish Week Connecting the World to Jewish News, Culture, Features, and Opnions for Friday, 6 November 2015
Friday, November 6, 2015
Dear Reader,
By now several women, in the United States and in Israel, have been ordained rabbis in the Orthodox world. Traditional groups are responding by issuing protests, but Rabbi Avi Weiss, who was the first to ordain a woman, insists that doing so doesn't mean going against tradition.
Opinion
Women Can Be Rabbis, In Keeping With Tradition
It is a mistake to think that mesorah only means that everything we do today is cemented in the past.
Rabbi Avi Weiss
Special To The Jewish Week

Rabbi Avi Weiss
The Rabbinical Council of America (RCA) this past week resolved that its members “may not ordain women into the Orthodox rabbinate.” The resolution reasserts the RCA’s position of 2013 that ordaining women represents a “violation of our mesorah,” or tradition.
Mesorah is commonly associated with the transmission of Torah. For some, it is a meta-halachic concept: Regardless of what the halacha (Jewish law) says, there is a past tradition that must not be broken.
Of course, past tradition and consideration of time-honored practices are of tremendous import, as the Torah states, “Ask your father and he shall tell you; your grandfather and he shall say to you” [Deuteronomy 32:7].
But that’s only half of the equation. It is a mistake to think that mesorah only means that everything we do today is cemented in the past. Rather mesorah conveys the idea that, within proper parameters, we should innovate to address the issues of our time. This innovation is not straying from mesorah; it is rather demanded by it.
Religious innovation involves two steps. The first is to assess a particular law and evaluate whether it conflicts with other central principles of Torah. Consider, for example, the Torah’s position on polygamy, slavery or the laws of a female war captive. These laws seemingly conflict with other Torah values like tzelem Elohim (that every human being is created in the image of God), kavod ha-bryiot (human dignity), and kedoshim ti’hiyu (and you shall be holy).
If conflict exists, mesorah demands we take a second step through which halacha can evolve. The Torah makes this very point when declaring that the perplexing issues of the day should be brought before the generation’s judges [Deut: 17:8-9]. Beyond Torah law, mesorah includes a sophisticated network of rabbinic law. After an extensive, in-depth analysis of the legal issue at hand, new applications may be possible.
When making this analysis it is important to recall the teaching of Rabbi Abraham Isaac Kook, the first chief rabbi of then-Palestine, that “there is no prohibition to permit the permissible, even though it was not practiced in the past.”
This understanding of mesorah emerges when assessing women and halacha. There was a time when a husband could unilaterally divorce his wife; there was a time when most women did not study Torah; there was a time when the very same Rabbi Kook argued that women should not have the right to vote. And, in the not so distant past, women were shut out of life cycle events: no simchat bat for an infant girl; no bat mitzvah; no role for women to take part in a wedding ceremony.
If mesorah only encompassed the notion that “what was must continue to be,” these practices would still be in place. Yet today, the reverse is true. In the 11th century, Rabbenu Gershom decreed that no divorce (get) can be given against a wife’s free will. In the 20th century, the Chofetz Chaim insisted that women should study Torah, and 50 years later Rabbi Joseph B. Soloveitchik led the march to have women study the Oral Law — the Talmud itself. In modern-day Israel, the Religious Zionist rabbinate supports the right of women to vote. I have little doubt that were Rabbi Kook now alive, he would support this right as well. And today, a simchat bat, bat mitzvah, and women reading the ketubah or sharing words of Torah under the chuppah are commonplace in Modern Orthodoxy.
Our community is now dealing with the question of whether women can be spiritual leaders; and, more specifically, can they be ordained? The stakes of this question are high as countless disenfranchised and alienated Jews are searching for a vibrant and inspiring Judaism. We thus desperately need committed, caring spiritual leaders who can teach and touch these myriads of souls. And, it would be senseless and counterproductive to tap only 50 percent of our community to assume leadership roles.
The halachic system unequivocally proclaims that women can be spiritual leaders. Biblical personalities like Sarah, Miriam, Devorah and Esther served as supreme religious leaders. In our century, Sarah Schenirer founded the Bais Yaakov school network in Poland. More recently, Chaya Mushka Schneerson, wife of the Lubavitcher rebbe, served as religious mentor to countless Lubavitcher women.
Today, charedi women lead their schools; a woman heads the SAR High School Talmud department; women serve as presidents of Modern Orthodox synagogues; and women are serving as full-time clergy members in Orthodox synagogues across the country.
And women can be ordained. Ordination does not date back to Sinai. That line was broken in the time of Hillel the Second in 360 CE. Rather, as the Rema codifies, “ordination (semichut) today certifies that one has the ability to be a decisor of Jewish law … with the permission of one’s teacher” (Yoreh De’ah 242:14). This means that ordination today signals that a person has mastered a particular area of halacha and can be a decisor of law. In contemporary times, Rabbi Bakshi-Doron, the former Sephardic chief rabbi of Israel, writes that “women can be the gedolim [the greats] of the generation and serve as halachic decisors” (Responsa Binyan Av 65:5).
Today, the debate concerning women’s ordination is not halachic but rather sociological. Here, I believe, the Orthodox community is split. While those on the Orthodox right say we are not ready, others in the more open camp disagree.
Our mesorah does not reject the idea of women’s ordination. Quite the contrary, the mesorah, while rooted in the past, emanates light into the future.
Why, for many, is women’s learning, Zionism and secular studies compatible with the mesorah, while the ordination of women is not? What does it say about our community when a central unchanging value of our mesorah is the exclusion of women from religious leadership?
The time has come to breathe life into the words of Rabbi Kook: “The old will become new, and the new will become holy.” With humility and respect for our detractors: with deep feelings of love for God and Israel, with conviction and proud commitment to mesorah, we declare: ki va mo’ed — the time has come.
Rabbi Avi Weiss is founding rabbi of the Hebrew Institute of Riverdale – the Bayit, and founder of Yeshivat Chovevei Torah and Yeshivat Maharat. He is also the co-founder of the International Rabbinic Fellowship.Another prominent rabbi is in the news this week; Marcelo Bronstein of supershul BJ is moving onto the next phase of his life as a teacher. He will move with his wife to Costa Rica and focus on seeking mindfulness with his students.
The JW Q&A
BJ Rabbi’s Next Move: Finding That ‘Still, Small Voice’
Rabbi Marcelo Bronstein plans to work as a mindfulness teacher based mostly in Costa Rica.
Sandee Brawarsky

Rabbi Marcelo Bronstein: To lead mindfulness retreats in Costa Rica.
Rabbi Marcelo Bronstein announced recently that he will be stepping down from his full-time position at Congregation B’nai Jeshurun as of June 2017. While he will continue to serve part-time at BJ for three years after that, he plans to work as a mindfulness teacher, based mostly in Costa Rica. He’ll return to New York monthly and for the High Holidays.
Born in Argentina, Rabbi Bronstein, 61, and his wife Karina Zilberman have built a house in La Ecovilla, Costa Rica, in the mountains between San Jose and the Pacific. Rabbi Bronstein, also a clinical psychologist, plans to continue to lead mindfulness retreats in the Costa Rican countryside, as well as practice spiritual coaching and pastoral counseling via Internet platforms. He also plans to spend more time in Israel. This isn’t retirement,” he says. “I want to dedicate the rest of my rabbinate to help people go deeper into their souls, to find their own meaningful connection with the tradition.”
Q: How do you explain mindfulness most simply?
A: In the Unetaneh Tokef prayer we say on the High Holidays we speak of a “still, small voice” of God. Mindfulness is about finding the small still voice of the soul that we barely hear.
It doesn’t mean you can’t be thinking about the future. It’s about being aware. These days, we are constantly multitasking and being fragmented. We are on the phone, walking and texting, always with the anxiety that we are missing something more important than what is in front of us. The culture we live in is generating anxious people who are completely disconnected. We pay a price for that.
How did you become interested in mindfulness and meditation?
This is a long journey in my life. I started with meditation some 25 years ago. I began studying with a quantum physicist in Chile. The teacher I was able to become is completely related to my experiences — I studied in the chasidic world, participated in the Presencing Institute at MIT, went trekking in the mountains of Nepal, did a vision quest with Native Americans, exposed myself to the experience of mindfulness and nature. Something inside of me is constantly seeking.
I’ve been involved in institutional Jewish life since I was 19. For 10 years I was youth director of Communidad Bet El in Buenos Aires [the synagogue led by the late Rabbi Marshall Meyer, who later served at BJ] and was involved with Camp Ramah in Argentina for many years, the last two as director. I attended rabbinical school at Hebrew Union College in New York and then led a congregation in Chile for six years.
When I came back to New York in 1995 to take on a pulpit at BJ, I also began working with Rabbi Rachel Cowan, who shares my passion for this; we have been teaching together and leading meditation and mindfulness retreats and prayer services for BJ.
How do you teach mindfulness?
This has to be done through experience, not through a book. You have to be able to experience what happens to you when you are not multitasking, when you are paying attention — what happens to your blood pressure, to your body, to your being present. This has been studied scientifically — how stress can be reduced. Once you experience it, you think, how come I am living without it? We have the capacity to access the gardens of Eden that live inside of us.
What’s Jewish about this?
Look at all these books. [He points to his desk, where books by Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel and others on prayer, Kabbalah and meditation are spread out, as he is preparing a course]. Mindfulness is a new word. My word is kavvanah. Chasidim Rishonim, the early Pious Ones, used to stand still for an hour before saying the Shema. “For you the silence I praise,” the psalmist says. There’s a whole tradition of silence in Jewish mysticism.
I’ve never done anything Buddhist. I came to this through stress reduction, Jewish chanting and chasidut. Rabbi Heschel has been always my inspiration. Prayer matters, prayer is of consequence, prayer is transformative. In the retreats I aspire to achieve a balance between personal transformation, joy, movement, nature walks and bearing witness to social action projects.
I would like to show many Jews who are going to Eastern traditions that there is a wealth in the Jewish tradition that could uplift their world. I want to tell them, Come home. I would like to connect them with what they don’t know that they already have.
I have a calling: that I feel I have to do things in my life. It’s very Jewish.
How is mindfulness prayer different from other Jewish prayer?
Mindfulness prayer is less fixed prayer, more personal. You don’t have to rush. Jewish prayer is a balance between keva, what is fixed, and kavannah, intention. When doing mindfulness prayer, keva is negotiable, kavannah is not. You may cover fewer prayers, but you go deeper and deeper, to your heart and your soul.
What are some of the highlights of your 20 years at BJ?
BJ is a hub of creativity, a laboratory of Jewish possibility where ideas like this can be nurtured. It’s my spiritual home. By far, the highlight was to work with my best friend, Roly [Rabbi J. Rolando Matalon]. We grew up together in Buenos Aires. Not many people have the opportunity to work with their best friend. We learn from each other, have powerful and deep conversations. Marshall was my teacher and Roly’s. We are two disciples continuing the work, reshaping it.
editor@Jewishweek.org

On a lighter note: "Totes Koshe." That's one of the slogans on a line of trendy t-shirts being produced by two snarky Jewesses out in L.A.
National
Mixing Moxy and Matzah Balls, Meet Unkosher Market's T-Shirt Line
Now you can "Schvitz It Out" in style.
Jeremy Uliss
Editorial Intern

Unkosher Market's T-Shirt range mixes Jewish expressions with memes. Courtesy of Neph and Becky Trejo
If body language is how most people judge us, what we wear is an essential statement we make before we can even open our mouths.
Enter Unkosher Market, a new fashion line that features moxy memes with classic Yiddish-isms on white tees, arguably the perfect Chanukah gift for any sassy sister.
The line offers Jews and lovers of the tribe’s vibe a cute and clever new way to make a fashion statement that is, as their website says, “100% cotton and 100% chutzpah.”
Even non-Jews will appreciate tongue-in-cheek slogans like “Kiss my Tuchis,” “Schvitz It Out,” and “Matzvah Ballin’.” For the more…adventurous girls out there is the shirt reading “You Little Horah.”

It all started with a conversion. Shiran Teitelbaum and Alice Blastorah, who are friends and have backgrounds in advertising (both reportedly won medals at the 2014 Cannes Lions advertising competition) made a special event for their friend’s conversion to Judaism and brought custom-made t-shirts as party favors.
The reaction was instant, and awesome, they told The Jewish Week. Alice and Shiran’s friends loved the shirts. Instagram pictures from the event sparked more interest. After experimenting with selling more shirts on the entrepreneur-friendly Etsy.com and making several dozen sales, the girls knew they had shown, and sewn, the world something special.
Popsugar predicts that Unkosher Market will make for a sweet buy this holiday season.
What's next on the agenda for Unkosher Market? "We've had dozens of emails about a men's line—so that's next on the agenda. And we're hoping to make baby tanks with tude right after. Who doesn't want a wee shirt that says 'Kiss My Tuchis' or 'Snip, Snip, Horay' as a bris gift." Teitelbaum said.
Shabbat Shalom,

Helen Chernikoff
Web Director
THE ARTS

Archie Rand_ an artist who has a book coming out with a painting for each of the 613 Jewish commandments. JTA
NY Artist Archie Rand Takes On Torah's 613 Commandments
David Van Biema
RNS
A new book by a trailblazing artist raises an old question: Is there such a thing as truly Jewish art? And its corollary: If so, would anyone buy it?
On Nov. 10, Penguin Random House’s Blue Rider Press will release a 1-pound high-gloss volume titled “The 613.” It consists of 613 full-page, screamingly colored paintings by New York artist Archie Rand.
Each features one of the 613 Jewish commandments (or mitzvot), distilled by the 12th-century scholar Maimonides from the Torah.
The mitzvot are a bedrock feature in Judaism’s patrimony. Rand’s images, in a style that might be called Leviticus meets “Amazing Stories,” the ultra-pulp mid-20th-century comic series, incorporate each commandment’s Hebrew number. Captions standing in for museum wall labels provide English text.
The first image, “To Know There Is a God,” depicts a blue-clad astronaut floating upended against a background of chartreuse mountains and a hot-pink alien moon.
The $45 book boasts a murderer’s row of testimonials.
“Conceptual and retinal, altar and push-cart, lox and bagels,” raves “Maus” creator Art Spiegelman. “In the beginning was the word, and the word was ‘Wow!’”
He is joined by novelist Cynthia Ozick, Pulitzer-winning poet John Ashbery, filmmaker Ang Lee and a dozen more luminaries. On Nov. 18, Rand will field questions from Camille Paglia at the New York Public Library.
It almost makes you forget just how unlikely the book is, and how hard Rand, 66, has labored in a tradition — painterly engagement with the central texts of Judaism — that almost doesn’t exist.
Western art developed largely out of the soil of 1,500 years of Christian religious art.
In that period, beyond the decorative ritual objects, there was almost no Jewish art. One reason was the Second Commandment, often rendered, “Thou shalt not create graven images.” Although the wording leaves room for interpretation, it paralyzed art by believers for centuries.
Even today the ghost of the inhibition, combined with assimilation and art market ambivalence, exerts a chilling effect. Artists who are Jewish abound; artists whose work seriously engages Jewishness (such as Marc Chagall and R.B. Kitaj) are few.
Museum-quality artists consistently addressing the faith’s beating textual heart are a small band, Rand foremost among them — claiming back “the conversation from which we have been rebuffed and that we ourselves have rejected.”
Rand did not start out a Jewish painter. Although he attended childhood Hebrew school in Brooklyn, he cracked the gallery scene — at age 16 — in 1966 as, he says, a “mascot” of color field painting, New York abstractionism’s last wave. The New York Times lauded his “impressive debut.”

But his career swerved in 1973 when he received a commission to paint a mural of the interior of the B’nai Yosef, a synagogue on Brooklyn’s Ocean Parkway.
Suddenly solvent, Rand began mining the Bible, Talmud and Judaism’s vast commentary for a visual vocabulary. But he ran afoul of two groups: abstract painters scandalized not only by figurative painting but religious painting, and Orthodox Jews who regarded the exact same things as idolatrous.
His backers boldly set the core question — could Jews do art? — before Rabbi Moshe Feinstein, then American Orthodoxy’s foremost legal scholar. The rationale for Feinstein’s positive oral ruling eventually appeared in a posthumously published book: Not only could Jews make art for “the honor of (God),” but those failing to employ their gift “will be called to account.”
Rand thinks the completed synagogue, all 13,000 square feet of it, is the first thematically illustrated synagogue in 1,800 years.
He imported his new subject matter into his secular work. He painted the cycle of 54 annual Torah lectionary readings; the 18 blessings of the Amidah prayer; the 60 manifestations of truth. His style was highly accessible but always included irreducibly Jewish particulars, often the Hebrew text.
“I don’t want to make paintings that were about Jewishness, but that are Jewish,” he said.
Aficionados were effusive. “(Rand) has effectively revolutionized the way the rest of us view Jewish art, heretofore an endangered species,” wrote Menachem Wecker in The Jewish Week.
Rand won a Guggenheim fellowship and chaired Columbia University’s visual arts program; his work is in the collections of the Metropolitan Museum of Art, the Getty, the Art Institute of Chicago and the Victoria and Albert Museum. But, he points out, not on their walls.
He has never sniffed the stardom of, say, Julian Schnabel, a family friend from Brooklyn. Rand’s current art is too unbridled for most Orthodox Jews, too Jewish for some other Jews and still oddly unsung by art tastemakers.
“His take is very important,” said Samantha Baskind, author of “Jewish Artists and the Bible in Twentieth-Century America,” who will curate a show of Rand’s Bible series at Cleveland State University in September 2016.
“But much of the market doesn’t understand or feel comfortable with Jewish subject matter,” she added. “Disheartening as it is, if he used his formidable talents on a different topic, he could be way bigger.”
Perhaps “The 613” will change that. It pairs mitzvahs with appropriated images from Mad Magazine, pulp and 20th-century illustration. Sometimes the connections are obvious, sometimes intriguingly oblique. It is outrageous and inviting, in-your-face and mysterious, making Rand’s case 613 times over.
Not everyone will buy it. But Rand believes in the power of good intent.
“There are Hasidic stories of children who whistle in synagogue because they don’t know how to pray,” he writes, “ … or soldiers who can only recite the alphabet, knowing that heaven will arrange their spoken letters into prayers. The 613 is one of those whistles.”
editor@jewishweek.orgRead More
FOOD & WINE

Cotes de Galilee Villages Cuvee Eva Blanc
Jacques Capsouto's First Vintage
Gamliel Kronemer
Special To The Jewish Week

The Israeli wine trade is a tough business to break into these days.  While there were once only a handful of wineries in the country, there are now hundreds, and in that crowded field, the likelihood of a new winery surviving are little better than those of a new restaurant surviving in Manhattan.

Those odds don’t scare Jacques Capsouto, the septuagenarian restaurateur-cum-vintner, whose winery, Côtes de Galilée Villages, which is located six miles from the Israel/Lebanon border, has recently released the first wines from it inaugural vintage.

If Capsouto’s name sounds familiar, it’s probably because he was one of three brothers who owned Capsouto Frères, Tribeca’s long-time landmark French restaurant, which closed after it was flooded by Hurricane Sandy. During his years at the restaurant, Capsouto honed his knowledge of wine, becoming one of the most respected sommeliers in New York.

After decades of selecting and serving other people’s wine, Capsouto decided that he wanted to make some of his own. “For years I’ve been saying that for my retirement that I wanted to make wine, so I started looking for a place,” Capsouto told The Jewish Week in a recent interview. “California is saturated and France on the Spanish/Mediterranean side is a very nice area for what I wanted to do. But I lived in France as a youngster, and being in France is not a very good idea [for a Jew] ... and I am a Zionist.”

Capsouto’s goal became to start producing what he describes as “old-world Mediterranean” kosher wines in Israel. “I want to make new blends in Israel in a different style.” In particular he wanted to get away from the long oak aging common at many Israeli wineries; of the four wines he produced from the 2014 vintage, only his Grand Vin was aged in oak. “I use oak to oxygenate the wine, not to give oak flavor,” Capsouto said.

Wanting to find a location that was not already oversaturated with wineries and vineyards, Capsouto spent five years looking for the right site, and eventually selected a property in the western Galilee.    In 2011, he planted what amounts to roughly 30 acres of terraced vineyards with nine varietals, all from the south of France, and some of which have never been planted in Israel before. He is particularly proud of his Counoise, an obscure black grape with a peppery flavor, from Châteauneuf-du-Pape: “Even in France [many] don’t know how to handle the Counoise,” he said, “but it came out very good for me.”

So far two of his wines have been released in the U.S., and both of them are named for his late mother Eva, who “had always wanted me to do something in Israel.”

Côtes de Galilée Villages Cuvée Eva Blanc is a light-bodied blend of 60 percent Grenache Blanc, 19 percent Roussanne, 14 percent Clairette, and 7 percent Marsanne that was aged in stainless steel tanks. Crisp and refreshing, this pale-straw colored wine has flavors and aromas of apricots, peaches and grapefruit, with a pleasant mineral note. Drinking well now, this wine should be consumed within the next year.

Score B+ ($18. Available at Taste Wine Co., 50 Third Ave., Manhattan, [212] 461-1708.)

Côtes de Galilée Villages Cuvée Eva Rosé is a light-peach-colored, light-bodied blend of 58 percent Cinsault, 22 percent Grenache and 20 percent Mourvèdre, which has a floral nose, flavors of strawberry, watermelon and citrus, and a light woodsy note towards the back of the palate. Well structured, with a good level of acid, this wine should be consumed within the next eight months or so. 

Score B/B+ ($15.99. Available at Mr. Wright Fine Wine and Spirits, 1593 Third Ave., Manhattan, [212] 722-4564.)

In the next few months Capsouto will be releasing two more wines: Cuvée Samuel, a blend of Grenache, Mourvèdre, Counoise and Syrah; and Grand Vin Rouge Marco, a blend of Grenache, Mourvèdre and Syrah that was aged in old oak — he describes it as “my Châteauneuf-du-Pape.”  

Capsouto produced 28,000 bottles in the first year, but he plans to more than double that number by next year. While the wine is thus far only available in a few stores in the New York area, Capsouto has used his connections in the restaurant world to get the wine on the menu at quite a number of non-kosher restaurants there. “No one has ever done that before,” he said. 

While running a new winery may not seem like much of a retirement, Capsouto said he could not be happier.

Please note: Wines are scored on an ‘A’-‘F’ scale where ‘A’ is excellent, ‘B’ is good, ‘C’ is flawed, ‘D’ is very flawed, and ‘F’ is undrinkable. Prices listed are the prices at the retailer mentioned.

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JEW BY VOICE
What Not To Say
Erica Brown
Special To The Jewish week

Erica Brown

When you’re ready, I have a great guy for you.” I ask you, does any recently bereaved wife need to hear this when sitting shiva? No. The runners up in the Jewish foot-in-mouth prize for shiva awkwardness are those who say that the recently deceased is happier now or that the suffering is finally over. For those in the low chairs, the suffering has just begun. It got so bad that a friend reported that a bereaved woman sitting shiva in her own home silenced the chatter when she challenged a visitor, “Do you think it’s appropriate to say that?”

And please hold back when visiting a sick person. “You look terrible” is not an expression of empathy. “You look great” also doesn’t work well, as a friend in the hospital once told me. “I hope this is not what great looks like.” Speaking of death, restrain the impulse to ask if the illness is fatal.

Some people believe that the ultimate statement of compassion is, “I know exactly what you’re going through.” Wrong. This sounds like you are competing in the Jewish suffering Olympics. There is no competition when it comes to sorrow. We each fail and fall and face crisis uniquely. It’s best not to snatch someone else’s pain but leave it whole and untouched by your personal experience.

Also — never, never wish a woman mazal tov on being pregnant unless you know that she really is pregnant or the head is actually crowning. And even then double-check, possibly with her OBGYN. Women who suffer this insult never forget it and rarely forgive the asker. Pregnant women generally don’t love when you comment on their weight gain. When I was seven months pregnant and competing with Violet Beauregarde for the world’s largest short person, a colleague said loudly across the hall, “Erica, you look so pregnant.” The good Lord helped me reply: “And, you look so single.”

I’ve been thinking about why special events often bring out the worst in people because by the end of this month, my two oldest children will be married. When my first got married this past June — a fact that I shared with relative strangers if we engaged in conversation — I had several people ask me: “Do you like him?” I looked puzzled. You couldn’t have just asked me if I like my son-in-law. I love him, but if I didn’t would I tell you, a person I met only 10 minutes ago? Maybe I’m just weird, but I try not to share challenging family dynamics with people I hardly know.

And then there was the acquaintance from shul who heard my son got engaged and came over to wish me well. “How are you going to pay for two weddings?” he asked in passing. I was so stunned that after I put my eyeballs back in my head, I weakly replied, “That’s a great question” and walked away. When I shared this at home, my husband felt it would be better to just state the truth, “No problem. My husband works for the federal government, and I’m in Jewish education.” My daughter was sharper: “We’re doing that by keeping the numbers low. You’re not invited.”

“You shall not oppress one another, but fear your Lord because I am the Lord your God,” says Leviticus 25:17. The Talmud’s sages unpacked this verse as the biblical prohibition of oppressing someone with words: reminding another of a personal change that may bring them pain, attributing reasons for someone else’s suffering or using language that carries emotional barbs for another. Attaching the prohibition to fear God suggests that no one but God knows the intention you have when you use words to hurt. Only you can know if it’s intentional or a stupid slip. Just remember that a Divine Presence hovers over. There are consequences, even when we think no one will know. We always answer to someone.

New situations can bring out strange responses as everyone adjusts to new realities. For those who struggle with language, the impulse to say something, anything, can come out as an unfiltered sleight or odd incursion into the deepest areas of another’s personal life.

So here’s what people in crisis and happiness want to hear from you: heart-warming stories or any of these expressions. I am here for you. I am sorry. I am so happy for you. I am thinking of you. I care about you. I share your joy. I can’t imagine what you are going through. I love you.

Silence also works really well.

Erica Brown’s column appears the first week of the month.

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Treif And Torah At An All Time Chai For American Jews
JTA

Dating, Dating & Mating, Oy Gay!

Do you experience feelings of peace and well-being at least once a week? Did God write the Torah? Do you eat bacon?

If these questions seem a little personal, don’t fret. They’re all part of a new Pew Research Center survey on American religion released Tuesday that shows moderate declines in religious beliefs and behavior among Americans generally, but growth among Jews in some key religious categories.

Some 847 of the 35,000 Americans in the Pew telephone survey between June and September 2014 identified themselves as Jews by religion — far fewer than the 3,475 Jews interviewed for Pew’s landmark 2013 survey of U.S. Jewry. (Unlike the new survey, the ’13 study also counted as Jews those of “no religion” who identified themselves as Jewish by ethnicity, parentage or feeling). But there’s still plenty of interesting data on Jewish beliefs, practice and voting patterns in the new survey.

Here are some of the study’s more interesting findings:

Growing prayer and Torah study

Compared with the last time Pew surveyed Americans about religion, in 2007, the percentage of Jews who said religion is very important to them grew from 31 percent to 35 percent. Similarly, the percentage who said they attend religious services weekly or more often grew from 16 percent to 19 percent; the proportion of Jews who said they read “scripture” at least weekly grew from 14 percent to 17 percent, and the percentage of those who said they participate in prayer groups or religious study groups at least weekly grew from 11 percent to 16 percent.

However, it’s important to note that most of those increases are within the survey’s margin of error for Jewish respondents, which is 4.2 percentage points. On the question of the proportion of Jews who attend religious services weekly or more, for example, there is inconsistency between this survey’s finding of 19 percent and Pew’s 2013 finding of 14 percent. Alan Cooperman, Pew’s director of religion research, told JTA the numbers are within the two surveys’ combined margins of error, but that the questions were also asked slightly differently, so direct comparisons are tricky.

Jews aren’t that concerned with the meaning of life

Jews think about the meaning and purpose of life less than American Christians or Muslims — 45 percent of Jews compared to 64 percent of Muslims, 61 percent of Protestants, 52 percent of Catholics and 59 percent of Buddhists. The survey found that 70 percent of Jews feel a strong sense of gratitude at least once a week.

Did God write the Bible?

Eleven percent of Jews believe the Torah is the literal word of God. That’s about the same proportion as Orthodox Jews within the U.S. Jewish population overall. An additional 26 percent of Jews believe the Torah is the non-literal word of God and 55 percent believe the Torah was written by men. Compared to other religious groups in America, Jews have the lowest proportion of adherents who believe God wrote the Bible (except for Buddhists, who don’t believe in the Bible).

Jews also read the Bible less than other religious Americans. Among Jews, 17 percent of respondents said they read the Bible outside of services at least weekly, compared to 35 percent for all Americans, 52 percent of Protestants and 25 percent of Catholics.

Meanwhile, belief in God fell slightly among Jews, from 72 percent in 2007 to 64 percent in 2014 (37 percent said they were absolutely certain God exists, and 27 percent said they were fairly certain).

Right or wrong? Jews use common sense

Where do Jews turn for guidance on questions of right and wrong? Fifty percent use “common sense,” 17 percent turn to religion, 17 percent to philosophy and 14 percent to science. Twenty-one percent of Jews believe in absolute standards of right and wrong, and 76 percent say it depends on the situation.

Forty percent of Jews say they believe in heaven, up from 38 percent in 2007, and 22 percent say they believe in hell, the same as in 2007. By contrast, 72 percent of all Americans believe in heaven and 58 percent believe in hell. Seventy-nine percent of Jews believe other religions can also lead to eternal life — a higher proportion than among Christians (66 percent) or Muslims (65 percent).

Jewish women pray more than Jewish men

Most Jewish survey respondents — 53 percent — said they belong to a local house of worship (the survey did not break down results by religious denomination). Though 19 percent of Jews surveyed said they attend services at least once a week, 29 percent said they pray at least once a day (up from 26 percent in 2007), 24 percent said they pray weekly or monthly, and 45 percent said they seldom or never pray. While there is a significant divide between the sexes among Americans generally when it comes to daily prayer — 64 percent of American women vs. 46 percent of American men pray daily — among Jews the gender difference is slight: 31 percent of Jewish women compared to 27 percent of Jewish men pray daily.

Most American Jews eat pork

When it comes to observing religious dietary restrictions, Jews are less fastidious than Muslims or Hindus. While 90 percent of Muslims surveyed said they abjure pork and 67 percent of Hindus said they avoid beef, only 40 percent of Jews abstain from eating pork. Fifty-seven percent of Jews surveyed affirmed they eat pork. (One percent of Jewish respondents said they were vegetarian; the survey did not ask Christian respondents about vegetarianism).

Jews are not at peace with themselves

While 59 percent of all Americans said they experience deep feelings of spiritual peace and well-being at least once a week (68 percent of Protestants, 57 percent of Catholics and 64 percent of Muslims), the figure for Jews was only 39 percent. But that was still more than agnostics and atheists, who experience those feelings weekly at rates of 37 percent and 31 percent, respectively.

Are religious organizations a force for good?

Eighty-eight percent of Jews said their houses of worship and other religious organizations bring people together and strengthen community bonds, but only 63 percent said those institutions protect and strengthen morality in society. By contrast, 83 percent of Christians and Muslims said their institutions protect and strengthen morality in society.

At the same time, 54 percent of Jews surveyed said religious institutions are too concerned with money and power (compared to 52 percent of all Americans), 59 percent said they focus too much on rules (51 percent among all Americans) and 59 percent said they’re too involved with politics (48 percent among all Americans).

Jewish Republicans gain, but so do Jewish liberals

Although the increase in Republican Jews is within the survey’s margin of error for Jews, the percentage of Jews who identified as Republican or leaning Republican grew by 2 points between 2007 and 2014, from 24 percent to 26 percent. Concomitantly, the proportion of Jews who identified as Democrats or leaning Democratic fell from 66 percent in 2007 to 64 percent in 2014. However, while the percentage of Jews who identify as politically conservative stayed constant during that time, the percentage of Jews who identify as liberal grew from 38 percent to 43 percent — mostly defectors from the “moderate” camp.

Among Americans generally, the change between 2007 and 2014 was a 3-point growth for Republicans and a 3-point drop among Democrats. Nine percent of Jews surveyed in 2014 identified as independents, compared to 17 percent among Americans generally.

Jews are more accepting of gays than other Americans

Acceptance of “homosexuality in society” grew among all Americans between 2007 and 2014, from 50 percent to 62 percent, and among Jews from 79 percent to 81 percent. The religious groups least tolerant of homosexuality in society are Mormons (only 36 percent favor societal acceptance), Jehovah’s Witnesses (16 percent) and Protestant evangelicals (36 percent). Buddhists were the most accepting at 88 percent. Seventy-seven percent of Jews said they support same-sex marriage, compared to 53 percent of all Americans.

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BLOGS

POLITICAL INSIDER
Oy Vey, Send Money

Douglas Bloomfield

Are you feeling lonely and neglected because nobody writes or calls? No one seems to care? Do you stare at an empty email in-box as you sit around waiting for the phone to ring?

Well I have a simple solution to your problems: Write a check.

Or sign a petition, put your name on a letter or email to a public official, subscribe to a newsletter or respond to an on-line questionnaire.  You can answer a request to wish Hillary Clinton a happy 68th  birthday, thank Joe Biden of John Boehner for his patriotic service, wish Paul Ryan success as Speaker or show your support for our troops by simply clicking on the message.

And lately there's been a rash of diverse emails asking people to express their support for Israel in the face of a new wave of Palestinian violence, declare support for the two-state solution, oppose Palestinian statehood, help fight anti-Semitism.  They largely come from organizations whose mission is unrelated to the current outbreak and all have the same message: "oy vey, send money."

It's worse when disasters hit. Many organizations immediately spring into action, but for them "first responder" means rapidly mobilizing fundraisers.

Political and issues-focused fundraising has become an art and a science, as much in the organized Jewish community as in the broader political realm. It's irritating, but the fact is, it works, which is why every group from AIPAC to ZOA does it.

And nothing raises more money than the shrai gevalt of imminent disaster like "Israel's very existence is in danger because of (fill in the blank)."

When responding to appeals for money, make sure you write your name and both addresses – snail and email – clearly, include your phone number and any other information requested. 

Then sign on the dotted line, send off your check or give over your credit card information. 

Presto, like magic, your loneliness problems will be solved.  Soon you'll have more friends than ever.  You'll start getting mail, beginning with a warm and computer-personalized thank you that includes a request for more money.  Then watch as the trickle turns into a tsunami.

They usually don't ask for much, just $3 or $5; or maybe nothing at first, just answer a questionnaire (they don't really want to know what you think, they just want to get you hooked).

$3?  Hey, anyone can afford that.  What do you get for your $3? 

Mail.  Lots of it.  And phone calls. Constantly.

If you still want to donate to a politician or a worthy cause but not be harassed by a constant avalanche of email and dinnertime robo phone calls, donate anonymously.

And give directly to the candidate or organization, not some third party claiming to raise money to advance the candidate or cause, because most of that will go to the consultants and fundraiser .

If you get tired of all the attention from your newfound friends, you can set up filters in your email program to direct all this new mail to the junk pile.  If you don't know how to do that, simply ask any teenager you know.

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WELL VERSED
Willy Loman's Alter Heym

Barry Lichtenberg

Avi Hoffman as Willy Loman (foreground) and Adam Shapiro as Howard in “Death of a Salesman.” Ronald L. Glassman
The first word in the opening scene has not yet been uttered and already you are transfixed. The old salesman approaches the spare stage clutching two worn, oversized leather valises. At first you don’t notice him. No spotlight shines near him and he somehow seems invisible, a nobody. But there he stands, gathering up himself one more time. He winces, squints, opens and shut his eyes. Is he fending off a nightmare or trying to recapture a lost dream?
Willy Loman is coming home.
And so, linguistically, does “Death of a Salesman,” Arthur Miller’s 1949 classic drama, in no small part by New Yiddish Rep's performance in Yiddish off Broadway at the Castillo Theatre. (There are unobtrusive English supertitles.) This is one of the most riveting plays I have ever seen, with a stellar cast led by the Avi Hoffman who fully inhabits his Loman character. And for us Yiddish-speakers, Joseph Buloff’s beautiful 1951 Yiddish translation is a pleasure to hear spoken in a variety of accents.
Full disclosure: Before this performance, I had never seen “Death of a Salesman” in any language. I had not even read the play. (The rule of thumb is that the more Yiddish you learned in yeshiva, the less Arthur Miller you were taught.) More to the point, perhaps my infatuation was with the playwright as much as with the production. After all, with its intermingling of fantasy and reality, quotidian struggles and depiction of have and have-nots, "Death of a Salesman" has a contemporary crackle. And its depiction of a son, torn between becoming a 2.0 version of his father or finding his own way in life, hits close to home.
So I brought along Esther Herzfeld, a master English teacher at Maayanot High School in Teaneck, New Jersey. In the course of her distinguished career, she has taught “Death of a Salesman” for more than 25 years. Esther loved it. She noted that Brook Atkinson, legendary theater critic of The New York Times, wrote that after seeing Buloff’s Yiddish translation in 1951, he better understood the play. And indeed, some of the play’s phrasing (“You can’t eat an orange and throw away the peel. A man is not a piece of fruit”) sounds better in Yiddish (“Du kenst nisht oyfesn a marants un aroysvarfn dem sholekhts. A mentsh iz nisht keyn farfoylte shtikl frukht”). While the English supertitles are Miller’s text, the exact translation of the second line is “A man is not a rotten piece of fruit!”
And so, whether Yiddish is your mother tongue or you need to Google cholent; whether Arthur Miller is on your personal Mount Rushmore of artistic greats or you were closed out of “Hamilton,” get yourself to Castillo Theatre for an unforgettable evening.
New Yiddish’s Rep’s “Death of a Saleman,” directed by Moshe Yassur, is produced in association with the Castillo Theater, 543 West 42nd Street, and runs through November 22nd.
Barry Lichtenberg practices commercial and real estate litigation in Manhattan at Lichtenberg PLLC.Read More

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