Poland Reflection (essay)

Now two months into the program, I can genuinely say that I have gotten to know my sixty-two classmates extremely well. We have learned, travelled, and lived incessantly with one another. Sometimes this continuous living with one another has tested our strong community, but one recent event has tested it like no other- when all sixty two of us flew to Poland in order to deeply understand the worst occurrence of the Jewish people: the Holocaust. Together, we travelled all over Poland- from the Warsaw ghetto, to the Tykocin Shtetl where traditional Jews lived before the Holocaust, to the extermination camp of Majdonek, to Auschwitz, to the Lodz ghetto, back to Warsaw. While we did learn about the thriving Jewish life in Poland prior to the Holocaust, it was often overshadowed by the horrors and unforgettable stories of what came soon after, stories that included bold acts of resistance against the Nazi government, known as Iberleben. My trip to Poland was unforgettable, and engraved in me an appreciation for Judaism along with the belief in an ever-present goodness no matter how tempting evil can be.

            While in Poland, my peers and I visited a Shtetl called Tykocin, where we learned about the lives of Jews prior to the Holocaust. A Shtetl is a Jewish population, despite residing amongst non-Jews, who lived in a distinct Jewish culture- celebrating Shabbat, keeping Kosher, speaking in Yiddush, praying daily, and not intermarrying. Tykocin was very similar to the setting of the well-known movie Fiddler on the Roof. However, this similarity between Fiddler on the Roof and the actual setting of Tykocin are not surprising, considering the man who wrote Tevya the Milkman, the book that Fiddler on the Roof is based off of, was written by Shalom Aleichem, a famous Yiddush writer who grew up in a Shtetl of his own. Shalom Aleichem also wrote The Town of the Little People, a story about a Shtetl similar to that of Tykocin. In the story, the citizens value their cemetery more than any piece of land, as it is the only piece of land that they truly own. Tykocin, to this day, also has a cemetery in a field similar to that of Kasrilevka, the Shtetl in Aleichem’s story. While most people associate cemeteries only with death, the cemeteries in Shtetls helped them to live. Because of the cemeteries, they had a land where they could “breathe freely”, and had a land where they would be proud to show their visitors. There is life in places of death, and that idea is something I will take with me from the Tykocin experience. Though the citizens of Tykocin were murdered in the forest, the forest brings Jews all over the world together in mourning. There, I saw languages from all over the world expressing both grief over Tykocin’s tragic end and confidence that the Jewish people will live on. The coming together of people is certainly something I associate with life.

            Just as Jews came all over the world to mourn at Tykocin, Jews came from all over to mourn together at Majdonek. However, there is much less life to be found at Majdonek. Rather, we walked around Majdonek hearing stories about and looking at symbols of death. The symbols that stuck out to me most at Majdonek were the ones that reminded me of the enormous number of individual lives lost during the Holocaust. The 7 ton pile of ash of Jews murdered at Majdonek initiated a realization that not only did the Jews of Majdonek die in a horrible way, but the remembrance of Jew’s life was taken away too. No one can visit an individualized grave surrounded by flowers to remember them; they can only stop by an enormous pile of ash without even the ability to know who la in that pile. They were robbed of the chance to leave an individual legacy. The only chance for me to understand what sort of people lay in that great pile of ash was when I saw a room filled with their shoes. Each one slightly different, I felt like I was afforded the slight opportunity to get to know who these people were and how they expressed themselves. In this way, the impressions that the places of life and death left on me were somewhat similar. They both allowed me to get to know others- one through death, through the shoes the Nazis took away, and one through life, through the places of gathering in Tykocin.

            During the Holocaust, or Shoah in Hebrew, people bravely participated in acts of resistance, or Iberleben, in an attempt to sanctify life. One person who participated in this was Yanuk Gorchuck, who created an orphanage for Jewish children despite his ability to flee Poland. Even when the Jewish children were being led to their deaths, he went with them. Gorchuck ensured that the children could have every last minute being children, rather than people who must mature to face death. The Nazi’s wanted to take away from the Jews the experience of being human, part of which is being a child. While the children were led to their deaths, Gorchuck successfully resisted against the Nazi’s in that when they died, they still had part of the experience of being a child- playing with one another, dressing up, and having a figure to look up to. Without Gorchuck’s brave act of resistance, they would not have this. Many doctors in the hospitals of ghettos also participated in Iberleben when they intentionally poisoned children so that they would not have to go to the chambers. While it must have been incredibly difficult to poison children and receive criticisms for doing such things, their actions saved countless lives. This story spoke to me because it made me realize that doing the right thing is not easily defined, but it is certainly not defined by what other people believe. Everyone can believe that you are a bad person, but what matters most is that you actually are a good person. Learning about these stories gives me, along with an untold number of people, hope that goodness will always exist. The non-Jews of the Holocaust had extremely convincing motives to turn a blind eye to the Jews, yet for some, their goodness at heart was stronger than anything else, even risk of death for their families. They act as a role model for me. No matter how tempting evil is, I now know that it is possible to remain good- many in the Holocaust did so.

            I disagree with Rabbi Emil Fackenheim’s 614^th mitzvah, “Jews are forbidden to hand Hitler posthumous victories, they are commanded to survive as Jews, lest the Jewish people perish.” Rabbi Fackenheim is asserting that Jews have an obligation to ensure the survival of the Jewish people, in spite of Hitler. However, I do not believe that we should do anything because of Hitler, especially not create a mitzvah. Mitzvot are sacred to Jews, and are supposed to be given to us by G-d. They should not be created because of a man who attempted to murder all of us. To have humans create Mitzvot, especially Mitzvot born of spite, would lower the significance of G-d’s Mitzvot.  To act based off of Hitler, would be to give him a posthumous victory, just as allowing the Jewish people to perish would be to give Hitler a posthumous victory. Rather, we should care and act about the survival of the Jewish people because we want to and truly care about it. We can help ensure the survival of the Jewish people by creating more Jewish programs for youth, such as NFTY and BBYO. Because of programs such as these, youth will understand that Judaism is greater than a religion, and begin to understand that it is a people worth being a part of. People too often abandon Judaism because they believe that they must believe in G-d to be part of it. However, if we were to educate people on the actual heart of Judaism, and the importance of the Jewish community, people will be more obliged to be a part of it.

            Going to Poland was an experience I will never forget. I will never forget getting to know a bit of those who were robbed of the opportunity of a beautiful death. I will never forget the individualism of every one of the 6 million Jews who perished. I will never forget the goodness in people despite almost every reason to be bad. Constantly I have absent-mindedly listened to the statement “never forget” the Holocaust, but going to Poland made me realize the importance of these words. We cannot allow history to repeat itself. I believe that the Holocaust should attack everyone’s emotions, and the best way that can be done is by seeing it personally in Poland. That way, no one can forget. I know I never will.

           

Oral Law vs. Written Law: An essay

Most Jews are aware that Moses received a written Torah from Mount Sinai, known as Torah Shebichtav in Hebrew.  However, many Jews are not aware that Moses also received an Oral Law on Mount Sinai, or Torah Shebaal Peh. The Written Law ensures that the law is not forgotten or does not change because it cannot be easily interpreted, but its flexibility is also negative aspect. It is not able to change with the time or be flexible to any situations. This is why many believe the Written Law has its counterpart- the Oral Law, which can be adaptable, but at the cost of it being changed so much that its original form is forgotten. The rigidity of the Written Law along with the flexibility of the Oral Law allow the Reform Jewish people to continue to learn and grow with the times, while still being assured that their learning can bind all Jews across time and around the world together.

The Oral Law affords the Jewish people change with the times,  and encourages engagement with one another through interpretation. But this comes at the cost of potentially straying from its original meaning. The Oral law can be compared to a game of telephone, in which from person to person, the story changes, loses details, and also adds details derived from inferences. This change of the story, in this case the law, also happens in the Oral Law, but the consequences play out further than simply a short game: people will spend their lives studying the added, lost and changed details. The Oral law changed so much that when Moses supposedly went into the future into the class of Rabbi Akiva, a famous rabbi during the first and second century CE, Moses hadn’t even recognized the own words that he was supposed to have received from G-d on Mount Sinai. This story is no doubt a display of how susceptible Oral Law is to change. Many people, upon first learning Oral Law, would consider its constant change a negative aspect. However, when Moses heard that Rabbi Akiva said that his teachings came from “law given to Moses at Sinai”, or Halakha L’Moshe M’Sinai, he was relieved. Even though Moses himself was unable to recognize the Jewish law, the law, was in some way or another, derived from G-d on Sinai . Therefore, no matter how much Judaism and Oral law adapts with the times, what we are learning will always be somehow connected with Jews that came thousands of years before us. The Oral law also encourages conversation and learning. When Yehudah HaNassi finally wrote the Oral law down in what is known as the Mishnah, there was enormous amount of commentary on it, so much so that another major Jewish writing was made to comment on it- the Gomorra. Together known as the Talmud, the Mishnah and Gomorrah is central to Jewish study. The Talmud contains two-sided arguments about what the Oral law might mean, and leaves the reader to think for himself and converse with his peers about how we should live our lives according to the Mishnah. The oral law encourages us to discuss with one another, study, and look back at the Tanakh for support. In this way, Oral law, though no longer distinctly oral, highlights Judaism’s emphasis on study and conversation.

Even though Oral law is adaptable and encourages Jews to study it, written law ensures that the law will not change too much. Because it was written down at its origin, there is not as much to interpret from it. Whatever is written should be followed by Jews, and there isn’t much room to debate about it. The idea of interpreting the written law was such an absurd idea that Reform Judaism, who believe in interpretation through knowledge, wasn’t founded until the nineteenth century by Abraham Geiger, about three thousand years after the written law was attained. The consequences of interpreting too much can be seen by the founding of Christianity. The founders of Christianity, who were Jews, simply interpreted the role of Jesus differently than traditional Jews, and were first seen as merely a different, radical sect of Judaism. However, their different interpretation eventually became a religion completely different than Judaism today. If there is too much interpretation, Jews can become too different. Jews can all interpret different things to be true, but then the difficult question arises of what binds us all together.  The written laws helps bind us, Jews from all generations, together because we all share the same central text.

As Modern Reform Jews, we take the strengths of both Oral Law and Written Law and apply it to how we act. Just as the Oral Law encourages to interpret and adapt to modern times, Modern Reform Jews also encourage interpretation. For instance, we are encouraged to interpret for ourselves whether or not keeping kosher is meaningful for modern times. However, there are some things that Modern Reform Jews keep set in stone to bind all Jews around the world together, just as the Written Law ensures that Jews are binded from all generations together. However, this taking of the rigidity of the Written Law along with the interpretation of the Oral Law is something specific to Modern Reform Judaism. Classical Reform Jews, Reform Jews of the nineteenth century, relied almost exclusively of interpretation. They made changes seen as absurd to my Modern Reform Jewish history class- switching Shabbat to sunday, and ridding of kippot, Tallitot, and Hebrew services, and condemning circumcision. Now, Modern Reform Jews keep some things rigid - redesignating Saturday as Shabbat, making kippot, tallitot, and circumcision more common, and praying in Hebrew- binding us once again with Jews around the world and across time.

        A rabbi once told me that our greatest strengths as individuals are also our greatest weaknesses. I think that statement is also applicable to the Oral and Written Law. The Oral Law’s strength is its adaptability and its plea to be interpreted, but this adaptability and easy interpretation can also lead to so much change that it does not even reflect its original form. And the Written Laws strength is its promise to never be forgotten or changed, but this means less applicableness to modern times and less studying of it. These strengths and weaknesses of the Written and Oral Law are why they need each other. When I realized that our greatest strengths are our greatest weaknesses I became dejected, as I thought that meant that improving my weaknesses would put the best aspects of myself at risk. But I now realize that that isn’t the case- we don’t need to put our strengths at risk. The oral law came with its opposite, the written law, so that the Jewish people could have both timeless interpretation and assurance of tradition. Likewise, we, as humans, can have both our strengths and the hope of ridding of our weaknesses if we work as a team. When a person is with another person who has opposite strengths and weaknesses, together, they have only strengths. Maybe that’s why they say opposites attract.

"How Israel Is Being Framed"

http://www.tabletmag.com/jewish-news-and-politics/195487/how-israel-is-being-framed

            As humans, we have the natural inclination to categorize things. When we do this categorizing, we are completely abandoning the opportunity to understand deeply a situation or person, and grow from the experience of doing so. This categorization of people and situations is not only the root of racism and sexism, but also the root of those who believe that the Black struggle in regards to police brutality is the same as the struggle for Palestinians in Israel. By automatically categorizing these two struggles together, they are refusing to acknowledge the great differences between the respective situations. If they were to actually look deeper into the situations, they would see that Black Lives Matter movement focuses on how the victims are innocent, whereas “Palestinians do share in the responsibility for their own travails and suffering”. And while I do not believe that Palestinians fully deserve their suffering, there is a clear and undeniable difference between the two situations, differences that are worthy of people’s attention.

            As a reform Jew, I am often accused of laziness- of not participating in Jewish traditions simply because I am too lazy to. But in this case, I have educated myself on the topic enough not to allow my brain to automatically categorize them together. The solution of this natural inclination to categorize is simply education, so I highly suggest that people educate themselves and understand the two topics, before blindly considering them as one.

Community

            This past weekend I went to Tel Aviv with my mom and dad; it was my first time exploring Israel without 63 of my closest friends by my side. While I had an amazing time with my parents, it was a completely different experience than what I would have normally experienced with the gradually formed Kehillah Kedoshah (Holy Community) of EIE.

            The past weekend made me realize how vital the community is to making EIE so special. The experiences that we undergo on EIE are remarkable, but it is the relationships and community formed that heighten these experiences, and make them truly unforgettable. Whatever we are doing on EIE, whether it be in class or at the Dead Sea, every individual’s personality truly adds to my own experience here in Israel. While I have yet to create a direct meaningful relationship with every person on this trip, I know that every person has done some action, as a result of his or her unique personality, that has affected my own experience. I love how my EIE experience is turning out, and that wouldn’t be the same without every single person on this trip.

            In Judaism, there is an emphasis on the community. For instance, in order to pray you need a minyan, or at least ten other people. These ten other people do not need to be your friends, nor do they need any sort of relation with you. They simply must exist and pray with you, and that is supposed to add to the prayer experience. This may seem slightly absurd to the outsider unaccustomed to the community, but I have come to realize that people, who choose to form a community together, have an enormous and indescribable power. The community heightens the individual’s experience; in this case, community can heighten the individual’s prayer.  

            I learned while being away from you chaverim, but I’m more than glad to be back.

Revolution

http://www.jpost.com/Israel-News/Reform-Movement-representatives-describe-quiet-revolution-to-Knesset-committee-446021

I think that it is interesting how significant reform rabbis and orthodox rabbis talking to one another is, so much so that a simple meeting between the rabbis, where no major reforms between the sects were made, would constitute a “revolution”. We learn in school that a revolution is a forceful overthrow of an old system. Assuming that the “old system” in this case is a lack of understanding between the sects of Judaism, I think that a positive change among sects could very likely take place- understanding starts with communication, which has already begun. However, to call it a revolution between the sects implies “force”, which I don’t think is something Judaism should be hoping for. I admire Judaism as a peaceful, accepting religion, and we should not be forcing other sects to be doing anything. Rather, we must be working with one another to reform, not forcefully revolutionize, the old system of miscommunication.