Kehilla Synagogue--Intimate and Inclusive

I had the chance to spend Saturday morning Shabbat with the kind folks at Kehilla Synagogue. I had been meaning to go since it's not too far from home and I was eager to see what Renewal Judaism is like in an established congregation.

My previous experience with Renewal was with "chaverot," which meet in people's homes, gathering together for the high holidays (Rosh Hashana and Yom Kippur) but going their own way the rest of the time.

The Renewal movement of Judaism, which grew out of the 1960's and the Aquarian Minyan (founded in Berkeley in 1974). There is a strong sense of wanting to heal the world, partly from those who were appalled by the war in Vietnam and who had a stong sense of social justice. Kehilla is fully open to all, feminist, all-inclusive of gay, lesbian, bi, transgender--well--everybody--even non-Jews. And, as is the case in so many congregations today, couples often contain only one Jewish member. Kehilla has always been accepting of these families.

Kehilla (it means "community" in Hebrew) was founded in 1984 by Rabbi Burt Jacobson, who has been a rabbi for 45 years! He was there on Saturday and I had the pleasure to meet and talk with him a little.

I actually visited Kehilla many years ago when they shared a building with a church in Berkeley, but now, they occupy a fine old church at the edge of a thriving commercial street in Piedmont, California--right where it becomes a neighborhood of homes.

I wasn't sure how big a space it would be at Kehilla, but I was pleased to find that this Shabbat was intimate, taking place in Fireside Room downstairs. The main sanctuary looks big enough to handle a pretty large crowd, which it surely does on the major holidays. I got a tour from Julie, one of the first to arrive. She is involved in Kehilla's substantial music organization, a small part of which I enjoyed on Saturday. I also met Rina, who is a lifelong singer and who led the musical part of the service--which was a lot!

This service seemed like a good one to attend because it going to talk about art and creativity and how it relates to Judaism and spirituality. As a musician, I was intrigued. And we did talk about it, with Rabbi David Jonathan Cooper, one of the co-founders of Kehilla. He was serious, humorous, thoughtful, and very open. There were a few places in the service where congregants spoke about (or blessed) something--in this case, we spoke of light and of art.

I said a couple of things as part of the group. I have always had mixed feelings about this, because I feel like we non-rabbis are not experts, but the kind of inclusion at Kehilla felt right. There was a significant amount of praying, in Hebrew, but also singing--very pleasantly rendered with harmonies by several of the attendees.

My experience in childhood was of sitting and not participating, but Kehilla welcomes participation. When the Torah was opened up to be read, several of us took part, from unwrapping to holding, and when the three aliyas took place, anyone who wanted to could come up and do it together. I liked that. It spreads the honor. Nobody was dozing off or getting bored, although I was surprised at how many people joined the service after it had started.

I had thought that perhaps the Renewal service here would be too "way out" or not have a strong basis in tradition but I didn't find that here. I heard plenty of Hebrew, and some of the melodies were the same ones I learned in the Reform synagogue as a child. And, there were some new melodies, including ones written by people in that room.

After the service, which went for more than two hours (it felt like less), we went into the next room and celebrated with a nice oneg, with a spread of traditional Jewish food, including home-baked challah (thanks, Steve!) and we had a grape juice kiddush.

I had some interesting conversations. One person told me she and her husband joined because it was a community without gossip. Everyone got along. That seems like a good idea to me. Of course, I've had a pretty nice time at every service I've attended with the people themselves. When I consider affiliating with a congregation, perhaps next year, Kehilla will definitely be in the running. I felt at home there, and that whatever I was or did would be OK. My non-Jewish wife could come--if she felt like it--and nobody would mind. Kehilla is politically active and very much part of the modern world, which feels good--and different. The significant emphasis on music, participation and inclusion feels right.

It's a 20-minute drive away, too.

I plan to attend a larger event--a musical Shabbat at the end of the month, and will report back.

Joining in at a Chabad Saturday Service

I was invited to attend a Saturday morning service by Rabbi RR, and I accepted. It was to be followed by lunch, so I figured I'd get a good chance to meet some of the people who attended the shul and see how they felt about things. Rabbi RR suggested I drop in once the service had already started, so I got there at about 10:30 a.m.

The Rabbi placed a tallit over my shoulders, directed me to come up to the front of the room, and I grabbed a siddur (prayerbook) and joined in.

While Reform and Conservative synagogues are set up on the "church" model, where the professional religious staff performs a ritual that parishioners may or not be involved in, the Orthodox model is more participatory. Although the rabbi is the nominal leader, anyone can direct the service who knows how it goes. There is an order, and there are some long prayers in Hebrew to say, but they're all there in the book. Occasionally, I watched the rabbi say a passage very quickly--like an auctioneer--and then slow down. Some of the people spoke the prayers at their own pace, and you could hear them in the background.

The centerpiece of a Saturday service is reading from the Torah--the sacred scrolls containing what a Christian would recognize as the first five books of the Old Testament or the Pentateuch. The common English translation is NOT the King James version, but it reads in a "thee and thou" way. There are other translations into more standard modern English too, but it's most satisfying to hear it in Hebrew, and then have the Rabbi explain what's going on.

It's an honor to help with the reading--to be called "up" for an aliyah. There is a short prayer that you chant before the section of the Torah portion that is read while you're up there, and a short concluding prayer. I was surprised--and pleased--to be called up for the fourth of the seven aliyahs. Using my Hebrew name--Shlomo ben Mendel--the rabbi beckoned me up to the folding table that he used to hold the precious Torah, which had been ceremonially removed from the "ark" where it normally lives. It had the wooden spindles on each end and the beautiful hand-written text on its parchment.

I said the first prayer--which I not only remembered, but got to hear three others recite before me, and it was written on a large card on the table in case you needed help to remember it. I was surprised that it was the very same one we used in the Reformed temple when I was a kid!

I stood next to the rabbi as he read, with my hand on the Torah's wooden handle. After reciting the concluding prayer a few minutes later, I moved to the side as a young man, came up and did his part. After you finish and step back to your seat, others shake your hand, congratulating you for participating. It felt great.

The service proceeded after the Torah reading for a while, including a Haftorah reading from the Prophets. At the end of the service, the rabbi wished us "Good Shabbat" and we stepped away to have lunch.

There was a nice spread in the kitchen, and I helped myself before sitting down at the long table with the others. We had a very pleasant and interesting conversation about Jewish subjects, including a little wine and some hard liquor (in small quantities). Shabbat is a happy time, even though we also discussed a few people who were ill and one man's sister, who had just died unexpectedly a few days before--in her 40's. The man had said the mourner's kaddish prayer during the service, so assumed that had suffered a loss recently.

The Orthodox service, as done by the Chabad folks, is inclusive, and I was pleased that I knew enough to participate. I felt at home there, which surprised me a little. I will be meeting with the rabbi this week to talk about the upcoming holiday of Purim, and I'm sure I'll be back for Saturday soon.

Judaism and Music - Keeping Two Streams Separate

Where's the bass player?

I have just returned from an abortive attempt to play the bass at a Friday night service. I had been concerned about this particular temple because of the minimal attendance but even more because of the erratic and unprepared nature of the cantor.

Tonight, I arrived on time and was ready to go, but she worked with two other musicians exclusively on a new song. I sat and listened for half an hour, doing nothing. Finally, we began on what was to be our second piece at the upcoming service. I played it through, and it sounded nice. She then decided that I should simply play the root of the chord for each measure, and proceeded to dictate these to me.

I decided then that this was not going to work for me. I packed my bass and came home.

I have believed for a while now that I could combine my love of music with my exploration of Judaism but that does not appear to be working for me. I have now played in a few different places and I am finding that I don't enjoy it. The parts are simple and repetitious--if there's one written at all--and are sometimes required with no rehearsal. There is lots of waiting around before and during the service. I am not having fun, and, with so much real music to play, I don't need this. So for now, I am separating music from my religions studies, until the time comes to reconsider under other circumstances. Maybe a Renewal congregation, filled with ecstatic worshippers, will change my mind.

Oddly, when I played the Faure Requiem in an Episcopal church last November, it was a wonderful experience. The piece itself took some hard work and the bass had a beautiful and worthwhile part to contribute. Of course, playing with several fine musicians, an 18-member choir and an organ was fine too. But that was church music!

It's hard enough for me to revisit Judaism in the first place. I remember attending services in a number of different temples as a kid and not really enjoying it that much. I got fidgety sitting on a hard, flat bench and repeating words written in a book that didn't mean anything to me. I didn't really need to watch a show. It seemed foreign and unfamiliar, and it felt like the other people knew each other--but I was alone.

My bar mitzvah training consisted of a few lonely months in a brand new place to which I had just moved the summer  before. Religious school on Sunday mornings when I was in the 9th and 10th grade seemed mostly irrelevant and a waste of a good weekend day.

I went to Israel in 1974 to get away from college for a while. Although it started out as a grand adventure, I spent nearly all my time on the kibbutz, which became a narrow routine, especially when my half days of Hebrew study ended after six months. I learned that I was very much an American, and although the Israelis and I shared a common heritage we did not share a common upbringing or attitude. 

So--what am I looking for now? Why am I devoting regular time and attention in 2012 to learning more about Judaism?

Well, there are some questions that aren't answered by music--or by what you do at your job. I want to understand more about life--and where I fit (and don't fit). I want to start asking the right kinds of questions. I think that the ancient tradition to which I am an heir is a fine place to start. And I have.

But I think I'll keep music, which is doing just fine, thank you, out of the picture.

Sacred Space

I've been wrapping tefillin now for a little over a month, every day except shabbat. It's a quick process, but has extended little by little as I add a few words of the prayer I say. I now read two of the three paragraphs relating to putting on tefillin.

Today, as I entered the downstairs "office" I've been using, I saw a newspaper with a disturbing headline that I'd left there yesterday. I turned it over. Then, I saw someone's business card with a photo on it. I looked around and saw my mass of clutter--car models, papers, office supplies, junk. Too much distraction.

I realized that, for me, this room is starting to have some importance. It's my mini-shul now, and as that sacred space, it deserves better. So, it's time to clean it up. The table should be uncluttered, the hutch unburdened, the shelves, neat. Because whatever may be happening when I tie those leather straps onto my arm and head, it is putting me in a different frame of mind. That may very well be the entire purpose of doing it. I'll keep on and see.

Welcome to Torah Study

Yesterday, I went to my first Torah study group. I came away with mixed feelings.

It started out with a nice personal tour of the facilities, including the beautiful 100-year-old sanctuary and the brand new, starkly and unapologetically modern chapel, connected by the social hall named after a long-serving former rabbi. 

I joined the group in a classroom at the end of a hall. I arrived in time to find a good seat along the long table. The meeting ended up standing-room-only--probably 35 people. We had bagels with schmear and coffee, courtesy of one of the class members; a list circulated for others to volunteer this service for upcoming weeks. 

The class, I found out later, has been meeting for many years, and there were some obvious "regulars."

So, what was it like? The text for the day was the very beginning of the book of Job, from the Writings. I'd been looking forward to a stimulating, fast-moving study, but I felt there was too much nattering about trivial details before starting the actual examination of Job. I was annoyed by the know-it-all tone of a few of the class members. It reminded me of my mid-college years of sitting in a philosophy class waiting for things to move on. I didn’t have much to add on this first visit, but it seemed that we could have progressed more quickly and focused more on the meaning of the text. After about an hour and a quarter the group broke up--until next time.

There were a lot of elderly people there, and I made me uncomfortable. It felt like a diversion at the Jewish retirement home. As a member of a rock group and what I consider to be a "youthful" 58, it just felt too slow-moving. One ancient woman at the other end of the table stood up (very slowly) to announce her upcoming hip replacement surgery. Sigh. A distinguished-looking older African American man near me, wearing a middle-eastern style kippah, started going on and on about something he deemed relevant from another place in the Torah and the rabbi had to gently refocus the group.

It's quite possible that those who are interested in Torah study tend to be older folks who aren't sitting glued to their Facebook or other electronic social activities. It was only my first time there, and I brought in my own prejudices and habits. I felt that the "students" were blabbing on about their interpretations, but that may very well be what the class is about--to get different views and opinions on the material to somehow illuminate the text for everyone. Perhaps that's the ideal, but when I was a student, I wanted to hear what the teacher had to say, and I found this kind of woolgathering an inpediment. But it may be that I tend toward passivity and acceptance of the words of "experts," when one of the goals of Torah study is to actively question the material. But is fussing over the details beneficial or just intellectual fooling around?

Perhaps a smaller, younger group might work better for me. I'm not sure if I should perhaps visit this group again and try to come back with a different attitude. At the speed it was moving, though, it could take a decade to get through the Torah one time. But maybe there's no hurry.

Exploring Jewish Roots - 2012

With the Jewish Roots Project, I will spend 2012 pursuing a wide and comprehensive view of Jewish life and how it affects me. This subject has come up periodically throughout my life, and I want to devote focus and energy to finding out not only what Judaism is and has been, but how I want to relate to my inherited culture for the rest of my life.

This will involve many processes.

1. Interviewing rabbis, Jewish writers and artists, and anyone else who may have a perspective from which I can learn something.
2. Reading a wide range of materials from novels to histories to religious books as well as periodicals, websites, and whatever else seems relevant.
3. Practicing at least some aspects of the religion, including attending various synagogues, celebrating holidays, exploring Kosher food and wrapping tefillin.
4. Blogging about the experience, while keeping my research findings and project diary private.
5. Growing a nice Jewish beard (my usual length is number 2 on the clipper, but that will be changing).
6. Adding to and changing the project over time as I learn more and get more ideas, but always aiming for daily involvement in some way.
7. Making an assessment on January 1, 2013 as to the next step(s).

Thank you for joining me in this process. Please comment if you have anything you think I should investigate. Shalom and toda raba (thank you).