Nov 10 2007
(X-posted on Just Call me Chaviva)
I decided that — because I’m up for adventure — I’d hit up one of the other Reform synagogues in the area. I like my shul well enough (it sure ain’t home, though), but I like to know what else is out there. So I grabbed some dinner and went to the synagogue, which is conveniently downtown near a convenient El stop. The shul shall remain nameless, simply because … well … my rant will give it away anyway, but I don’t want to call it out. I’m sure they’re doing something right, but beyond the clean, fancy building and the spacious seats, I’m not sure what that “right” is.
There was a tot Shabbat going down, so there were lots of families there. In the main sanctuary I noticed that there were quite a few people my age, mixed in with a lot of your classic, old-school shul folks. I sat down and a friendly fellow walked up and shook my hand, said Shabbat Shalom and walked on. He went a few rows up to two other girls my age and started up a conversation with them. I felt sort of shafted, but let it go. As the sanctuary filled with families and more young people, I felt relieved. Then that friendly guy showed up on the bima! Not only that, but he wasn’t even sporting a kippah. Now, I’m not one to judge, and the great thing about this fancy thing we call Judaism is its freedom and bounty of rituals and traditions. But the rabbi without a yarmulke?
Then I noticed that the organ was tuning up to go. Now, I have an aversion to organs in shul, simply because, well, it’s an organ. It screams of Protestant services. I sat back, and let it go. Then, then came something that almost set me over the edge … there was no cantor. The shul doesn’t have a cantor! It’s HUGE, and it doesn’t have a cantor, let alone a song leader. No, it has a choir, of four people, who sing in operatic fashion to tunes I’ve never heard nor could ever pick up, even if I devoted myself to it 24/7 for the next six months. The harmonies were wild, ridiculous, and to top it off, it disallowed the congregation from participating … no one was singing.
The real kicker came when we got into the traditional, Hebrew aspects of just about every congregation on the planet. These portions were sung by the choir, and the congregation just sat there. Watching. Listening. No participation? When the bar mitzvah got up to read the V’ahavta … he didn’t chant it with the melodic nature that everyone on the planet does … he just read the transliteration. Everyone was all glowing with pride, and I was like “Are you serious? That’s it? You’ve got to be kidding me!” I listen to kids go through the kiddush every week and their squeaky, off tune voices are music to my ears! This kid didn’t even have to try! Mi chamocha, V’sham’ru, both sung by the choir. We just sat there, and I couldn’t even understand the words as they sang them. Then came the T’filah. We rose, and recited … the words … just said them. No tune, no passion, no nothing. Just said them. Then the choir sang the Avot V’Imahot while we just stood there. Once again, I couldn’t even understand them. Where was my service!?
Then there was the fact that the service was … well … out of order. I mean, I know the flow of the service, but there was something convoluted and strange about this service. Things seemed out of place, or things were missing, one or the other. The congregation uses their own “edition” of the URJ siddur. Originally I thought “that’s cool” but then after going through the service (and nearly walking out after about 5 minutes), I realized “not cool.” The word mitzvot is completely missing. The word salvation appears more times than the word the! It is worded strangely and in truth felt more like the Christian services I went to in the days of yore … it made me exceedingly uncomfortable.
Then there was the sermon. The guy … well, I was sort of taken aback at his “analysis” of the Torah portion, which seemed more like him quoting some sages than offering insight. Not only that, but he completely neglected the idea that Abraham becoming old wasn’t to be taken literally, but that it was coupled with becoming the first to gain wisdom, thus growing old. Sigh. And what else? He sounded like a preacher. He had that slow, evangelical drawl thing going on. Not an accent, but that slow, calculated speech that’s almost demeaning.
Afterward I stuck around because they were doing the oneg with the kiddush and motzi. This is one thing that I dislike about my present shul, because there they do the kiddush during services and the challah is completely non-existent. So I was excited, and hopefully. One of the younger guys came up and introduced himself to me and asked if I came around much and stuff. I told him I was a member of a different shul, but this one had piqued my interest. He then proceeded to say “isn’t the rabbi great? He’s probably the best rabbi I’ve ever heard! And he’s our age, he’s only 29!” It then made sense. This guy is fresh meat. Then again, the rabbi that converted me was literally fresh out of rabbinical school and he had a vibrancy and Jewish gusto that lacks comparison!
Oh, and I didn’t even mention the most interesting part. This synagogue doesn’t have Saturday Shabbat services. Instead, it has Sunday morning services a la church. I repeat: No Saturday services, but Sunday services. They rationalize this because you take your kids to Sunday school at the shul, so why not have services then!? Not only that, but it’s a decades-old tradition that just happened to stick around. It seems ludicrous to me, but I guess they have plenty of members, so it must be working somehow. But I think their patronage is a certain type of Jew.
Now, I don’t want to keep this going because it’s already getting long, but attending this shul made me feel like I’d warped back to the early days of the Reform movement where the goal was to mimic the Protestant service. I hate the idea of “Judaism lite,” because most people of the faith would say that that is what I’ve got going on, being a certified member of the Reform movement and all. But the Judaism that I practice is not lite. It might be lite compared to what many Jews do, but I can say it is probably leaps and bounds above what these people do. It was frustrating being there because I wanted to stand up and scream at these people. My favorite parts about the service — the T’filah and the Amidah and the Aleinu — they were all ripped out for the sake of a quartet of opera singers. And what for? The people who attend these services don’t even attend the services. They sit there and hold their prayerbook (which opens like other American/English books, by the way) and watch as the service floats by. I don’t want to say it, but there wasn’t much Jewish about that service. It was generic and edging on preaching the “good word.” Eternal life and salvation. My G-d …
Needless to say, I will not be going back. And if anyone asks, I’ll give them my two cents. I never wanted to become that person … the person who says “you’re not Jewish enough for me,” but it happens and everyone draws those lines — convert or not. It isn’t being hateful or holier than thou, it’s coming to the realization that there are these levels, these pegs on the totem pole. I’ll never be Jewish enough for the Orthodox Israelis, and I’m mostly okay with that. And now I know that this synagogue, in the heart of this city I love, will never be Jewish enough for me. And it makes me uncomfortable to say that, but I’m mostly okay with that, too.
So it’s back to what I’ve come to know … even if there is no motzi.
Loading ...
I know exactly what shul you’re talking about, although I’ve never been there or met the rabbi.
A couple things.
Our 93 year old rabbi does not wear a kippah. He does not find it meaningful and that’s the beauty of the movement.
Doing services on Sunday is a throw back to clasical reform, when the goal was to fit in and be safe. Shabbat was “suspended” until Sunday when our Christian neighbors were also doing Sabbath. It had to do with assimilation and safety. Why a shul would continue, I don’t know, but that is where it came from back in the day.
Leah,
Thank you for your comments! I do know the origins of the Sunday sabbath (which is why I said that the service reminded me of a kickback to the origins of the Reform movement and its Protestant beginnings). I can understand the kippah, I suppose, but like so many things, it is to me a tradition, a connection to the greater community and our rich history and to Jews around the world past and present.
Cheers,
Chavi
I’m probably going to sound like a jerk here, but oh well. What is the point of this post? Is this really something that should be on JBC?
You didn’t like the shul, it sounds like a place I would detest as well. But, other people go there for whatever their reasons and it is their place. People are free to worship, or not worship, as they choose. If you don’t like a shul, get up and leave or chalk it up to a learning experience and move on. Why the need to tear it to shreds in public? And especially the Bar Mitzvah kid. He’s just a kid. What if he were to read your post?
Chaviva
I’m really glad you decided to cross post this to the JBC blog because I think it captures (albeit a little crankishly but cranky is a good thing every once in awhile) how every Jew by choice is constantly reevaluating and situating themselves in terms of their own sense of Jewish identity and how that relates to the broader community.
You wrote.
“I never wanted to become that person … the person who says “you’re not Jewish enough for me,” but it happens and everyone draws those lines — convert or not. It isn’t being hateful or holier than thou, it’s coming to the realization that there are these levels, these pegs on the totem pole. I’ll never be Jewish enough for the Orthodox Israelis, and I’m mostly okay with that. And now I know that this synagogue, in the heart of this city I love, will never be Jewish enough for me. And it makes me uncomfortable to say that, but I’m mostly okay with that, too.”
I think that’s right on the money and it perfectly describes what many of us JBC’s (and indeed maybe all Jews) have to go through. That moment where we realize that on the one hand we aren’t good enough to count as a minyan in some shuls (oh let’s say Orthodox or Chabad) and on the other hand there are shul’s were we just don’t wanna be counted as a minyan even though we do. It is definitely a strange and uncomfortable place to be but I see it as a sign of taking ownership of your Judaism and that’s something I respect.
I for one don’t feel you were slamming that shul, but were simply calling it the way you saw it and that’s your prerogative. You ran into an odd situation with what I can only assume is not your traditional 21st-century Reform shul and you were kind enough to share the insights you gleaned from the experience with us and that in my opinion is neither rude or inappropriate to the blog.
Avi beat me to the comment
I just want to pretty much reiterate what he said.
First, the key word in the title of our blog is “Choice”. You put yourself out there to experience something new, which in my opinion, was very open minded of you. Your experience perhaps revealed pieces of your own sense of Jewish identity that you weren’t yet in touch with. In a way, going there was a gift in that it seems to have reinforced some the values you have or simply wanted to explore further.
As far as appropriate vs. inappropriate…I think you post is fine. I’ve seen posts on this same blog about, for instance, Chabad. Even Yankel put forth his issues with this movement in Judaism but nobody seemed to take serious offense, at least not in my quick skim through the comments. Our passions, views, and notions about Judaism are quite diverse. That is the purpose of this blog. We have liberal Chabadniks (for Yankel
). We have devout reform, we have observant Conservative…it’s wonderful.
The bottom line is that one of the most beautiful things about Judaism and the Jewish people is the diversity. There truly is a place for every kind of Jew, every kind of rabbi. Although I may not always agree, I can respect it. I can say that I experience it too; even in the three or four Jewish communities that Avi and I have chosen to be a part of. Perhaps I should do a little post sharing some of the uniqueness of these.
I think I’m rambling, but just know, this blog is a free space to share your experiences as a Jew. Your thoughts could help some, and perhaps it could ruffle some feathers; however, free speech is a beautiful thing and I don’t find what you said offensive. Sure, some may take offense, but you didn’t name names and your final thoughts were quite honest:
“It isn’t being hateful or holier than thou, it’s coming to the realization that there are these levels, these pegs on the totem pole. I’ll never be Jewish enough for the Orthodox Israelis, and I’m mostly okay with that. And now I know that this synagogue, in the heart of this city I love, will never be Jewish enough for me. And it makes me uncomfortable to say that, but I’m mostly okay with that, too.”
So, thanks for sharing, and for being brave.
Yael, I’m sorry you feel that way. As for what if the kid read what I wrote? Well, I own my posts. If the rabbi or some other congregant reads it, I still own my posts. If someone else wants to go there and dispute my experience, I still own the post. I stand behind everything I write, and I didn’t say anything villainous or libelous or slanderous. I made an observation.
Avi and Tamara, thank you for your insight! For those who have been reading me for some time, this post shows that I’ve grown and am growing!
Shalom, Chavi
Chaviva,
I’m also sorry you feel the way you feel. It is one thing to visit a shul and not like it. It is quite another to think because a place does not appeal to you it must have no redeeming qualities.
As far as the 13-year old goes. I have children. I can well imagine what I would feel as a parent to read someone’s harsh critique of a special moment in our family just because it didn’t meet their standards. A Jewish kid and his family felt it important enough to mark the event with their shul family of him turning 13. How ever pathetic you found the occasion, why not be happy they at least had that much of a connection to their Judaism? Many kids and parents don’t even have that.
IMO your post can only bring hurt to people you don’t even know. I don’t see the point and I stand by my comment, no matter who defends you.
Since this blog is supposed to be a place open to all opinions, I assume that also means mine.
Hi Chavi,
You wrote:
“I never wanted to become that person … the person who says “you’re not Jewish enough for me,” but it happens and everyone draws those lines — convert or not. It isn’t being hateful or holier than thou, it’s coming to the realization that there are these levels, these pegs on the totem pole. I’ll never be Jewish enough for the Orthodox Israelis, and I’m mostly okay with that. And now I know that this synagogue, in the heart of this city I love, will never be Jewish enough for me.”
I know where you are coming from here, but I have some trouble with the way it’s said, because I think there is an enormous difference in what I think/hope you are saying, and what Orthodox people (most, not all) say about non-Orthodox converts. I think this post was meant to reflect your feelings about a style of Jewish service, not the inherent Jewishness of the community, but I think that gets lost in the last paragraph a bit when you talk about everyone drawing lines and making distinctions. I assume you are not suggesting the people at this Classical Reform community aren’t Jewish, but that is precisely what the Orthodox folks I described say about you. There is a fundamental difference between those two positions that is important to articulate.
Look, I am no defender of the Classical Reform approach to Judaism. I am not comfortable with it at all, and I think it has handicapped a whole generation of Jewish adults who want to practice more but were not raised in homes where traditional observance was valued. But I fall short of classifying something as “not Jewish.” Kol Yisrael areivim zeh l’zeh - we are all responsible for our fellow Jews, and that includes those for whom a community like the one you described is home. Their approach may not suit you or I, and we may viscerally react to some of the minhag, but we always have to remember that they are not less Jewish than we are just because they practice a Judaism that feels empty to us.
I assume you meant all of this, and were just noting your discomfort in the styles and all, and that is certainly a fine position to take. I just want to make sure that in doing so it doesn’t come across that “these pegs on the totem pole” are not having their Jewishness denied.
kol tuv!
Yair
Yair,
My point was not that these people are not Jewish, that would be completely off base and inappropriate for me to say. It would be hypocritical and insincere and just absolutely out of my character. What I was trying to get across is that I went to this Reform shul, as a Reform Jew, and felt uncomfortable because it did not feel like a Reform service, it was lacking in those things that I consider a Jewish service period. The service made me uncomfortable and made me realize that there is an amount of observance I am comfortable with and a level of observance I am not uncomfortable with. I firmly believe that people — Jew or not — are welcome to observe and believe however they choose, and I have always felt that way, before I converted and even now. Judge not lest ye be judged, is the old saying.
To all: If I came across as completely bitchy, out of line, or judgemental, then I apologize. As I’ve told Avi, I wrote this post in a flurry of confusion and irritation when I returned home on Shabbat. I’m not one to necessarily deeply edit my work once it is written (despite being an editor by profession), and perhaps I should have. But either way, that’s where I stand.
Shalom,
Chavi
Wow, isn’t life interesting!
Yael, I really don’t understand what has you so rubbed the wrong way. I mean yes I read your reply but so what if that’s the way someone else feels? It’s not as though Chaviva suggesting you should feel the way she does or react in the same way. And yes, you’re absolutely right about this being a place where there is also room for your opinions and they are more than welcome. However you’re reaction strikes me as rather (and I might add unnecessarily) strong (edit: personal was a poor choice if words, sorry). I mean come on, Chavia has not ruined anybody’s bar mitzvah, nor has she said anything that hasn’t already been said about Reform many times before. Ultimately, this post is no worse in my opinion then yankels post about Chabad. So why get upset about this one and not that one?
Chaviva, again let me reiterate I personally loved your post. Not because I think it slams Reform because it really doesn’t. What it does is capture that very netherworld that eventually (at least I believe) all Jews by choice eventually find themselves in. Namely that place where one has grown into their own sense of Jewish identity to the point where, they start to question some of the practices around them. It’s probably not politically correct, but so what? It’s something that happens and is a legitimate topic worthy of exploration in general and certainly on our blog. Having said all of that, I kind of feel bad because I talked you into cross posting it here because I thought it was a good fit and am sorry if doing so has caused you any grief.
As for sometimes feeling like others are “not Jewish” or “less Jewish” I think that’s part of finding our way into Jewish life. There are certainly people I have a hard time taking serious as Jews and I have no doubt that there are many people who feel the same way about me. Like it or not that’s just part of Jewish life and I’m okay with it. More importantly, I think it’s a healthy thing to talk about. Yes this post was written as something of a knee-jerk reaction but everyone has knee-jerk reactions. In fact I would suggest that some of the comments this post elicited, are in fact the same kind of knee-jerk reactions themselves. I certainly don’t think this was a bigoted post or malicious in intent. It was simply one person’s honest attempt at processing a situation that challenged her perceptions of Jewish community and identity.
And as far as I’m concerned that is indeed legitimate, good and healthy.
I for one, a JewByBirth, am consistently challenged in my beliefs and how I interact with Jews who have other ways of “being” Jewish. For the record, even JBBs evaluate, search, seek, and hopefully find where they fit. Some of us were raised one way by our parents and our now discovering we want to do differently or that we connect in a different way. I was mostly raised Reform, then wasn’t connected at all, then attended Chabad for a long time, though was never a Chabadnik, and now I find myself fitting (mostly) comfortably into Conservative Judaism. I think this might be a phenomenon to look further into. I mean, we (I’m in my 30’s) are of a generation of parents who were the children of immigrants and oftentimes the parents of Holocaust survivors, who in many cases, left much of the tradition in the ‘old country’. Or, when they immigrated, as is my grandparents case, believed deeply in American assimilation. Our generation is now finding it’s OWN way I believe.
In my family, my understanding is that there were some quite religious ancestors in Poland. My grandparents came to the US in the early 20’s. They kept kosher but did not religiously attend shul. My father was expected to be Bar Mitzvah, and he did so at an Orthodox shul though my brothers and I were raised in a completely Reform home. I would say observant reform in that we went to shul more than the high holidays but not necessarily monthly. We were required to attend Hebrew school and Bar/Bat Mitzvah. And now, we are the next generation raising children. Of my 2 living brothers and 3 step sisters, only one family requires their kids to go to Hebrew school, they happen to be Reform. One family has one of their 3 kids in Hebrew school. The rest of the kids were given the choice to go… and so they don’t. I’m proud to say that when, G-d willing, Avi and I have children, they will HAVE to go to Hebrew school. We both feel it is our duty to give them this foundation….
Oy, I’m rambling, my point is we are all seeking, searching, finding, settling into our own rituals, traditions and paths. And the beautiful thing of it all is that no matter which way we go, we are all Jews; and for that we must stick together. We must stick together even when there are certain people or groups who don’t believe in us or whom we don’t believe in. And, when we do that, we become a more whole people for it.
Hi all. I had the same reaction to this post as Yael did. While I think having opinions about certain synagogues is our right, I believe we have a responsibility as bloggers to stop and think how our words will be read. I think that researching the history of the temple in question before going off on its practices would have been a more responsible approach. I wouldn’t think of visiting another Conservative synagogue and calling it “not Jewish enough” without thoroughly researching its history, getting to know its demographic, etc. I’m sure that if I visited certain Reform shuls, I’d find them less traditional than my USCJ shul–but I would be responsible enough not to be offensive.
Samuel
ChavyJo:
1) While I have great respect for the principles of the Reform movement and their intellectually honest approach to Judaism, I must say that their services leave me cold. Too much English and too many shortcuts for this Jew’s taste. Most Reform services I’ve been to have felt like some washed-out clone of a Protestant service. So for me too, it just isn’t Jewish enough. Now, I’m not saying Reform isn’t authentic Judaism; obviously it is and, just as obviously, it an important component of modern Judaism. I’m just saying that their services leave me cold. This is purely an emotional and aesthetic reaction that needs, in my opinion, no research to justify it.
2) You’ve taken a certain amount of heat for your post and I feel it is unfair. Lively, public and loud debate, especially about religious matters, is a Jewish tradition older than the Talmud. It’s so prevalent it is almost a stereotype, and certainly the subject of many jokes. You have every right, imho, to hold the opinions you hold and to voice them in whatever forum you wish to in as loud a voice as you feel appropriate (of course, you’ve got to be prepared to take the heat when you do). Lively and intense debate is at the heart of Jewish tradition. It is what keeps the faith vibrant and alive. Your post, I feel, was in that spirit, and certainly what you said isn’t something that hasn’t been said by many other people many times before.
Also, I wouldn’t be so worried about how your words might effect that Bar Mitzvah boy out there. Most kids are tougher than that, especially Jewish kids, and if he did care enough to take what you said to heart, he’d probably have a comeback for you that would curl your hair. Snappy comebacks, too, are an ancient and venerable Jewish tradition.
I’ve not been to any synagogues that are that far towards that end of the spectrum. I’ve only been to a handful of Reform services, but I’ve never been to one that “felt right.” I know that “Reform” is a broad target and there are plenty of wonderful communities out there, it’s just not comfortable for me.
The first time I attended a Reform service I was on vacation in rural New England. I was completely floored to realize that they were not going to using Hebrew texts for more than 5% of the service. I knew objectively that there were many synagogues out there like that, but the first time in one was distressing. I felt I’d put so many years into learning to daven in Hebrew that it was scandalous to be in a roomful of Jews who’d thrown in the towel. (My 6 year old daughter started singing the kiddush in Hebrew at the appropriate time and every head in the place turned to stare at us.)
I certainly don’t intend to judge you, but I think the best thing to do when you’re confronted by a situation you find so challenging is to look hard at why it makes you uncomfortable. You can learn a lot about your attitudes about Klal Israel by carefully observing yourself when in the presence of those you feel are most unlike you. This works equally well when you’re in the presence of those to the right of you as well. Take it as an opportunity to learn. (Just my humbly offered advice.) You can learn a lot about yourself that you would not have the opportunity to learn in the comfort of your home shul.
I really only offer this to you as a way to uplift a situation that is not ideal. I’ve learned to carry my own siddur whenever possible when going to an unknown shul (i.e. - vacations) = that way I can be certain that I can daven comfortably no matter what the other 9+ people are up to. It’s still better to daven in an “odd” minyan than piously by yourself in a hotel room. Take the back of the room, and quietly daven in the manner you’re accustomed to. It’s powerfully affirming to take ownership of your tefillah.
Just my 2 cents worth.
Samuel you (and maybe Yael did as well and I just missed it) bring up a good point, at least indirectly about Klal Yisrael. I mean, in that ideally one (as a Jew) should stop and consider how his or her actions are going to potentially affect the rest of the tribe. From this point of view you are correct about responsibility and choice of words. And for that I thank you for pointing this out and I will try to keep that in mind when posting things in the future. However, I hang out with a lot of Jew’s (of all ilks) and I’ve learned that being offensive is something of a long standing Jewish tradition it’s self. LOL. (note: it seems Yankel beat me to the punch on this one)
Seriously though, I suppose, I just see this post in a different light than some of it’s other readers but your points are indeed taken. Also maybe a little research might have saved Chaviva from a bad night out. but regardless at least for me, that last paragraph is truly meaningful and the real point behind the post. It’s a nice slice of messy jewish life and it highlights something I think all serious JBC’s go through. An important part of this is that we all learn to own our Judaism and this means that (as JBC’s) sometimes we are not seen as true Jew’s by others, and some times this means (that in the heat of the moment and right or wrong) we don’t see others as true Jews. It’s an odd place to be and even though it may not be pleasing to G-D or seen as PC, it does happen and needs to be looked at and worked through if we are going to come out he other side.
Who know’s, maybe I’m wrong on this one?
I just read this post a second time, and I’m still bothered by its relevance. Although Chaviva states that she is not saying the people at this temple are not Jewish, the title of the post is “The Synagogue That Wasn’t,” which pretty much implies that those inside “aren’t” either. With statements like “It screams of Protestant services,” the relevance worsens to an embarrassing point. There seems to be a lot of hate in this post–I don’t know if it’s hate from Chaviva’s own exclusion by other temples (none seem to be as good as her home shul) or what. I know that this temple has a JBC program, too, and that people might come here on their road to conversion and see a post like this. My main point is that I read quite a few JBC blogs (Accidentally Jewish, Tikkunger, etc.) and I’ve never encountered this sort of acidic commentary on them. To see it here kind of leaves a bad taste in my mouth.
Sam
Perhaps I should completely ax this post, as it has riled ire in just about every reader.
I can’t stress enough how this post was written quickly and with the haste of disappointment and stress that this shul caused me. “The Synagogue That Wasn’t” is meant to say that the synagogue wasn’t what I thought it was, or rather, for me, the synagogue didn’t live up to the standards I had set for it. I did plenty of looking into this synagogue before I went. When I first moved here, it was one of the shuls I was looking at, but I found my present temple prior to making it to it. I knew that they did Sunday morning services.
If one of their JBCs decides to pop over to our friendly website and reads this post, then so be it. It is my point of view from having attended a bounty of other Reform synagogues in Chicago, Denver, Washington D.C., etc. I was relating the difference, and if my voice in the post is agitated, then I apologize, but I do not think that writing a sympathetic piece about my frustration would help anyone, and it would most definitely not be written from my voice — it would be a patronizing tone for the sake of the community. I’ve always been a blunt, honest person, and for that I have maintained friendships and communique with people in person and via the web. It is how I am known to be.
But if this post is that offensive to so many people, perhaps we can cut out the entire text, with a link to my personal blog, and just leave the last bit. With a disclaimer that if passersby want to read the meat of what pissed everyone off, they can traffic themselves to my personal blog, and that way the JBC folk don’t have to be affiliated with the dredge.
Nope–leave it. The post sparks debate. If everyone just gave lip service to the same ideas, life would be boring. I like hearing about the varieties of ways people practice Judaism. My own Reform congregation sometimes feels like Jewish-lite, just because we do not have a rabbi, and we sometimes fall back on a lot of English, depending on the lay speaker and his or her preferences. However, I am glad we have a community, and I respect our lay speakers and their choices. I enjoy this site primarily because of the different opinions stated and would be sad to see some super-editing-and-whitewashing of ideas happen here. Thank you all for your thoughts.
ChavyJo,
I would have been unable, I think, to tolerate a synagogue with a choir, organ, and a rabbi without a kippah. I do not seem to go well with Reform service in general (I went to a fairly traditional Conservative synagogue first with no instruments in the evening or morning service, and no cantor).
Cantors tend to make the whole service seem too impersonal to me. I know some synagogues have regular cantors, but I’ve always been fortunate enough to have synagogues where the songs and prayer melodies can be chanted by the rabbi in a manner that other people can follow and participate in without being overwhelmed. Maybe it’s just where I live (and I certainly won’t avoid visiting a synagogue elsewhere due to the presence of a cantor), but usually Reform has always reminded me too much of a church - something I am just not interested in. And this sounds like an extreme of that tendency. And I can identify with your disdain at their removal of the Alenu and the Amidah - I get irritated with the local Reform synagogues having eliminated certain prayers I was used to and adored in other synagogues - even liberal Conservative doesn’t seem to have some prayers I thought were essential to keeping the service vigorous enough.
You went to a synagogue, and you didn’t like it. We all have our preferences. I don’t like instruments being used in place of chanting and clapping or stamping feet. I still go to synagogues that do that, but I obviously don’t have favor for it. Everyone has their preferences.
You have very right to be distasteful as to what they consider a “proper” Bar Mitzvah. He had a year of training to get melodies and everything else down. Now, there are considerations that might have changed the circumstances - a learning disability or a speech impediment that makes the melodies too difficult - but chances are it was just a boy who hadn’t bothered learning everything as properly as he could have, and you’re right - that would be a very strange Bar Mitzvah, even from a Reform standpoint.
As for the past comments you have had to deal with… Journalism (and this is a form of journalism) is about reporting the truth, your opinions, and your beliefs. You have no need to feel ashamed for what you wrote. You did not make anything up, and you did not say anyone was doing anything wrong - just things that you agree with. Therefore, any comments that just find what you’re saying about a Bar Mitzvah aren’t really necessary… If you remained entirely unemotional throughout your post rather than writing how you felt or how it impacted you, it would not have been something readable by an audience at any rate.
Sarah,
Thanks for your thoughts. I actually really love the cantoral aspect of the service, especially if you have an amazing chazzan (like I now have at my Conservative shul). A very good, classic chazzan has this voice that can take you back to the shtetl shul, even if you have no idea what that feels like. It’s absolutely beautiful.
As a journalist (my degree is in journalism), I can say that some of what is posted on here is definitely personal journalism, but journalism at its core is not about expressing one’s own opinions. You can report on something, which we do here, and not express opinions, but simply state the facts — Avi does this often. However, much of what we do on here is op/ed, which isn’t necessarily journalism. But I can understand what you mean.
Thanks again
-Chavi
Wow! Did some just call me objective?
Hummm. If so, I don’t know that I’ve ever been called that before.