Scroll, February 2010
From the Rabbi
THE BIMAH BALANCING ACT
Adat Shalom’s Shabbat morning service is by far our highest attended, most
community-defining, biggest single event in a typical week. Though it
constitutes a small fraction of clergy time, it is the most visible thing we
routinely do –- so a lot of thought should (and does) go into what each Shabbat
service looks and feels like.
As most of us know, most Saturday services share a few common main
features: the Shacharit liturgy (largely sung and chanted) for the first hour or so,
through the Amidah and the Torah service; a learning and sharing time
(usually in the 10:30-11:00 range); our Torah and Haftarah reading (including any
and all simchas that day), roughly from 11 to noon; then the brief closing
liturgy, introductions, announcements, and our farewell.
That’s the default outline, from which we diverge fairly often. But even
within it, the choices are legion: more time for singing, or celebrating, or
studying? More traditional Hebrew davenning, or more English readings? More
traditional nusach/melody, or more contemporary participatory musical
settings? Our tradeoffs are less within a service than between them — no single
Saturday morning is truly typical; no one service can showcase all the breadth
and all the depth we hope to convey, in all the areas which we prize.
As rabbi, my own inter-service balancing act is on what themes to highlight
in each D’var Torah Discussion (which itself can be from 5 to 45 minutes,
depending on the week). This is actually our single biggest adult education
effort, with more “contact-hours” of Adat Shalom grownups learning Torah
there than in all our classes, programs and special events combined. It’s a
smorgasbord of Torah, in bite-size installments. And for me and other
service-leaders, choosing each installment presents an awesome responsibility, and a
delightful opportunity.
Conscious that what most interests some of us can leave others high and
dry, and vice versa, I try to mix it up. In lifting up relevant and interesting
insights (and questions) from whatever block of text is on the table that
morning, I find myself choosing among three broad categories of themes: (a)
psycho-spiritual, exploring the inner and interpersonal implications of our
parasha; (b) social-political, looking at ancient perspectives to inform our
actions vis-à-vis today’s great issues; and (c) textual-intellectual or
Torah Lishmah (for its own sake), deepening our knowledge and love of our rich
tradition.
A recent illustration, in light of our 5770 ‘meta-theme’ of the
16th-Century Yiddish Tzena Urena’s explanation of the Torah: Reviewing its commentary
on the couple dozen verses we would read on Shabbat morning, my “finalist”
topics were [a] Moses’ and our abilities to lose sight of important
priorities; [b] class issues, with “poverty being equal to death”; and [c] a close
reading of a fascinating midrash on circumcision. All were rooted solidly in
the weekly Torah reading, and in the Tzena Urena’s contributions thereto; all
could and would touch on community, so central to the Adat Shalom /
Reconstructionist approach. A tough choice! That week [a], the psycho-spiritual
approach won; another week, it could have been different.
Ideally, every service includes something that touches us at a variety of
levels (including these three). With so many visitors and prospective members
at any given time, we do try to offer a taste of the community’s core
values and approaches, each week. But there’s usually only room to really focus
on one. I might choose a topic that’s particularly timely, or when the
textual “hook” is too juicy to resist — but just as often, it’s about that
multi-week balancing act.
I hope that you’ll keep coming back on successive Shabbatot, to discern the
pattern. Though every topic can’t be of ultimate interest to every member,
I do hope that you gain something of value every time. And I welcome your
input and perspective, about the D’var Torah Dialogue, as well as during it.
Looking forward to sharing much Torah with you, in 2010 and beyond.
• Fred Scherlinder Dobb Rabbi
____________________________
Rabbi George’s Reflections
EXPERIENCING THE HEBREW BIBLE IN ENGLISH
This fall I have been teaching a thirteen-session course at Adat Shalom
called “Reading and Translating the Hebrew Bible”. UCLA Professor Robert Alter
inspired this course. Last spring he gave a series of lectures co-sponsored
by Adas Israel and the Foundation for Jewish Studies. In them he laid out
the principles he arrived at and relied upon in translating the biblical “Five
Books of Moses”, “The David Story”, and “Psalms”. In my view, these
liberally annotated works are the most exciting translations of biblical books that
have been published in my lifetime. I wanted to share that excitement and
to closely study Alter’s work, and, thanks to Rabbi Fred and our Adult
Education Committee, I have been privileged to do both. Happily, a group of smart
and savvy readers have joined in this exercise on Monday mornings. They and
Professor Alter have been my teachers. It has been great fun … and it’s not
over yet.
Briefly, in what follows, I set out some distinctions between Alter’s
approach and that of most other translators, including the New Jewish Publication
Society (NJPS) translation used in our sanctuary (with Plaut’s commentary)
and in many of our homes. Then I discuss Alter’s annotations, which have
contributed greatly to our understanding and appreciation of the biblical text.
Alter’s fundamental commitment is to the extent possible to render in
English the experience that a Jewish reader at the time (or times) would have had
with the text when it was written. The Hebrew Bible, writes Alter, is not
composed in “street” or even “journalistic” language, but rather, a “middle”
diction between spoken and literary Hebrew. The Bible uses a distinct and
limited vocabulary composed of words that a literate Judean would have
understood but that do not encompass by any means all of that vocabulary. So
Alter’s translation does not use colloquial English and does not eschew occasional
archaisms (like “eschew”), especially where the Bible deliberately uses
slightly archaic, poetic diction. The result is an elegant, readable
translation that in some ways feels more like the King James Version (KJV) than some
contemporary ones. However, thanks to recent advances in our knowledge of
ancient Hebrew, Alter’s translation is often more faithful to the original than
the KJV.
Precision is the hallmark of Alter’s work. No matter how embarrassing or
strange a precise and faithful rendering of a word or phrase may appear to a
modern reader, Alter presents it. Take the banished Hagar narrative for
example, and recall what Hagar did with Ishmael when, exhausted, she lay down
near a bush in the desert. The NJPS says, “she left” the child “under a bush.”
But that’s not the sense of the Hebrew word that describes her action.
Rather, Alter translates the phrase as “she flung the child under a bush,”
because that’s what the Hebrew says, however outlandish it may seem. The Hebrew
word in question describes what Pharaoh commanded the Israelites to do to
newborn boys, whereas Alter’s translation comports with the meaning that the
underlying root has elsewhere.
In light of his objective, Alter argues that a translator should strive to
be consistent. If a word is translated as “lad” at one point, for example,
it should ordinarily be translated the same way elsewhere, lest one lose the
wordplay that is apparent in the original Hebrew. So if Isaac is a “lad” at
the outset of the journey to Mount Moriah where he is to be sacrificed, then
the “servants” (NJPS) should also be called “lads” (Alter) because the same
Hebrew word identifies the other two people who journeyed to the base of
the mountain. Alter insists that the use of the same word for Abraham’s “lads”
and for Isaac is a deliberate wordplay, clear in the Hebrew and
recognizable in English.
For the same reason, Alter warns against substituting abstract English
terms for very concrete ones in Hebrew. A translator often does this to explain
the meaning, but, says Alter, that blinds the reader to the metaphor and
imagery in which the Hebrew text abounds. For example, take the passage in
Genesis describing how Judah’s son Onan avoided impregnating his deceased
brother’s wife. (Onan did not want to perform the levirate rite, which required a
man to beget offspring through his deceased brother’s widow.) The New
Revised Standard (Christian) version says, “Judah said to Onan … [perform the
levirate duty and] raise up offspring for your brother. But he spilled his semen
on the ground … so that he would not give offspring to his brother.” The
NJPS similarly twice uses the term “offspring”. But the Hebrew uses the same
word, “zera”, in all three instances. “Zera” is a word that a tradition going
back to the King James Bible has been translated as “seed”. Alter
translates Judah’s command to his son as “raise up seed for your brother”, but Onan
“would waste his seed on the ground so as to give no seed to his brother”.
The Biblical Hebrew word “zera” denotes semen, offspring (or descendants), and
seed in the agricultural sense. From a literary standpoint, “seed” is the
better choice in the Onan episode because that is the term the Torah
consistently uses to describe God’s covenant with Abraham, promising “to your seed
will I give this land”, and later likening his “seed” to the dust of the
earth and the countless stars in the sky. Stars and dust grains, be it
remembered, are numerous and are also white, as is semen.
Another example illustrates the point further. Recall the brothers’ plot to
kill Joseph when, upon Jacob’s errand, he came upon them where they were
pasturing their flocks. Reuben, according to the NJPS, “tried to save him from
them”. But literally the Hebrew text says Reuben sought to rescue him “from
their hands”. The word “hand” occurs often in the Joseph story, but in
other translations it is repeatedly suppressed in favor of abstract
explanations. In the encounter with the brothers, for example, the Hebrew quotes Reuben
as saying “a hand do not raise against him”, and “our hand should not be
against him”. But it is their hands that would have implemented the murder
plot, that flung him into the pit, and that dipped his cloak in the blood of a
kid. So here explanation and abstraction deprive the text of an irony and
immediacy that the Hebrew conveys, and that, because “hand” also conveys ideas
of power and authority, also cuts off connections to Joseph’s role in
Potiphar’s house (he left everything in Joseph’s “hands”; the fleeing Joseph left
his garment in Potiphar’s wife’s “hand”). Often with, but even without a
reader’s conscious awareness, these visual connections intensify the experience
that reading the Bible in Hebrew or in a translation that closely tracks
the Hebrew affords.
All of this beautiful, metaphoric imagery is lost by the insistence here
and elsewhere of most modern translators on explaining the text and
substituting abstract nouns for the gloriously concrete Hebrew lest the reader not
understand. Those translators may be right in some instances, of course. Not
every Bible reader, used to TV and to written “news” that is immediately
comprehensible, will “get” the meaning of a biblical passage if key words are
rendered rather than explained. But explanation deprives the reader of the
wonderful connective echoes in which the Hebrew text abounds.
Alter identifies other barriers that translators often erect between the
reader and the experience of the Hebrew text. The introduction of synonyms or
phrases to avoid the repetitive use of a word in the original is one.
English is a rich language with an enormous number of words, and our writers
delight in using them. Indeed, writers are taught to avoid repetition to prevent
boredom and the implication that their vocabularies are inadequate. But the
genius of the biblical authors is that they artfully made a distinctly
limited vocabulary convey a plethora of meanings and draw connections that are
lost in the lust for novelty. Moreover, Alter points out, this practice often
suppresses the cadence of the original and deprives the reader of the
insistent thrust and energy that repetition conveys in the Hebrew. For example,
examine the description of Rebecca’s encounter with Abraham’s servant at the
well.
“And she said, ‘Drink my lord’, and she hurried and lowered her jug onto
her hand and let him drink. And she let him drink his fill and said, ‘For your
camels, too, I shall draw water until they drink their fill.’ And she
hurried and emptied her jug into the trough and she ran again to the well to draw
water and drew water for all his camels.” (Genesis 22:17-20, Alter
Translation)
Hearing the word “and” repeated with such frequency at every turn creates
the impression of enormous energy in the young woman who was to be Isaac’s
wife and the ancestor of us all, an impression that might have been
deliberate.
Alter’s translation principles result in elegant texts that are entirely
readable and yet suggest great antiquity. Of even greater importance to our
class, Alter provides extensive footnotes. We are reading “The Story of
David”, which encompasses the Books of Samuel and the portion of 1 Kings that
tells of David’s death. Alter’s footnotes have incomparably enriched our
appreciation of the narrative. The footnotes explain some of Alter’s choices
between competing translations of words and phrases. But much more important are
Alter’s fascinating observations of the character and personality of each of
the important figures —Samuel, Saul, Jonathan, and David— whose lives are
depicted in these books, and whose strengths and shortcomings Alter infers
from their words and actions as the narrative proceeds and from their
interaction with minor characters. The commentary draws not only upon the classical
Jewish mephorshim —Rashi, Ibn Ezra, Ramban, and the rest— but also from a
wide variety of other sources, including modern archaeology, philology, and
biblical criticism. He calls our attention to repeated patterns in the biblical
text and to the Hebrew wordplay that we might otherwise miss. All in all,
Alter’s work has immensely enhanced our pleasure and understanding of the
portion of the Bible we are so closely studying.
Some of the students in this class have been learning together for a good
many years; a few signed on only recently. I am firmly convinced that all of
them love the biblical text, as do I, else why would they happily join in
such close reading of it week after week and year after year? Truth to tell,
love of the Tanakh has been a hallmark of the Jewish people’s relation to our
sacred texts through the millennia. That is why Bible study remains alive
and well among those of us who doubt the historical accuracy, even the
possibility, of many of the events it relates and reject the validity of some of
its teachings. We are grateful to the fine, contemporary scholars whose
ingenious and Herculean work has so profoundly enriched our experience with this
great and enduring document of our people and its daughter religions.
Professor Robert Alter ranks at the very top of this pantheon. We thank him and
those who brought him to our area to share his insights with us all.
Rabbi George
____________________________
Message from the President
New Year’s Resolutions
Every people, Jewish and non-Jewish, are confronted nowadays with the
problem of living in two civilizations. They have to blend a historic
civilization with the modern national civilization of the country in which they live.
— Mordecai Kaplan, The Principles of Reconstructionism
I have never been overly troubled by the “two-civilizations problem”. After
all I celebrate July 4th without diminishing my Jewish consciousness, and I
have always felt free to acknowledge my Jewish identity without detracting
from my sense of national civilization. Even Christmas does not create a
two-civilization angst — the only tension I feel on December 25th is deciding
which movie to see, and finding a Chinese restaurant without a two-hour wait.
The one secular holiday that crosses the two-civilization threshold for me
is New Year’s Day. Only a few months ago I celebrated Rosh Hashanah and
engaged in serious reflection on how I could live in a manner more true to my
Jewish values. Now I am at the start of another new cycle, thinking of
personal goals for 2010. New Year’s resolutions are, admittedly, a faint echo of
the deep reflection we engage in during the High Holy Days. I have never heard
a Rosh Hashanah sermon from Rabbi Fred on why we should lose the extra
pounds we added in the last year.
While there are common elements in both holidays, I found myself thinking
more about how to bridge the gap between them. The answer for me was that I
could blend the two civilizations if I were to enrich my New Year’s
resolutions so they had something close to the moral fiber of my High Holy Day
commitments. Two issues came to mind.
The first is the challenge I put to our congregation in my Kol Nidre
remarks to take our home on Persimmon Tree Lane to a new level of environmental
excellence. Technology and the economics of progressive building practices
have advanced over the past decade so that today we can help heal our planet,
and do so in a fiscally sound manner.
At Adat Shalom the project that will take us toward that goal is clean,
solar power electricity. We have invited potential investors to assess the
feasibility of putting solar panels on the roof of our classroom wing which
would generate, on a sustainable basis, about 10% of our average daily
electricity consumption. The classroom wing roof is sloped to face south which makes
it an ideal candidate. The remaining roof sections are flat, and some need
repair before solar panels can be installed. With a fully deployed system,
over one-third of our average daily electric usage would be powered by the sun.
The technology is straight-forward but capturing the available economic
incentives is not. So, my first resolution: Work with and support the investors
group so that solar panels are installed on the roof of our building by the
end of 2010.
My second resolution is sourced in a different year-end phenomena — the
flood of letters and emails we receive from non-profits asking us to donate
before December 31st. It is a difficult process for me, at times a
heartbreaking one, to sort through the pile and reject pleas from many worthy causes.
Two of the organizations I did decide to contribute to were the Jewish
Reconstructionist Federation (JRF) and the Reconstructionist Rabbinical College
(RRC).
Out of curiosity, I visited the JRF and RRC web sites before I put the
checks in the mail. Even though I knew these are vital and highly credible
organizations, I was surprised at how little I actually knew about the stellar
work being done by the bodies guiding the Reconstructionist movement.
We all have heard about Camp JRF and how that experience has strengthened a
sense of Jewish identity for so many of our young folks. But did you also
know the RRC has established three unique centers for advanced Judaic
studies: The Center for Aging & Judaism (Hiddur), The Center for Jewish Women’s &
Gender Studies (Kolot), and the Center for Jewish Ethics? We are part of a
movement that is doing leading-edge work on a wide range of issues that
confront us as 21st century, two-civilization Reconstructionists. It is work all
of us should be aware of and involved in.
So, my second resolution: Educate our membership about the modern
Reconstructionist movement, and Adat Shalom’s place within that world.
Look for articles on these topics in upcoming editions of the Scroll from
some of our well-placed folks. Shalom and Happy New Year.
Bill Halpern
____________________________
Introducing the Mishnah Garden
Last month, you may have noticed, outside the Social Hall entrance, two
areas of bare ground cordoned off with yellow crime tape and signs proclaiming
“Do not Disturb the Garden.” Though it is bare now, be ready to track
nature’s cycles as we watch the Garden yet erupt in a variety of vegetables and
herbs. Here are the ten most Frequently Asked Questions about the Mishnah
Garden.
1. What is the purpose of the Mishnah Garden ?
Education, Ecology, and Empathy. Education, since so much of our tradition
is agrarian — we’ll literally learn the Mishnah (and Bible, and modern
Zionist literature, and…) while sowing and reaping. Ecology, as a place for Adat
Shalom to grow vegetables and herbs with our own hands, locally and in
low-impact ways, to be used in our Onegs and holiday events as a celebration of
sustainability. Empathy, as part of our social action program, reaching out
to those in need by donating some of our produce to local food banks and
shelters. As part of (our Legacy Heritage grant-funded initiative) “Honoring our
Holidays, Caring for Creation”, the Mishnah Garden also serves as a
launching point for increased intergenerational activity and connection
opportunities within Adat Shalom.
2. What has been done so far?
On two Sundays in November, a multigenerational crew of members and friends
dug out the outline of the Mishnah Garden. They shoveled and roto-tilled
two truckloads of Eastern Shore horse manure to enrich the soil. At gro
undbreaking, Rabbi Fred started the event with the Shehecheyanu, and Jewish
educator Mat Tonti (who is partnering with us on “Honoring our Holidays, Caring for
Creation”) led us in the old Yiddish folksong, “Inch by Inch.”
3. What will be grown?
All Adat Shalom members who would like to participate may join the new
Mishnah Garden Team, which will decide what we plant. More likely than not, one
area will include several varieties of tomatoes, cucumbers, peppers, squash,
broccoli, and the other will include lettuce, greens, melons, and herbs. We
will also devote some space to growing some of the biblical “seven
species”, holiday-themed produce like parsley for Pesach, and other educational
edibles.
4. Why are we doing this?
Adat Shalom is our home, both spiritually and physically. We want to show
that our land can be a place to grow good nutritious food, educate our
students and each other, and help those in need. We also want to be good stewards
of our land, in which low-impact gardening (and composting) plays a major
role.
5. Who will eat the vegetables and herbs?
We will — at our Onegs and holiday celebrations. There’s nothing like
eating food that you helped grow with your own two hands. We will also donate
some of what we grow to organizations that help the hungry, such as Manna and
the DC Central Kitchen (under-privileged communities especially lack access
to fresh produce, so this is a particularly meaningful way enact Tikkun
Olam).
6. What’s the connection with the Torah School?
During the year, we plan to work together with our students in planting and
harvesting our crops — for all our families, as well as through the Torah
School on a grade-by-grade basis. Where possible we will tie the gardening
into the curriculum, around holidays and values and sacred texts alike.
7. What about deer and other vegetable predators?
Expect to see fencing with a gate coming up soon, to keep out the two main
predators, deer and rabbits.
8. Is the Mishnah Garden part of a bigger vision?
Yes in two ways. First, it is part of our “Honoring Our Holidays, Caring
For Creation” project, which involves the community in multigenerational
learning and activities. Supported by a generous grant from the Legacy Heritage
Innovation Project, this multi-year endeavor will soon involve every facet of
our community. Along with helping us implement meaningful new educational
programs, the initiative’s larger objectives include connecting diverse age
groups within the congregation, fostering ever-greater collaboration among
staff and lay leaders, and integrating Jewish learning with Jewish living.
9. And the second piece of the vision?
The Mishnah Garden is also all about tikkun olam: it connects us to the
“local food” movement, making us more aware of the ecological and social issues
around our food supply, and puts our land to productive use. Plus, by
donating our food to organizations that help the hungry, we become part of the
nationwide Plant a Row for the Hungry program. In the U.S., 33 million people
(including 13 million children) have substandard diets, or must resort to
seeking emergency food because they cannot always afford the food they need.
Since 1995, our nation’s gardeners have donated over 14 million pounds of
vegetables directly to food banks and shelters through this program
(http://www.gardenwriters.org/
to put its soil and its soul into such a sacred effort.
10. How can I help?
Become part of the Mishnah Garden Team. The Team doesn’t like meetings (!),
so most all the planning will be by e-mail and phone calls. If you only
want to be involved in specific tasks like planting, weeding, watering,
harvesting, dropping off food, and speaking to other Adat Shalom groups (Torah
School for example), there will be a bulletin board and sign-up lists in the
synagogue soon, as well as on our list-serve and the web site. For now, contact
Fred Pinkney,
• Fred Pinkney and the Mishnah Garden Team