On July 3rd I chanted a portion from the Torah. It was a short portion (Numbers 27:1-5) not following any of the usual schemes for breaking readings up, but it seemed like plenty to me. It went just fine, though - I don't think I made any mistakes, or at least not any big enough to get corrected, and everyone thought I did well, including my teacher, who acted as gabbai (meaning that he would have been the one to correct me had I messed up).
The service itself was rather unusual. Once a month we have a contemplative service. I hadn't been before. Rather than going through most of the traditional liturgy with a few changes and additions to accommodate the congregation's progressive, egalitarian bent, which is what most services are like, the contemplative service focuses on a few lines from each section. The group repeats these lines several times, as a chant, which is more meditative than the regular service. Normally there wouldn't be a Torah reading, but this time there wasn't a regular service, because of the usual low attendance over the summer (this is a fairly young congregation, and many of the families are on vacation now that school's out). So I chanted for the contemplative group. This was a bit odd because I was the only reader and because we placed the scroll on a sort of over-sized cart they use to store the kids' books and games, which was in the middle of a circle of chairs, and everybody (about 20 people) gathered around to give the blessing. Perhaps if you haven't been to a Jewish service before you don't get how unusual that is, but normally it's a much more formal affair, and almost everybody would stay in their chairs. It was a warm group though, with a lot of humor.
The funniest bit was that normally there would be a section at the beginning of the service where we repeat the morning blessings, although in an egalitarian and more positive fashion (rather than giving thanks for 'not making me a slave' it's 'for making me free' and we omit the bit about not being a woman). But instead of that we said the beginning in Hebrew and added our own blessings. It started off with general stuff, but got silly pretty fast, as follows:
"...for Jewish humor."
"for amazing students." (my teacher)
"for teachers." (me)
"for subtlety."
The style of the Torah study that's part of the contemplative service is different as well. Each person speaks and everyone listens, but it's not supposed to be a dialog. And it comes from a more personal place, rather than the legalistic and technicalities of Hebrew that often are the focus in other groups.
It took me over a week to post this because I'm not quite sure I've fully processed this. My mother asked me if I felt more Jewish, and I said something like "more and less". I'm not sure if I'll chant again. But one thing's for sure, humor and religion go well together.
Showing posts with label Judaism. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Judaism. Show all posts
Monday, July 12, 2010
Tuesday, May 25, 2010
God is Human (and he could not be otherwise)
Atheists who have read the Bible (or parts of it, like me) often say that God's actions are inconsistent (especially when reading the Christian Bible) but what strikes me the most is that whatever theologians say about the folly of anthropomorphizing God, he is a very human figure as portrayed in the Bible. This is especially true if you don't buy that the inconsistencies in his actions are due to greater knowledge. If you treat him as a petty and sometimes foolish character, it makes sense. But this is not an interpretation that works well in a monotheistic framework, at any rate not a conventional one.
However, there is some evidence that early Jews believed in more than one god, and that many didn't even confine their worship to their own tribal god (the god of the Bible). Modern Judaism, of course, doesn't support this view, but I am rather fond of it - I like the drama of a group of quarreling deities, as in the Greek and Roman myths, rather than the comparatively boring idea of a single benevolent creator, or the frightening one of a single strict or even vindictive deity.
But the reason I think that God has to be human (by which I mean that as a character he is humanlike) is that we only know one intelligent species capable of communication - Homo Sapiens. It would be difficult, if not impossible, to imagine an intelligent being that was not humanlike (which is also part of why most science fiction aliens look a lot like us). He has to either be a humanlike character or a non-character.
However, there is some evidence that early Jews believed in more than one god, and that many didn't even confine their worship to their own tribal god (the god of the Bible). Modern Judaism, of course, doesn't support this view, but I am rather fond of it - I like the drama of a group of quarreling deities, as in the Greek and Roman myths, rather than the comparatively boring idea of a single benevolent creator, or the frightening one of a single strict or even vindictive deity.
But the reason I think that God has to be human (by which I mean that as a character he is humanlike) is that we only know one intelligent species capable of communication - Homo Sapiens. It would be difficult, if not impossible, to imagine an intelligent being that was not humanlike (which is also part of why most science fiction aliens look a lot like us). He has to either be a humanlike character or a non-character.
Friday, May 14, 2010
An atheist, chanting the Torah?
Last night I went to Torah chanting class. This is something I'm rather fond of, even though I don't believe (much) of what it says in the Bible. That is to say that I don't treat it as probably true. I treat it as a collection of stories, which say more about the authors' conceptions of human nature and the world than anything else. If some bits turn out to have some basis in reality, so much the better! It must be said, though, that I am capable of adopting a more traditional view from a "what-if" perspective for the sake of services and Torah study.
But going back to the chanting, the second time I went to a Jewish service (the first being a friend's bat mitzvah, which I don't remember very well) I was very impressed that they chanted the Torah. So when I heard about a free, once-a-week class, no Hebrew knowledge necessary, I decided to go.
As it turns out, the entire Hebrew Bible is full of cantillation marks (or trop(e) marks), as seen on the right in Genesis 3:17-19 (from the JPS Tanakh) which indicate the placement of the emphasis in the word, the tune to which each word should be sung, and the way the sentence is broken up. There is at least one such mark per word, but occasionally there are two. There is no widespread agreement on the set of tunes to use - it isn't like musical notation - and there are different sets for different texts and certain holidays. The class I'm in focuses on the Torah set for everyday (non-holiday) use, because of course that's the one that gets the most use.
I've been at this for a while, on and off, and I've studied Hebrew to the point where I can almost, but not quite, keep up with the Hebrew chanting in class, and am thus no longer forced to study in English (it is very unusual to chant in English, but at this synagogue some people do). The teacher, who is not officially a synagogue employee but plays an active role in many services and makes money tutoring bar and bat mitzvah students, has been suggesting for a few sessions now that I should chant a short portion of three to five verses in a few weeks. This time I told him I was a little uncomfortable with chanting something I don't believe, even if it is in Hebrew, but it turns out that my classmate, the Israeli atheist, isn't the only person who's involved with this group without believing, and of course a lot of them believe in unconventional versions of the religion, so it's a bit of an oddball group. I'm still on the fence about chanting, but apparently I'm Jewish enough for them. I just might do it, but the idea of chanting from the Torah, which not only lacks cantillation marks but also vowels, and which would involve several other things I haven't done before, such as putting on a tallit and possibly saying my own blessing, makes me nervous.
Why do I like it? There's a certain solemnity to the whole procedure, which really makes it feel special. It's oddly musical, even haunting, especially once you get to know it, and chanting can be a very meditative practice. It's also very intellectually demanding, especially because of the Hebrew, unless you take a pure memorization route. That, and I'm all for any excuse to sing. I also like the teacher and many of the people who come to class. It's drop-in, so you never know what to expect, although the more advanced students who come in are almost always there to practice a specific portion that they're going to chant within the next few weeks. It's nice to hear them work on it, and some weeks I feel up for the class, with its academic air, but not for Saturday morning services.
But going back to the chanting, the second time I went to a Jewish service (the first being a friend's bat mitzvah, which I don't remember very well) I was very impressed that they chanted the Torah. So when I heard about a free, once-a-week class, no Hebrew knowledge necessary, I decided to go.
I've been at this for a while, on and off, and I've studied Hebrew to the point where I can almost, but not quite, keep up with the Hebrew chanting in class, and am thus no longer forced to study in English (it is very unusual to chant in English, but at this synagogue some people do). The teacher, who is not officially a synagogue employee but plays an active role in many services and makes money tutoring bar and bat mitzvah students, has been suggesting for a few sessions now that I should chant a short portion of three to five verses in a few weeks. This time I told him I was a little uncomfortable with chanting something I don't believe, even if it is in Hebrew, but it turns out that my classmate, the Israeli atheist, isn't the only person who's involved with this group without believing, and of course a lot of them believe in unconventional versions of the religion, so it's a bit of an oddball group. I'm still on the fence about chanting, but apparently I'm Jewish enough for them. I just might do it, but the idea of chanting from the Torah, which not only lacks cantillation marks but also vowels, and which would involve several other things I haven't done before, such as putting on a tallit and possibly saying my own blessing, makes me nervous.
Why do I like it? There's a certain solemnity to the whole procedure, which really makes it feel special. It's oddly musical, even haunting, especially once you get to know it, and chanting can be a very meditative practice. It's also very intellectually demanding, especially because of the Hebrew, unless you take a pure memorization route. That, and I'm all for any excuse to sing. I also like the teacher and many of the people who come to class. It's drop-in, so you never know what to expect, although the more advanced students who come in are almost always there to practice a specific portion that they're going to chant within the next few weeks. It's nice to hear them work on it, and some weeks I feel up for the class, with its academic air, but not for Saturday morning services.
Monday, May 10, 2010
Shabbat Observance
One of the parts of Jewish religious observance that I'm the most drawn to is Shabbat, the sabbath. And yet being Shabbat observant (shomer shabbat/shabbos) in an Orthodox sense would be very difficult, not least because there are so many commandments that I do not know!
Shabbat starts Friday evening and continues until after sunset on Saturday, in accordance with how days are reckoned on the Hebrew calendar. During Shabbat a whole host of activities are forbidden, including but not limited to: working or causing your animal (or slave) to work, starting or putting out fires, turning on or off devices that use electricity (by analogy with fire), carrying things across property lines, traveling (more than a certain distance past the edge of town), handling money, and so on. There are thus a lot of restrictions that cannot be avoided and some that can be - by setting timers to turn things on and off automatically, one can avoid turning the lights on and off, or by living within an eruv, a sort of fictional property whose edges are defined by temporary barriers of sorts, commonly wires attached to telephone poles, one can carry things within that area. And any of them can be broken - is required to be broken - in order to protect human life. But these laws are a large part of why more traditional Jewish communities tend to be concentrated to some extent around a synagogue.
All of this doesn't have that much relevance to my life - I circulate in progressive communities (Reform, Reconstructionist, and similar), I don't believe in God, and in practice I don't observe any of the commandments strictly, although I try to avoid using the computer, the television, and the telephone on Shabbat. Furthermore, I am not technically Jewish, either by the traditional definition according to Jewish law or by the Reform definition. So why does this interest me? What exactly do I like about it?
I like not feeling the pressure to be productive. I like getting advertisements and phone calls out of my face, and escaping from the sensory overload of a modern, plugged-in life. I like taking my time and doing things slowly. I like reading, one of my major Saturday activities. And I enjoy the ritual. Lighting candles reverently, ritualistically, with a blessing (here in Ashkenazi/Eastern European pronunciation), feels holy to me, whatever that can mean to an atheist. I like havdalah as well, but I rarely get the chance to participate in that. I like the synagogue services, welcoming in Shabbat in the evening service and the Torah service Saturday morning, especially the chanting (or here's some cute kids chanting). I enjoy the camaraderie over snacks or a meal afterwards.
And I suspect that if I was more strict at least about the restrictions I try to impose on myself, I'd enjoy it even more. But this is something I waffle about every week.
Shabbat starts Friday evening and continues until after sunset on Saturday, in accordance with how days are reckoned on the Hebrew calendar. During Shabbat a whole host of activities are forbidden, including but not limited to: working or causing your animal (or slave) to work, starting or putting out fires, turning on or off devices that use electricity (by analogy with fire), carrying things across property lines, traveling (more than a certain distance past the edge of town), handling money, and so on. There are thus a lot of restrictions that cannot be avoided and some that can be - by setting timers to turn things on and off automatically, one can avoid turning the lights on and off, or by living within an eruv, a sort of fictional property whose edges are defined by temporary barriers of sorts, commonly wires attached to telephone poles, one can carry things within that area. And any of them can be broken - is required to be broken - in order to protect human life. But these laws are a large part of why more traditional Jewish communities tend to be concentrated to some extent around a synagogue.
All of this doesn't have that much relevance to my life - I circulate in progressive communities (Reform, Reconstructionist, and similar), I don't believe in God, and in practice I don't observe any of the commandments strictly, although I try to avoid using the computer, the television, and the telephone on Shabbat. Furthermore, I am not technically Jewish, either by the traditional definition according to Jewish law or by the Reform definition. So why does this interest me? What exactly do I like about it?
I like not feeling the pressure to be productive. I like getting advertisements and phone calls out of my face, and escaping from the sensory overload of a modern, plugged-in life. I like taking my time and doing things slowly. I like reading, one of my major Saturday activities. And I enjoy the ritual. Lighting candles reverently, ritualistically, with a blessing (here in Ashkenazi/Eastern European pronunciation), feels holy to me, whatever that can mean to an atheist. I like havdalah as well, but I rarely get the chance to participate in that. I like the synagogue services, welcoming in Shabbat in the evening service and the Torah service Saturday morning, especially the chanting (or here's some cute kids chanting). I enjoy the camaraderie over snacks or a meal afterwards.
And I suspect that if I was more strict at least about the restrictions I try to impose on myself, I'd enjoy it even more. But this is something I waffle about every week.
Sunday, May 2, 2010
Beatles Shabbat
On Friday, I went to a pretty unconventional service at a local progressive synagogue. At this particular synagogue, on months that have a fifth Friday, they do a service based around the music of a particular band. This time around it was the Beatles.
This is unconventional in that according to Jewish law, one is not supposed to use musical instruments on Shabbat. Now, this doesn't stop Reform congregations, but this congregation is unaffiliated and doesn't use instruments except on fifth Fridays.
It's also unconventional in that the musical selections mark a departure from the traditional Friday night liturgy. Now from what I hear, many parts of the tradition and especially the melodies are really not that old, and in egalitarian synagogues it is common to change parts of certain prayers to recognize the importance of women and to be inclusive. All this, however, doesn't stop some people from getting up in arms whenever anything else is changed.
But at this service, people seemed to know what they were getting themselves in for. Almost everything was replaced with Beatles music that was thematically similar, although really the connections were quite loose. Some words were changed or capitalized to indicate that they were meant (in this context) to refer to God, and a few prayers were set to Beatles music.
There were some choices I really liked, like singing Eight Days a Week ("Ain't got nothing but love babe/Eight days a week") at the beginning of the Shabbat bride part. On Friday nights, the service is meant to welcome in Shabbat, the day of rest, and Shabbat is personified as a bride.
As the service went on, however, I felt more and more disconnected from it, in part because I didn't know some of the songs, and in part because when we came to the Hebrew bits, I was paying attention to the translation, and it always feels uncomfortable to say things you don't believe. So I didn't actually say most of it this time.
For example, this is from their translation of the Aleinu, which is said towards the end of the service:
"For we bow, prostrate ourselves, and thank the Supreme Sovereign of sovereigns; the holy one of blessing..."
And there you have the rub for me. Sometimes I want to be involved with this group, sometimes I enjoy the services and other events, but when it comes to the beliefs, I can't get with it. They aren't the kind of people that would kick out an atheist, but I don't think they realize I am one. I should probably find a Jewish Humanist group instead, but the nearest one I know of is too far away to get to more than once in a great while.
At least they didn't make us say the part about unbelief being no more. That's the part I dislike the most, because sometimes I can ignore the god stuff, but I can't pretend it would be a good thing for atheism and agnosticism to disappear.
Don't get me wrong, I enjoyed myself, and it was nice to see my friends, but it really highlighted what I don't like about being involved in religion.
This is unconventional in that according to Jewish law, one is not supposed to use musical instruments on Shabbat. Now, this doesn't stop Reform congregations, but this congregation is unaffiliated and doesn't use instruments except on fifth Fridays.
It's also unconventional in that the musical selections mark a departure from the traditional Friday night liturgy. Now from what I hear, many parts of the tradition and especially the melodies are really not that old, and in egalitarian synagogues it is common to change parts of certain prayers to recognize the importance of women and to be inclusive. All this, however, doesn't stop some people from getting up in arms whenever anything else is changed.
But at this service, people seemed to know what they were getting themselves in for. Almost everything was replaced with Beatles music that was thematically similar, although really the connections were quite loose. Some words were changed or capitalized to indicate that they were meant (in this context) to refer to God, and a few prayers were set to Beatles music.
There were some choices I really liked, like singing Eight Days a Week ("Ain't got nothing but love babe/Eight days a week") at the beginning of the Shabbat bride part. On Friday nights, the service is meant to welcome in Shabbat, the day of rest, and Shabbat is personified as a bride.
As the service went on, however, I felt more and more disconnected from it, in part because I didn't know some of the songs, and in part because when we came to the Hebrew bits, I was paying attention to the translation, and it always feels uncomfortable to say things you don't believe. So I didn't actually say most of it this time.
For example, this is from their translation of the Aleinu, which is said towards the end of the service:
"For we bow, prostrate ourselves, and thank the Supreme Sovereign of sovereigns; the holy one of blessing..."
And there you have the rub for me. Sometimes I want to be involved with this group, sometimes I enjoy the services and other events, but when it comes to the beliefs, I can't get with it. They aren't the kind of people that would kick out an atheist, but I don't think they realize I am one. I should probably find a Jewish Humanist group instead, but the nearest one I know of is too far away to get to more than once in a great while.
At least they didn't make us say the part about unbelief being no more. That's the part I dislike the most, because sometimes I can ignore the god stuff, but I can't pretend it would be a good thing for atheism and agnosticism to disappear.
Don't get me wrong, I enjoyed myself, and it was nice to see my friends, but it really highlighted what I don't like about being involved in religion.
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