April 21, 2009 | Filed Under Blog | No Comments
The Passionate Torah is starting to get ready for its big debut in June! Yay. A wonderful review and profile in Publishers Weekly this week–I’m totally tickled:
The Passionate Torah: Sex and Judaism Edited by Danya Ruttenberg. New York Univ., $19.95 paper (320p) ISBN 978-0-8147-7605-6
It is not often that an academic title about religion stimulates other parts of the body as well as the mind. Yet that is what Ruttenberg, a rabbi, and the 17 contributors to this collection of essays have accomplished. Ruttenberg, a wunderkind of Jewish feminism, leads the reader through an often racy reconsideration of what the sacred Jewish texts say about our most intimate relationships. Along the way there is a lot of fun—see the story about the naked rabbi and the prostitute who marries him. But Ruttenberg et al. never lose sight of their goal: to uncover new ideas about treating those we love with the respect, kindness and honor inherent in the teachings of Judaism. (June)
and
Reverent, Relevant, Rebellious Rabbi
Is Judaism sexy? Ask the rabbi—as long as the rabbi is Rabbi Danya Ruttenberg, editor of The Passionate Torah: Sex and Judaism (New York Univ., June). The answer, she will tell you, is definitely “yes.”
That, at least, is the premise behind the book—that Judaism, with its 6,000-year history, has a lot to say about our most intimate relationships. And while Jews have plumbed their tradition for patterns of ethical behavior for thousands of years, The Passionate Torah charts new ways of looking at old wisdom.
“I think there is always a need to be reinterrogating and rethinking our assumptions about everything,” Ruttenberg, 34, says. “The way we keep [Judaism] relevant is by constantly examining it, turning it over and over. But we have to do the hard work of going deep down and asking the tough questions.”
Ruttenberg is no stranger to tough questions. She is the author of the memoir Surprised by God: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love Religion (Beacon, 2008), in which she details how she went from rebelling against her faith to seeking out its meaning and solace. She also edited Yentl’s Revenge: The Next Wave of Jewish Feminism (Seal, 2001), which placed her firmly in the ranks of up-and-coming Jewish scholars. She carries that reverent-yet-rebellious approach to The Passionate Torah, in which she and her 17 colleague-contributors ask: what does Jewish law, tradition, scripture and religious writing have to tell us about sex and sexual relationships today?
The book is no academic exercise, despite its big-name roster of scholar-contributors. “This is not theory for the sake of theory,” Ruttenberg says.“We wanted to create a playground for people to play around with new ideas, to bring different lenses and aim them at Jewish text sources and traditions and see what would come out.”
Next for Ruttenberg is a series of books on Jewish ethics called Jewish Choices, Jewish Voices that she is co-editing with Rabbi Elliott Dorff, also a contributor to this book. Her contribution to that series, focusing on sex, war and social justice, will appear in 2010 from the Jewish Publication Society. In some ways, it will continue the theme of looking at the old through the eyes of the new. “I want to give scholars, rabbis and thinkers the tools to play,” Ruttenberg says.
March 23, 2009 | Filed Under Blog | No Comments
I’m teaching a class at the lovely retreat center Elat Chayyim this summer, from July 27-August 2. It’s on Jewish sex! What could be more fun than that?
Here’s the official copy:
Judaism’s sacred texts and great thinkers offer many inspirations, challenges and provocative questions about how we conduct our most intimate relationships.
How should a couple interact in the bedroom? How does sexuality impact our relationships with God and ourselves? Have feminism, queerness and new questions about gender identity impacted our Jewish understandings? Our tradition can help guide us in ways that resonate even today.
We’ll look at texts and use experiential-based learning to look within, asking ourselves what it means to have a Jewish sexual ethic.
Come join the fun–go here for more information, to register, etc etc.
And if you can’t make the class (or even if you can), you can still get your fill with The Passionate Torah: Sex and Judaism, which will be out in June….
March 16, 2009 | Filed Under Blog | No Comments
The most excellent mikveh/community resource known as Mayyim Hayyim is having a benefit featuring Yavilah McCoy and four generations of her family’s music. It’s this coming Sunday, deets here. Ch-ch-check it out…
March 2, 2009 | Filed Under Blog | 4 Comments
Well, the aforementioned Sekrit Projeckt has come to fruition. His name is Yonatan, and he was born twelve days ago. He is a miracle and a joy.
Not sure how much I’ll blog about him–maybe some, probably more about things I learn getting to hang out with him than anything. Prayer is already deeper and more textured than I could have imagined. Especially when he’s curled up in his sling when I daven. More reflections to come, I’m sure.
In any case, for now? A nap.
January 30, 2009 | Filed Under Blog | No Comments
Hi, there. I know posting has fallen off a bit around here; sorry ’bout that. I’ve been busy gigging, cleaning up the last things that needed to be done on The Passionate Torah: Sex and Judaism, working on 3 other anthologies, a biggish research project, and a few other things that have come up, blah blah blah. I’ve also got a Sekrit Projekt in the works, probably will share more about that when the time is right.
In any case, today saw a nice review of Surprised By God on Feministing, the excellent feminist blog, so I thought I’d share:
The only Jewish kid I knew growing up in Colorado Springs, CO was a nerdy guy whose mother sued the neighborhood elementary school when she realized we only sang Christmas carols around holiday time (this was in the mid 80s). I felt bad for him, even though I thought it was very brave of his mother. It must have been a pretty alienating childhood.
But then I moved to Barnard and lived in New York City and I was actually the one who sometimes felt alienated from Judaism–the thing that gave the other girls on my hallway an immediate social circle when school started, the thing that made my roommate wait for me to turn on the bathroom light on Saturday mornings, the rich tradition of valuing education, telling moving stories, of doing good for others. I was, to put it plainly, a little jealous.
I felt that again while reading Danya Ruttenberg’s beautiful memoir, Surprised by God. In it, Ruttenberg, who is still fairly young–though a rabbi, a theologian, and an accomplished writer–traces her own path from atheist Brown undergrad to Rabbinical school student. After a Jewish-ish growing up, she wholeheartedly embraces philosophy and the heady side of religion while in college, but when she loses her mother to a painful cancer, things start to unravel. Moving to the west coast during the dot com boom, she’s introduced into a world of excess, glitter, and individuality. She falls in step–making costumes for the upcoming theme party, scraping by on freelance writing, and getting, well, drunk a lot. But there is just something missing. And before long, she goes seeking for just what that is…
I won’t give away the rest, but I really recommend this book for anyone who has that same inkling (as in, there must be more than this) or has wrestled with organized religion (it doesn’t have to be Judaism). Ruttenberg does a masterful job of weaving in quotations from religion’s greatest thinkers while taking us on her contemporary pilgrimage of sorts. It’s entirely relatable, which in my experience, is unusual for a religious text. It’s young. It’s hip. And it’s still profoundly serious.
The added bonus is that Ruttenberg is a committed feminist, so her gender lens is used throughout. She writes:
…feminism was important to me because it gave me space to be who I needed to be; it, like punk, saved me from having to fear my intelligence or my strength, and it helped me to articulate why I was so repelled by what I perceived to be the pretty girl aspirations of so many of my classmates. Simply put, I wanted more than that.
Thanks, Courtney and Feministing!
January 19, 2009 | Filed Under Blog | 1 Comment
Judaism has blessings for just about everything–smelling fragrant trees, seeing a rainbow, hearing good news, hearing bad news, encountering a friend one hasn’t seen in a year, and more. There is a blessing that one says upon seeing a non-Jewish king, and some would say that this extends to seeing a (non-Jewish) head of state, as well.
The blessing is:
ברוך אתה ה’ אלוקינו מלך העולם שנתן מכבודו לבשר ודם
Blessed are You, God our Deity, Ruler of the universe, who has given of His glory to flesh and blood.
Rabbi Sue Fendrick has recently mused (evidently inspired by Elaine Ruben in DC) about whether this blessing would be appropriate to say upon seeing a head of state on TV, and, as such, whether it makes sense to say upon watching someone become a head of state. I will leave it to your discretion to decide whether or not this works.
In any case, I wish much luck and success to President-Elect Obama, who is inheriting quite a heavy load. And I also wish well to his most ardent supporters, who may yet have to learn that as intelligent and charming and, it seems, capable as the man is–he is, after all, only flesh and blood, and shouldn’t be expected to accomplish more than any mere mortal can.
And, of course, happy birthday, Dr. King. Thank you for everything–for being the man who spoke out for civil rights and for sanitation workers, against Vietnam and for all poor people in America. Thank you for seeing the big picture, and leading us to it.
January 19, 2009 | Filed Under Blog | No Comments
As I’ve watched–mostly from afar, sadly, as I’m now living on the other coast–various communities and lots of people that I know respond to the death of Rabbi Lew, I have found myself thinking about some of the stuff in Tractate Moed Katan about mourning for a rav.
I don’t know if any of this will be of use or of solace to folks in the Beth Sholom community or other students of R. Lew’s elsewhere, or other students of other rabbanim elsewhere, but I offer it to all, each for their own purpose. I’m deliberately not going to comment on the text, but invite folks to share their own thoughts on the matter….
In any case, some tidbits from Moed Katan. Translation some combination of Soncino and my own:
Our Rabbis taught: When a teacher dies, his beit midrash [place of learning] is canceled [for a time]; when the head of the beit din dies all the batei midrash in his city are canceled and [the people of the synagogue] enter the synagogue[s] and change their [usual] places: those that [usually] sit in the north sit in the south and those that [usually] sit in the south sit in the north. When a Nasi [head of the Sanhedrin] dies, all the batei midrash are canceled and the people of the synagogue enter the synagogue [on Shabbat] and seven people read [the weekly portions of the Torah, ie the aliyot, as one must read the Torah in public] and thereafter they go away. [and pray as individuals, not as a community]. R. Joshua b. Korhah says, Not that they go and walk about in the street but they sit [at home] in silence. (22b-23a)
MISHNAH. NONE REND [THEIR CLOTHES] NOR BARE [THEIR SHOULDER; an ancient mourning practice]… EXCEPT FOR THOSE [WHO ARE] NEAR OF KIN TO THE DEAD….
GEMARA. [NONE REND etc.] even though [the dead be] a recognized scholar.
But then, is it not taught [otherwise]: “If a scholar dies, all are his close relatives?” ‘All are his near of kin’, say you? — Rather, “All are like his close relatives.” — All rend their clothes on his account and all bare [their shoulders] on his account and all provide a repast [ie the mourner’s meal] for those that mourn on his account in the [public] square.
When R. Safra died, the Rabbis [or, students] did not rend [their clothes] on account of him, since, they said, We have not learnt from him [directly]. Said Abaye, Is it taught: ‘When a Master [your rabbi] died’? The teaching is: ‘When a scholar dies [all are his close relatives]’. Besides, we repeat daily the halachic interpretations reported [in his name; ie, his teachings] at the beit midrash! The [Rabbis of the beit midrash] then took the view that what was done was done [ie, they erred in not rending, but it was too late to fix it.] Said Abaye to them, We learned: ‘If a scholar dies, as long as they are engaged in a lament [as long as people are eulogizing] for him they are in duty bound to rend [their clothes]’. They thought then of rending immediately [their clothes]. Said Abaye to them, [No], it is taught: ‘A scholar is honoured at the eulogy held on his account’ [and it’s better to rend while other people are eulogizing.] (24b-25a)
January 13, 2009 | Filed Under Blog | 3 Comments
I just got word that my first and most influential rav, Rabbi Alan Lew, died this morning. I’m a little bit in shock–he was only 65, and from what I understand this was not anticipated from anyone. From what I understand, he died while taking a walk, serving as a teacher at a rabbinic training institute. In his last day, I’m told, he taught, meditated, davenned, and went for a run–kind of a classic thing for the man.
I saw him last in early November, when I was in San Francisco for a book event. He showed up, looking quite just as he’s looked the whole time I’ve known him, since I first darkened the doorstep of Beth Sholom in ‘97–or maybe a little happier, more relaxed as he’d had a break of a few years from the stresses of pulpit life. He laughed and glowed and told me he was proud of me, that he loved my book. I told him that the only reason he liked it was because he was featured so prominently in it. It was really nice to see him.
He was my rabbi from the first time I went to Beth Sholom, shortly after I arrived to SF. He taught me through his sermons, through his prayer, through his meditation, through his Torah classes, through our regular one-on-one spiritual direction meetings, through the way he spoke with his congregants and comported himself. How he tied his shoes, truly. I studied with him for the five years between getting to Beth Sholom and leaving for rabbinical school, and I sought his council after I left. His Torah is the reason that I’m religious, and the reason that I’m a rabbi. It was and is nourishment and sustenance of a rare and special kind.
People make a big fuss about his background in Zen practice that predated his rabbinic training, but really? It was more that the things he learned about clearing the mind gave him such a bright, crystalline way of seeing things than anything, and I think that’s what had such a powerful impact on his Torah. That and the commitment to practice as discipline as practice.
I wrote some of my tributes in Surprised by God. I’m glad he got to see them.
May his memory be for a blessing. May Sherril and his children receive as much love and comfort as is possible to take in.
Here are some of his words of Torah, from This Is Real And You Are Completely Unprepared:
Suddenly we understand why the Great Temple of Jerusalem was an elaborate construction surrounding nothing. There at the sacred center, at the Holy of Holies, a place we only entered on Yom Kippur, and even then only by proxy, only through the agency of the high priest, there at that center, is precisely nothing–a vacated space, a charged emptiness, that surrounds this world, that comes before this life and after it as well….
And now we understand why we rehearse our death on Yom Kippur–why we say Vidui and wear a kittel and refrain from eating–why in the middle of this day, we send our proxy, now the cantor, into the dangerous emptiness at the center.
We need a taste of this emptiness, to give us a sense of what will go with us, what will endure as we make this great crossing. What’s important? What is at the core of our life? What will live on after we are wind and space? What will be worthy of that endless, infinitely powerful silence?….
What lives on of the people we have loved and lost? What breaks our hearts when we think of them? What do we miss so much that it aches? Precisely that suchness, that unspeakable, ineffable, intangible quality, which takes up no space at all and which never did.
That’s what survives that great crossing with us. That’s what makes it through the passage from life to death.
December 4, 2008 | Filed Under Blog | 1 Comment
This’ll be out this summer. Goodness knows the fonts or whatever might change before then, but I’m pretty sure this is more or less the final version.
In Boston-area event-ish news, I’ll be giving a book talk at Eitz Chayim in Cambridge on Dec. 7th (this Sunday) and doing a lunch-and-learn at the Jewish Women’s Archive in Brookline on the 9th. (Oh, and the always-awesome Judith Rosenbaum interviewed me for the JWA blog recently, too.) If you’re local, come out and play!
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