The FFB and the Status Quo

I've learned that I don't usually get along that well with FFBs (Frum From Birth).
When I was at Yeshiva University for Purim, I began to realize, as I have in other Modern Orthodox circles, that many people who grow up in that lifestyle take Judaism for granted. They consider themselves the same as any other doctor or lawyer, they just happen to wear a kippah and pray three times a day. For me, and for other Ba'alei Teshuva, I don't want to live the same life as I did before, just this time I keep Shabbas, I want to have my entire life encompassed by Judaism. But then again, I don't reject the culture that I grew up in. In fact, I think there's a lot I can learn from it.
It just seems to me that theres a status quo when it comes to Modern Orthodoxy that many young Jews feel that they have to live by. Like gender roles, for instance. I understand that there are certain defined gender roles in Orthodox Judaism, and I recognize them- I think they are true, but I think it should be taken at a very minimal level. Yes, the woman is the master of the home, she is caring and nurturing, while the man supports the family and community, teaches, and works. But does that mean that a woman can't be a community leader? Or that a man can't take time off work to raise his kids? I feel like there's this assumption that boys have to be boyish - immature, loud, and only friends with other boys, while girls have to be girly - constantly talking about who's engaged, worrying about their appearance, rebuking boys for being immature, etc. A couple times that weekend, I heard these ridiculous generalizations coming from young men (engaged nonetheless) like, "Girls aren't funny" or "I don't like hanging out with girls" and the like. But, as terribly sexist as that sounds, I think it's almost justified because the girls really aren't fun to hang out with because having a personality is shunned in that society.
Ok I'm also making generalizations and I'm judging, which I shouldn't, but when I became more religious, I didn't feel like I had to accept the status quo. In fact, I still want to change it, and I think that a lot of Ba'alei Teshuva have that mentality. We have the advantage that we have seen this world from both the outside and the inside (although some try to ignore that), and we need to use that advantage to make this world better. It's not enough to be a ben-Torah or an Eishit Chayil, you can't just follow the mitzvot and say that that's enough, you have to do Tikkun Olam in a tangible sense, whether it's by helping to make peace in the world or by bringing the coming of moshiach sooner (which SHOULD BE the same thing). It's sad that many FFBs (and many Ba'alei Teshuva who wish that they were born frum)

Letter to Rabbi Michael Lerner

I just applied for an internship at Tikkun magazine for this summer (cuz I'm gonna be in Berkeley!) and it was a really fun process. Instead of a résumé, they asked for a "self-revealing letter," so I had a lot of fun writing it and I thought I would post it because it says a lot about me.

Dear Rabbi Lerner and all the writers, thinkers, and artists at Tikkun magazine/NSP,

I am writing in response to the ad I saw for the Editorial and Organizational Internships at Tikkun magazine.

The fact that I am writing this letter is already a great example of why working at Tikkun will not only be a great occupational experience, but also a growing and enriching opportunity. Considering that the word “résumé” was strategically replaced with “self-revealing letter” in the ad, I intend on writing this more as a personal reflection rather than a professional correspondence (although I am not neglecting that aspect).

I am a twenty-one year old sophomore at the University of Wisconsin – Madison studying philosophy, religious studies, and Jewish studies, and this summer, I will, G-d-willing, be living in a co-op on the Berkeley campus. I am originally from Worcester, Massachusetts, where I went to Solomon Schechter Day school until eighth grade. For high school I went to the pluralistic New Jewish High School (now called Gann Academy) and then I spent a year volunteering and studying in Israel before college on Young Judaea Year Course.

The main reason why I decided to live in Berkeley this summer is because I am intrigued by the unique form of Judaism that seems to foster there, and I hope to grow in my own spirituality by participating in the various resources I have there including, but not limited to, the Open Orthodoxy of Temple Beth Israel, the independent DIY havurah of the Mission Minyan in San Francisco, and the neo-Hassidut of Beyt Tikkun. Although I love Madison, there is somewhat of a lack of deep spirituality that I have trouble feeling outside of Israel, and I plan on extracting as much of the concentrated kavanah as I can while I’m in the Bay Area.

Since I became more religious, Judaism has become a very important aspect of my life, especially when it comes to my college experience. Even though being religious in a non-religious atmosphere can often be difficult, it has also been the source of many blessings. This unique role that I play has led me to involve myself in organizations where my voice has an added layering that opens more venues for thought and discussion. I have been on the forum for the Lubar Institute for the Study of Abrahamic Religions, a religious dialogue program, for the past two years, and this year I am an undergraduate fellow. This has been an opportunity for me to participate in a frontier where, unfortunately, few Orthodox Jews venture (although I am usually reluctant to refer to myself as Orthodox because of the connotations that it can imply that don’t apply to me).

I am also the co-chair of Kavanah: A Progressive Jewish Voice. We are a political organization on campus that believes that one cannot be fully supportive of Israel unless one is equally critical of her. By educating people about the issues Palestinians face and participating in demonstrations, we hope to open the eyes of the Jewish community to be as much pro-peace as they are pro-Israel. This is another setting where being a religious voice has an added level of importance, because there are very few Orthodox Jews who connect to the left side of Israeli politics. I feel that the values of Judaism are more prevalent in supporting a peaceful solution and not only can the religious left help build bridges between Palestinians and Israelis, but I believe it can also help build bridges between the religious and the secular.

I believe that Tikkun is a breeding ground for these values. I often feel torn between religion and activism, and that should not be the case. One of the basic tenants for the Network of Spiritual Progressives could not have been said more clearly: To “challenge the misuse of G-d and religion by the Religious Right and religio-phobia on the Left.” I often find myself in situations where I become uncomfortable because either I feel like the only liberal in a crowd of religiously observant people, or I feel like the only person of faith in a crowd of activists. Why do peace activists have to be militant atheists and why does the Religious Right have to be close-minded dogmatists? It seems so contradictory to the values of both parties.

The one criticism I have for Tikkun and the one reluctance I myself feel within the path of religious and political dialogue is the tendency to lose sight of the original idea. In Kavanah, we are constantly asking ourselves who we are trying to represent and who we are trying to address. Should we be a critical voice for Jews, or an Arab voice among Jews, or a supportive voice in opposition to the anti-Israel voices on campus? We don’t want to be too exclusive but we also want to retain our original mission. I feel that Tikkun is dealing with a similar issue. It seems to be slowly becoming less Jewish and more universalist and New Age. I felt the same way about the Renewal community in Madison. After reading the Jew and the Lotus, I was inspired and I really wanted to get involved, so I applied to be a Hebrew school teacher there, but as the weeks went by, I began to feel that the core values of the movement had been neglected in order to address the lack of spiritual commitment in the community, just as the Reform and Conservative movements did.

I am a good writer and editor, as is necessitated in my academic majors, and I very strongly support the ideals of Tikkun and NSP. I hope to one day work in a religious dialogue program in Israel that gets religious and spiritual people from both Israel and Palestine to work together to make peace. I would love to work with Jerusalem Peacemakers, Encounter, Bustan, or Rabbis for Human Rights because they are all doing what I dream of one day doing.

I want to work with Tikkun because I believe that it holds the same ideals as I do, and I want to meet likeminded people, as it can get lonely out in the Midwest with few who strive towards the same ends as I do. I am a student, and I am trying to save up money for when I eventually make aliyah, so I would need to get a compensation or a grant in order to intern at Tikkun, and I would love to work with the magazine itself, Limmud Interns, Healing Israel/Palestine, or the NSP. I can start working on May 26^th.

Thank you for taking the time to read this.

Sincerely,

Eric Salitsky

Cool links for the day

Spitzer Has Sinned, But It's Our Sex Obsession That's Criminal by Alan Dershowitz

Rilo A Yid!!!

Does a Mikvah Dunk Make Pre-Marital Sex Kosher?

Community Supported Agriculture (CSA) in Israel

Stuff White People Like

Activists = Atheists... why?

Today I received the bi-weekly update for the Madison Activists Calender in my email. I usually enjoy getting this because it gives me the opportunity to see what kind of political and activist events are going on in Madison that I wouldn't normally know about. It's also cool to hear what the Madison-Rafah group is doing (the controversial group that is trying to make Rafah, the one with the Qassams, Madison's sister city) and what kind of anti-Israel stuff they are promoting. This week they are sponsoring the Madison leg of the play My Name is Rachel Corrie.
But today the calender really offended me. On the list of activist events on campus for the week was Richard Dawkins' lecture on his book The G-d Delusion. Now, don't get me wrong, I have a ticket for the lecture and I plan on going because I really enjoy getting pissed off, but what does a lecture supporting atheism have anything to do with activism?
I quickly sent the editor of the calender an email back with an ad absurdum argument, trying to "understand where he was coming from" in a slightly sarcastic way.

What does [a pro-atheism lecture] have to do with activism? Are you implying that a religiously observant activist is an oxymoron? I should hope not because that would be a very close-minded approach to society at large.
And if that is not what you were implying, then why would you put an event that has to do with religion (or lack thereof) on your calender? How is that any different then posting a lecture about the positive aspects of religion or even a scholarly or critical lecture on religion given at the university? Obviously, events like that are not the type of events you are trying to promote by sending out the calender.
And if you mentioned Richard Dawkins' lecture because you thought that many people who are activists would also be interested in the lecture (which is true and I plan on attending that lecture) then it is not an activist calender anymore - it is an events calender for things that are going on in Madison with an emphasis on activism. And that doesn't seem right to me. Stick with what you know.

Yeah the last sentence was a little harsh but it was only because I didn't have a great argument for why his calender should stay an activist-events-only calender. That's really his decision.
But it just seems like such a double standard to me. When it comes to secular liberalism, you can be gay, you can (or should) be vegan, you can be a feminist, you can be any race or ethnicity, but you can't be religious because all religious people are uneducated and blind and addicted to the opiate of the masses. But it is really them who are blind to their own contradictions and hypocrisies. It's for the same reason (I believe) that the Emma Goldman Co-op didn't accept me. Their three pillars were anarchism, feminism, and anti-racism, which I hold very closely (well, maybe not so much the anarchism part), but when I asked the coordinator why I wasn't accepted, she said, "You seem like a great individual, but Emma Goldman has a certain image that it needs to uphold." Read - we don't want anyone religious here because it might make us look less liberal. That's bullshit. Liberalism is all about changing the status quo to make a more ideal society, but when they refuse to include religious people in their fights for social justice and peace, they neglect their own values.
This is why organizations like Uri Li'Tzedek and Rabbis for Human Rights are so important right now. It is true that for some reason the religious tend to ignore the social justice aspects of their communities and I really have no idea why that is, but it gives a bad name for us. Organizations like that not only help the communities around them, but they help repair the image of religious people being apathetic to the world around them in ways that are not directly tied to religiosity.
The problem is that even though it is true that the Orthodox need to work harder on the words of G-d Himself, "צדק, צדק תרדף - Justice, justice you shall pursue," it is not something that should be accepted by the secular liberals. Racism still exists, but they fight that. Chauvinism still exists, and that is being fought too. But religionism (I just made that word up) is not only not being fought, it is being propagated, and that is wrong.

Update: Turns out I overreacted. Here's the email John sent back to me:

Hello Eric,
I'm sorry you found the calendar listing of Prof. Dawkins lecture "offensive." I must admit, that when I first opened your email I thought it was another pro-Israeli person calling me "anti-semitic" for including Palestinian solidarity events! As you can imagine, I get lots of those, along with other assorted unpleasantries.

Actually, I try to include most every UW Distinguished Lectures in the calendar precisely because they are often controversial speakers. Personally, I've found other UW Distinguished lectures much more "offensive", such as David Horowitz, but I've included them nonetheless since it is good for folks to hear another side if they wish.

Obviously, I do not endorse the politics of everything I include in the calendar. The listing is for informational purposes only.

Best - John

I sent him an email back apologizing for becoming emotional. So I was wrong this time, but I still believe in what I wrote, even though John might be an exception. Let's hope that in fact more people are like John who do not hold a double standard.

Reflections on yesterday's events

Yesterday, an Israeli-Arab walked into the Merkaz Harav yeshiva in Jerusalem armed with a Kalashnikov and open fired in the dining hall where around 80 people were eating lunch. 8 students, most under the age of 20, were killed and many more were injured. Once the news got out, there was a huge victory celebration in Gaza. And the twist? The terrorist was an Israeli citizen, most likely from East Jerusalem.
I'm not sure how to feel. Obviously, I'm horrified considering that this is the second attack of the year whereas last year there were no piguim. I'm a little concerned that this could be the start of the third intifada, and I've been praying that it's not and that things will get better.
I do feel a little... selfish? Spoiled? I'm not sure how to phrase it. This event has really bothered me and I've been thinking about it a lot, and it's made me really confused. But I can't say that I feel the same way about the IDF operations in Gaza last weekend. Around 70 Palestinians were killed and hundreds were injured in "the highest number of casualties recorded over such a short period of time since Operation Defensive Shield in 2002." Many of the people killed and injured were civilians, unaffiliated with the rockets being fired on Sderot and now Ashkelon.
My response to the reports in Gaza was not sadness, fear, or discouragement as it was for Jerusalem, rather I felt anger.
I think this is a significant, if not favoritist, reaction, and it bothers me. Of course, there are major differences between both attacks. The attacks in Gaza were not targeting civilians, and the yeshiva students in Jerusalem were my brothers; I have an inherent, unexplainable connection to them because of our shared ethnicity so it is understandable for me to feel a bias towards them. But I think that having that connection is troublesome. Every life is holy and valuable, whether it be Jewish or other, and my uncontrollable tendency to take sides makes me feel like an asshole. How can I feel sorry for these Israelis when less than 100 miles away Palestinians are in a constant state of fear as they try to live in conditions that are a constant violation of their human rights and dignity?
I read an article on BBC news where two women, an Israeli from Sderot and a Palestinian from Gaza City, are exchanging letters and allowing the BBC to post them on their website. Anav, the Israeli, starts by writing about how she feels like she's living in a war-zone. She talks about the terrible conditions in Sderot as she is constantly afraid of getting hit by a Kassam rocket. Mona, the Palestinian, writes back in a very stern tone, seemingly offended by Anav's words.

Is life in Sderot a war-zone?! Then what words should I use to describe Gaza?
Life in Gaza is like Hell.

Can an Israeli in Sderot really say that he or she is living in worse conditions than a Palestinian in Gaza? Obviously not. So then why do I feel compassion for the families of the 8 Israelis killed in Jerusalem, yet I have trouble mourning for the families of Gazans?

Obama City

Obama City, Japan
This is one of the most ridiculous things I've ever seen. I especially love the borderline racist Asian stereotypes that these people are flaunting.

Toshi Maeda reports. He also apparently does not speak English. He's my favorite person in the video.

Me + Morality

I feel like my entire life is one big moral dilemma.
Ten minutes don't go by without me debating over whether or not some superfluous action is acceptable for me to commit. I constantly put myself in situations where I have to stop and think, "Is good ol' KBH behind me on this?"
Friday night was a great example of this self-imposed ethical pickle. I went to see the Black Lips for free after I left Hillel (which is a questionable move already). It was a great show, I talked to the guitarist with the dental grill about his experiences touring Israel and Palestine, and I was gonna go with Nev to her friend's place to chill afterwards. When we left the Union, the free bus was sitting on the curb and everyone ran to catch it, so I cussed and headed over there, trying to figure out what my next move would be. I couldn't just let the bus leave because then they would think, "Did we lose Eric?" but then again, I couldn't really get on the bus, the whole thing has gotta be muktzah. So I jumped on, asked the bus driver how long he was sticking around for (less than a minute) and ran to the back to give the briefest explanation of anti-busness on Shabbat ever which included the classic John Goodman à la Big Lebowski quote. But as I was finishing my 15 second speech, the bus started to pull away, which was definitely against Shabbas, so I ran to the front of the bus yelling, "STOP THE BUS!" as if I was saving an old lady who just had a heart attack. Immediately the bus driver stopped and I jumped off, giggling over the complete ridiculousness of the situation. I treated getting off that bus as if it was a life-or-death situation, like it was the most important thing I would ever do. It's funny because who else worries about these sorts of things? And the best part is, circumstances like that happen to me all the time.
In some senses, these dilemmas are crazy and unexplainable. Why should I worry so much about not mixing wool and linen? It doesn't make any sense to me and a normal person would think that I'm just being ridiculous. But in other senses, it's somewhat heartening to have a strict moral code to follow; it keeps me in check. It makes me a better person to constantly be thinking to myself, "Am I doing the right thing?" It gives my life meaning. How often does a normal American think about morality? Certainly most people don't think twice about breaking the speed limit, and very few have ethical debates over theft or murder. So when I made the decision not to eat the donut holes in my Messianism class today because they didn't have a hechsher, it made me feel good. I did something that G-d wanted, and I'm proud of that.
In A Year of Living Biblically (which I just finished), A. J. Jacobs discusses the same issues that I'm having:

I shouldn't look at the Bible as a collection of pesky tasks on my to-do list. I have to look forward to the commandments. I have to love them.
And in a few cases - just a handful, really - I'm starting to. Like, with the Sabbath. I used to orient my week around Monday, the start of the secular workweek. Now it's the Sabbath. Everything leads up to the Sabbath. On Friday morning I start prepping for it like I'm going on a big date. I make a huge pot of coffee so that I don't have to do anything resembling cooking on the Sabbath. I pile my research books in a corner.
And when the sun sets, I flip off my computer and get to work not working. Because resting is, paradoxically, difficult. The writer Judith Shulevitz talks about how avoiding business requires much effort. She's right. You can't talk about work, you can't even think about work. A notion about Esquire will creep into my brain - I have to write that article on weddings for Thursday - and I'll squash it down. Another will pop up. It's like a mental Whac-a-Mole. By the end of Saturday, as the sun finally sets, I feel as if I've done something strenuous but healthy, like I've taken a run through Central Park. I feel good, like I deserved the endorphin rush the Sabbath gave me. And then I start to look forward to next week's Sabbath.

I can really relate to him. He went though the same transformation that I did, albeit his was an experiment and mine was... uh, real I guess. But reading through it, I couldn't help but nod my head at the issues he was dealing with, such as- the problems with following laws that don't make sense, getting into awkward social situations because of certain laws, trying to weed out laws that are way too extreme to follow at this point in my life, and trying to connect with G-d but feeling a gap. I ask myself the same questions he asked all the time, but for him the experiment is over, whereas for me, it will keep on going until the day I die (bi'ezrat Hashem).
In fact, I believe this is a good thing. Anyone who believes that they fully understand their religion and know exactly what to do, obviously has no idea what their religion teaches. It is that kind of mentality that leads to fanaticism. The search for answers is the Jewish way, it is what we have been doing for 3000 years, and it is what we will continue to do for however long it takes. Yes, I believe that there is an answer out there, but we are not ready for it yet. Right now, searching and winnowing is how we are going to progress, and only through wandering will we eventually find our way.

I am officially a terrorist

Last week I visited Tammy in SyraJews. Getting there was a huge balagan because of the ice storm that swept through the Midwest, but my favorite part of the voyage was my encounter with the police.
I had a layover in Detroit, and I was talking to Tammy on the phone while I was at the gate waiting for the flight. I was telling her how I hadn't davened yet, and how davening in front of everyone in the Detroit airport was sketchy, but definitely not as sketchy as when I davened in the lobby of a hotel in Egypt when I was there with her last summer. I said sarcastically that there is probably less of a Taliban presence in this airport than there was in that hotel. And then, I went on to tell her how I learned some new words in Arabic. And then I did this crazy prayer ritual. Normal activity in the life of Eric, right?
But when we started boarding, the lady at the desk pulled me aside because she wanted to "have a word with me." Apparently, I had made some other passengers "feel uncomfortable" by using the word "Taliban" in public. And the procedure for dealing with possible terrorists is to immediately inform the captain, who ordered that I was not allowed to get on the plane until the airport police had come and interrogated me, and that if it took long enough they would fly away without me. So I watched everyone else board the plane as I was questioned by three police officers who proceeded to ask me stupid questions and check my criminal record. The whole time I had to stop myself from flipping out at the ridiculousness of the situation, but I knew that if I did that, there was no way I was getting to SyraJews before Shabbas. I eventually got on the plane and made it there, although I did get some really nice looks as I boarded the plane at the last minute. I stared back at my "fellow passengers" with my beady Jihad-eyes hoping to freak them out, but trying to avoid making any sudden movements so as not to get shot by a sky marshal.

My reaction to the whole situation can be summed up in one phrase, "What the fuck!?" It's not like the new Arabic words I had learned were "lets kill Americans" or "I can't wait to blow myself up on this flight." Of course, no one should be profiled for looking or acting like a terrorist, but... I don't even look Arab! I look as white as any other stupid hillbilly on that flight. They hear the word "Taliban" in an airport and they freak out? What kind of people have Americans evolved into since 9/11? And that they can't even tell the difference between a Muslim prayer and a Jewish prayer? These people must have been so ignorant, sucking in every anti-Arab anti-Muslim slogan they hear, soaking up all of Bush's anti-terrorist propaganda for the past seven years. I really think its sad. I can't imagine what its like for arabic-speakers or people with hijabs or even dark skin. I got a little taste of what they must experience all the time.
It's a good thing I cut off my beard a week ago though, it was huge. I definitely would not have gotten on the flight with that baby.