From back in Amherst, more thoughts on the sacred practice of translation

It's always a little risky to write while jet-lagged, but I want to add some thoughts to my last posting.

We customarily refer wistfully to all that is lost in translation. Jewish text in Hebrew carries an energetic potential like a benign and sacred nuclear fusion which is lost when the same text is rendered into another language. We can mourn the loss of the multi-dimensionality of the Hebrew text. It's a mistake, though, to judge the merits of translation on the basis of this one equation, because we do not only lose through translation, we gain.

As religious and spiritual people -- and I would affirm this for all peoples -- we Jews gain dramatically and substantially through translation. And this truth needs to be upheld and celebrated. When we translate thought from one expressive medium to the next, even translate a thought or practice from one religious context into the language of another, there is a net gain. We illuminate new dimensions of wisdom, reveal or strike new sparks of the Divine.

On the JCA trip, we witnessed countless miracles of creation achieved through the process of translation. According to Webster, to translate is "to bear, remove, or change from one place, state, form, or appearance to another." Translators, artists, religious teachers are of imagination all compact. Boundaries of form have to be crossed in the process; but new boundaries are set as a result. Touring Israel, a new land with disputed, evolving, recent and ancient borders, we witnessed all manner of freshly formed and freshly revealed identities and truths.

In Shakespeare's The Winters Tale, one character responds to wondrous events with these words: "Who would be thence that has the benefit of access? every wink of an eye some new grace will be born: our absence makes us unthrifty to our knowledge."

In our liturgy, we affirm that God "renews each day the deeds of creation." On this trip we had the benefit of access, it felt (exhaustingly!) as if for 10 days we didn't blink, and our presence in Israel translated directly to our increased knowledge. Israel presents a unique vantage point from which to witness the renewal of the sacred process of creation.

Baruch atah/Beruchah at '' , mekor kol ha'omanut.
Blessed are You God, the Source of All Art.

Sparks

Enjoying a brief moment of cognitive clarity at the airport before boarding. Barbara Janoff and I are taking the morning flight (others are returning later tonight and some are staying for another few days).

Barbara says, "I leave here feeling both a part of Israel and a part of the Jewish Community of Amherst. The sense of belonging and identity that has been part of the theme of this trip, and the theme of many of the seekers and teachers we have met, has come to me through this trip."

I want to close with the experience at Linda Zisquit's gallery yesterday afternoon. Linda is both an artist and a translator, creator and a gallery owner, a presenter of other people's art. This whole journey has been an exploration of the act of translation. Words translate to art and pictures; rituals, designs, and nature are in turn translated into words. Just as the Hebrew alphabet evolved out of hieroglyphics, so the pulses and impulses of individuals and tribes have become languages and civilizations. The teachers and artists with whom we've studied have all passionately and confidently -- with Divinely derived authority -- smudged and obscured the line between Torah and art.

Ki tov!!!! And it was good!!!

Boarding the plane!!

Last report before airport

No energy to contemplate, just report. Frankly the day was so remarkable, I'd rather just outline what we did than do a poor job of describing the actual experience.

This morning started at the movies. A film historian (didn't catch his name, sorry) met us at the Cinemateque and presented excerpts from five Israeli movies (1967 to 2004) portraying the lives of different religious and secular communities of Israel. We watched actor Assi Dayan (son of Moshe) play everything from a kibbutznik-James Dean role to a religious Zionist rabbi.

We next met author David Ehrlich at his home in Beit haKerem to talk about the art of writing, to ask questions about the short stories of his we'd read, and to hear about the life of a writer in Jerusalem.

Then Machane Yehudah (the open air market) for lunch. One last falafel.

Then Linda Zisquit's home and "Artspace" gallery in the German Colony. She fed us (and we are SO fed at this point) toured us through the group exhibition of Israeli artists, talked about working as a translator and giving voice in English to Israeli poets and gallery space to various painters and sculptors. She read from her own poetry and from Rivka Miriam's work. These Mountains, Linda's translations of Rivka's poetry -- a 30-year process -- is being published this month by Toby Press).

I went back to visit with David some more, others did some shopping or resting, while others went with Lee, our tourguide, to visit the Israel Museum and see the Dead Sea Scrolls.

Closing dinner was at an excellent Lebanese restaurant in the village of Abu Gosh.

Drinks in the lobby and now time to pack.

Shavuot starts when?

Last day???

Monday began with a lecture on the demographics of Israeli society from Paul Liptz, a social historian from Tel Aviv University. He's originally from Rhodesia, so the accent alone was a treat, and he is a lively and clear teacher, who gave us a clear sketch of the structure of Israeli society as it divides along class and economic lines. Again, as with all of our encounters, he was someone with whom we would have gladly spent the whole day learning.

The rest of the day was spent in the Old City of Jerusalem, beginning at the Kotel, moving into the Jewish Quarter for the Museum of the First Temple Period and then a visit to the Burnt House and the Cardo.

After lunch, we were joined by Daniel Rossing, Director of the Jerusalem Center for Jewish-Christian relations. He taught a sophisticated lesson in a very clear and practiced and simple way. He gave us both the theological background for what all the Christian communities find in/need from Jerusalem, and explained the different ways in which they overlap, are distinct, or exist in tension with one another.

He led us on a tour of the Christian quarter, showing at times the actual line in a plaster wall that divides the territory of one faith from another. We've had now three roof-top views of Jerusalem under the tutelage of three different teachers, each one offering a different perspective or lens for understanding the same topography.

Daniel brought us to the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, where we were met by my very dear friend Fr. Fergus Clarke, a Franciscan friar, who is once again stationed there, and who gave us a very personal and profound introduction to the church. Fergus shared (first of all he's one of the world's most charming human beings) what I would label a fervent, wholly committed "Reconstructionist" Catholicism in talking about the need (he didn't use the word, but I think it applies) to "revalue" certain ceremonies and traditions and how, in that place, where there is so much archaeological reality alongside so much post-facto architectural reimagining and conjecture, how he and the pilgrims who come to the church experience holiness in what is found there.

Just being with Fergus was a joy, hearing his explanation of his work and life was profoundly moving, and I wept when we said goodbye.

We all met up (again including Melin and Kylar, Alisha's daughter and son-in-law) at Tmol Shilshom, the "safe haven" literary cafe in the center of West Jerusalem, and had a lovely dinner there. A great place to end up after the energy and intensity of the old city.

Finally, at 10:15, Aaron, Amy, and I returned to the Kotel for a second visit. The first (it being Monday morning and Memorial Day weekend) was a bar mitzvah circus. The scene had been loud and frenetic. Now it was still busy, with hundreds of hasidic men and boys (but many fewer women) coming and going, praying and talking. The plaza was nearly empty, though. There were some minyanim, but no video cameras following various choruses of "Siman tov umazal tov," and the majesty of the Wall and the Old City itself was more palpable.

The Palestinian concierge at the hotel (an Old City native) asked me about the day when I got back, and he was shocked and surprised at our having been interested in and having spent time at the churches. I told him also about the walk we'd taken in Jaffa with our two tour guides, and he shared about the complexity and tension he experiences in Israel and in Jerusalem especially. I assured him that the whole point of this trip was to gain maximal experience of the complexity of Israeli society and identity. It was a lovely conversation with which to end the day.

A full day of appointments ahead (starting very soon, so I'm signing off NOW).

rddb

Brief report before I completely collapse from fatigue

Torah study this morning with Yardena Cope-Yossef at Elul (www.elul.org.il) was exquisite.

How great was it? It reminded me of the following opera story:

Early in his career, Enrico Caruso auditioned for Giacomo Puccini, singing the aria "Recondita Armonia," from Tosca. Puccini accompanied Caruso at the piano and at the end of the aria turned to him and asked, "Who sent you to me? God himself?"

Yep. That's how beautiful the Torah study was.

We had great falafel (or shwarma, as the case may have been) lunch at the corner of Emek Refaim and Rachel Imeinu (the center of Jerusalem, as far as I'm concerned), and then went to the Herzl museum and the national cemetery on Har Herzl.

Kol hakavod to the museum for recounting the exciting history of Zionism and the State of Israel without engaging in apologetics or political sleight of hand. It presented the dream, the achievement, and the challenges in a cleverly conceived biopic.

Ok. Can no longer see the computer screen clearly.

Lailah tov!!

Rddb

Special guest blogger for Motzei Shabbat

This blog entry was contributed by JCA member Eliza Gouverneur [with bracketed glossing by rddb]:

Moments from the day. 5/23.

At services at HUC [Reconstructionist Minyan led by Recon rabbinical students on their Israel year] the teaching included words about commitment that are on our [her and Richard Cohen's] ketubah, and today is our 33rd anniversary.

In the first church we visited [in the Old City], built by Anglicans in the mid 19th c., the church guide first apologized to us as Jews for the bad behavior of the British after the Balfour Declaration.

We saw the Meronite Center, for mostly Lebanese Meronite Catholics. It is built like a fortress, with a well in the courtyard. We climbed to the roof for panoramic views of the Old City and spoke about how each group in the city wants to have the tallest or the largest shrine. The walls were of the usual creamy, soft Jerusalem stone, and the trim paint was a wonderful robin's egg blue, like a morning sky.

The Syrian Orthodox Church was an experience. It is said to be the oldest church anywhere, built on the place where some say the last supper was held. Justina, the peppery and passionate church guide, told stories of the miracles she had witnessed there and sang for us in Aramaic both the Lord's Prayer and Psalm 150. Her sweet ardor was very moving.

In a deep, huge cistern, Queen Helena's Well [to which we gained access from the top of the Church of the Holy Sepulchre], we climbed down steep stairs through low doorways and emerged 1600 years below where we entered. The cistern was dug to provide water for the Church of the Holy Sepulchre when it was built. The rabbi sang Kol haneshamah and the echoes and reverberations were like answering voices.

We walked again and again through the vivid, crowded, fragrant, and colorful streets of the markets in the Arab Quarter, jostling crowds and being distracted by every kind of tourist loot, from dates and spices to t-shirts (my favorite: a picture of a phantom jet that said, "America, don't worry, Israel is behind you") to ancient (?) coins to icons to kiddush cups to snack foods to oranges. We trotted along, taking turns to mark the corners we'd turned for stragglers in our group. In the Via Dolorosa we opened a non-descript door and climbed to the home of Sheik Abdul Aziz El Buchari. He truly welcomed us, told us of his family's history, father to son, of Sufi sheiks dating back 1000 years to and ancestor, Imam Al Buchari, who wrote the first book of commentary on the Koran. He was a sufi authority on Koran, equivalent to the Rambam on Torah.

He spoke of Sufi worship coming from the heart, that you can't worship without love. His order of Sufis is called in Uzbecki "carved on stone" and to 'carve' on their heart the love of God, they repeat the name of God in a zikor (like the Hebrew zicharon, remembrance) twice a week, where they call God's name, repeating and repeating until they reach a meditative high, a state between heaven and earth. He says the leave the circle feeling drunk with joy and awaken still singing. His group works for peace and emphasizes our obligation (like all religions, he said) to thank, appreciate, love, honor, and obey God, and to love the other as yourself.

He said that all humans are one family, and asked "If your sone is arrested for committing a crime, what do you do? You go to get him out of jail and help him to become a better person." Sufis, he said, try to love everyone as their family and reach out to them.

As we left, Kylar, Alisha Clarke's son-in-law, who works for the US Consulate here, mentioned that the Sheik works with other groups in Jerusalem toward achieving peace. The Sheik radiated great warmth and centeredness, qualities that will be needed in that effort.

Wine, politics, and art

At the Ein Hod Artists Colony, outside Haifa, on Thursday afternoon. We'd just come from a tasting at the Carmel Winery and talking Israeli-Palestinian politics with Hillel Halkin, hence our very sophisticated effervescence.


Front row (l-r): Phyllis Herda, Aaron Berman, Amy Mittelman, Barbara Janoff, Lee Berlman (tourguide), Hadar Grabel, Norman Cashton, Ellie Adams, Beth Souza.

Second row (l-r): Rabbi David Bauer, Hans Herda, Eliza Gouverneur, Richard Cohen, Karen Loeb, Natasha Nizhnik, Alisha Clarke, Stephen Marvel, Noah Stapleton.

Third row: "Couple in a Sardine Can" by Benjamin Levy.

Wednesday (continued)

The rest of Wednesday morning was spent on a walking tour of Jaffa with two Israeli grad students: Yoav (Jewish) and Wassim (Palestinian/Moslem). The event was organized by by Da'at Travel through (Beit?) Daniel, the Reform Jewish center in Tel Aviv.

The time was fascinating and certainly controversial within our group. We are not of one mind about the experience. I speak for myself here. (It's my rabbinate and I'll blog if I want to, blog if I want to....)

At one point we stood in a park at the top of Jaffa, an open and sculptured public space, looking down on the old port and looking north into Tel Aviv. A city occupies space that was once orange orchards and dunes, and new and beautiful Tel Aviv neighborhoods exist where Manshiya -- the largest Palestinian 'suburb' of Jaffa -- had been. The park itself had been a Jaffan community before the Palestinian uprising against the British. On Tuesday we'd absorbed the romance of the miraculous growth of Tel Aviv through the exquisite and emotional images of Reuven Rubin's artwork. All that made the impact of this session more confusing and conflicted for me.

So many narratives exist simultaneously, layered on top of each other, just as new homes and communities are built on the foundations of old ones. The fulfillment of the Zionist dream is also the story of Palestinian loss. The erasure of Manshiya creates/allows the growth of wonderful Tel Avivi neighborhoods, filled with countless stories and families, where many Jewish artists are flourishing and beautifying the world.

As I heard it, much of the pain our group felt and expressed came from a desire to create a logic and order out of the chaos and disorder of history. Injustices don't cancel each other out, they just pile up. The aspirations of Palestinians for their communities are neither more nor less noble than the Zionists' desires for self-determination and salvation (as Mordecai Kaplan would understand it).

Time spent weighing the pain of one refugee people against another is ultimately, in my opinion, time wasted. My pain doesn't disappear automatically when someone else's pain rises to the surface. We recognize emet, rachamim, tzedek -- truth, compassion, and justice -- as attributes of God. Seder, order, is not. We would do better to collect stories than to order them and trim the loose ends to fit neatly, because stories are extensions of our humanity, and we bleed when we slice them to size.

After a soul-restoring lunch at Dr. Shashuka's (deservedly famous) Restaurant in Jaffa, we spent some time at the Tel Aviv Museum of Art, possibly the first unprofitable appointment of our trip. What we probably really needed was a nap. The collection had some beautiful works (also one hilarious room of "old masters" that included a Rubens, a Gainsborough, and a bust of Rasputin, I kid you not), but we were tired, and the docent was imho unworthy of a major museum.

We spent a lovely hour from 5:30-6:30 with Noam Shmuel, a young director on the staff of the Cameri Theatre. He wasn't totally prepared for the group, but the improvised session was better for us than a more polished presentation would have been. We saw a number of the Cameri's performance spaces, got to watch the L'Chaim scene from their hit production of "Fiddler," and hear about the economic, artistic, and logistical challenges of producing theatre (and building a future theatre-going audience) in Israel.

The group (thank you!!!!) heeded my repeated urgings to over-caffinate or by whatever means necessary summon hidden resources of energy for our 6pm appointment with Ruth Calderon, arguably world's most charismatic Talmud scholar. At Alma, her college of Torah lishmah (Torah study for its own sake), cohorts of Israel's leading TV scriptwriters, rock musicians, artists, journalists and internet writers -- "the cultural creators of current day Israel" -- have been studying Jewish text intensively in 2-year sessions. The words, stories, principles, and "magic" of the text have been seeping into their work. Shout "Halleluyah," somebody.

Alma's way of bringing Jewish learning and the arts together would have pleased both Mordecai Kaplan and Judith Kaplan Eisenstein no end. I feel it's what Reconstructionist Judaism would be if we could get past both (a) the American Jewish lack of Hebrew literacy and (b) what Ruth described as America's "protestant Judaism" as opposed to Israel's "Catholic" one. I experience Ruth as a mega-star. I was unsure whether to shake her hand or ask her to sign my t-shirt. I may be smitten, but I'm not crazy. She's just that luminous.

I had a fab late dinner with Byeager Blackwell, my former boss at the Israeli Opera, while at least four people from our group went back to the Cameri and saw (and somehow stayed awake through????) Fiddler, comped in by Noam.

I'm a day behind in blogging, but I won't be able to report on Thursday's adventures until at least tomorrow. In the meantime, we're at the Dan Panorama in Haifa, and the Mediterranean looks just fine from this window, too.

New Religious Enterprises; a Tour of Jaffa with a Jewish and an Arab guide; amazing food; too much art; a chat with a theater director; and then.....

Yesterday began with our meeting Rabbi Roberto Arbiv, Italian born, oleh, graduate of Machon Schechter, in Jerusalem. running a conservative congregation near Dizengoff Center, talked about the failure in recent years of many synagogues in Tel Aviv. I want to make sure I heard him right -- he said the the TLV Great Synagogue didn't get a minyan on Rosh Hashanah!?!? Huge numbers of synagogues here have just closed. Buildings are now houses or businesses.

A major effort to revive Jewish religious life is coming through the attention of Los Angeles Federation as a 'sister city.' But in any case, everyone is starting to realize the importance of Tel Aviv if one wants to have influence on the real country -- there's no point, he said, in talking in Jerusalem -- so full of extremists.

His current project, for which they just held a successful and exclusive fund-raising concert, is to create a JCC in Neve Tzedek, with a shul, a school, a cafe, and an arts/performance center. I have to say that the focus on Jewish culture and Jewish civilization we've heard everywhere, is very gratifying listening for a Reconstructionist rabbi. Kaplan would be very pleased. Judith Kaplan Eisenstein, would be extremely satisfied.

Rabbi Arbiv does work now within area public schools, an interesting alternative to 'separation of church and state,' that gives families opportunities to do Jewish learning together. My understanding is that it's privately funded through the Conservative Movement (Tali programming....someone correct me if I got this wrong). In South Tel Aviv, he is teaching a class on Judaism in the Weizman school that is 60% moslem. The only school in the TLV-Yafo system that gives classes 1 teacher each in Hebrew and Arabic.

Finally his other project for the last 5 years is teaching "The Path of Avraham" -- together with a Sufi leader, an a Muslim one, they start with meditation, then study alternately and Islamic spiritual text and something from Zohar, then close with and interfaith prayer for peace.

I'll add more later!!

Long but very fun day

Started the day at Bina, the first and only secular yeshiva in (economically depressed) South Tel Aviv. The goal there is linking Jewish learning with social action. Students study there 10+ hours a day, 3-4 days a week and spend 2-3 days a week working in the area community.

Very satisfying, strong teaching from Eran Baruch, the director of Bina, talking about reclaiming the Jewish heritage and resources that were regrettably ceded to the Orthodox rabbinate and community by Ben Gurion in 1948.

I was surprised to learn just how little exposure to Jewish learning Israeli Jews receive in their secular, public schools. It wasn't news, but it was important to be reminded by an Israeli talmud teacher (also an IDF reserve commander -- which matters to me in this context, although I'm not sure why) that the roots of modern Zionism are secular. Any remnant confusion in my mind of the concepts of "Jewish" and "Israeli" were completely demolished by the conversation.

I think because American Jews organize so much around our synagogue communities, we often don't sift out the terminology thoroughly. It is possible to be fully Israeli, literate in modern Hebrew, and to be Jewishly thoroughly uneducated. As Eran said, "In the beginning, Zionism was both secular and profane. They knew the Talmud by heart, but they rebelled. They wanted to create a generation of apikorsim (heretics), but they created instead a generation of ignoramuses."

The purpose of the Yeshiva is "not to make people religious, but to make them aware of their tradition." (Something for me to ponder as a rabbi -- how different is that from my goal?)

Fab shwarma lunch near the Carmel Market today (and great dessert on Sheinkin Street).

Two wonderful and contrasting museum visits:

• The Josef Bau Museum -- a Schindler Jew (in the movie, the one who gets married in the camp) who became Israel's first animation artist and graphic designer. Wonderful stories told by his daughter; witty, moving, and provocative artwork (cartoons, books, cards, posters).
  
• Ruven Rubin -- Roumanian immigrant artist whose work I (embarrassingly) had never known before. Gorgeous paintings, influenced by Van Gogh and Rousseau (among others), charting the history of Tel Aviv and the Zionist enterprise. One final self-portrait of the artist in dialogue with his inspiration/subject, the dove of peace, in a dream-like painting, brought me to tears.
  

Napped at the end of the afternoon, watched the sunset from my hotel room, and had a drink with an opera director colleague and late dinner with a civil-rights lawyer friend.

Morning comes disturbingly soon, so that's the whole report for today. Lailah tov!

Morning comes so early here!

Everyone's wake-up call was set at 7 this morning. I looked out my window onto the all but deserted beach, saw only the people setting up the lounge chairs.

Our first appt of the day is with Eran Baruch of BINA:

• BINA means wisdom; and "A Creative Home for our Nation's Soul" (Haim Nachman Bialik, Israel’s national poet);
• Bina strives to strengthen Israel as a democratic, pluralistic society, emphasizing Humanistic aspects of Judaism. Bina designs and implements innovative educational, cultural and social-action programs for thousands of adults, young-adults and youth throughout Israel, every year.
  
• http://www.bina.org.il/english.htm

Lunch will be at the open market today, near Sheinkin Street. More later!!!

Follow our itinerary

You find the itinerary online at http://j-c-a.org/israel-trip-2009-05-itinerary.pdf or just go to the JCA website and click on the link on the left hand side.

Arrived!!!!!

I think everybody is here. There were 7 of us on my flight, including Ellie Adams who flew East from California and joined our flight at Kennedy.

Very typical El Al experience: the minute people board the plane they start switching seats. Kol haKavod to El Al flight attendants who keep their patience and somehow keep track of where the glatt Kosher meals go as the entire list of assigned seats becomes nonsense. Watching people store carry-on luggage the size of steamer trunks in the overhead compartments also has its entertainment value. The earlier flight had a lot of Birthright kids traveling; ours had more of the Yeshiva-age crowd (slightly less manic).

Jewish geography:
Met one person on the flight who believes his sister's was the first marriage to be celebrated at the JCA (Reaching back into the depths of memory, says "It's a church building right on the corner, right?") Family name "Joffa." Anyone remember this?

Only on El Al:
The very attractive, young Catholic woman sitting next to me (on her way to a college friend's wedding in Petakh Tikvah) got the full El Al security treatment ("Go away for 90 minutes while we search your luggage.") and was given a "Customer Service" escort who stayed glued to her side (including walking her into the ladies room) the entire time she was in JFK. Whatever their suspicions had been while on land, they didn't stop one of the male flight attendants from asking one of his female colleagues to pass her a note (how 9th grade!) with both of his cell-phone numbers and his email address, as we began our descent into Tel Aviv. Yuval. As we deplaned he stepped forward with a smile and introduced himself to her saying "It's me."

We were met at the airport by our wonderfully endearing and energetic guide, Lee Berlman (a Chicago-born olah), and were driven by Ofer (our driver for the tour) to our boutique hotel on the ocean in downtown Tel Aviv. As I got off the elevator, I bumped into Karen Loeb and Barbara Janoff (a New Yorker and a member of Congregation Ahavath Sholom, the Recon synagogue in Great Barrington) as they were headed to the beach.

Oh, yes. It's 90-something degrees here.

Ok. We meet for dinner at 7:30. I'm heading to the beach NOW!

Rddb

Night before the trip

I think I'm packed.

We're on two flights tomorrow. Mine leaves JFK at 8pm. Overnight to Tel Aviv. Dinner Monday night at Lilit Restaurant. Seventeen people on the trip.

We have an amazing itinerary, thanks to the tremendous work of Nimrod Shafran and Cheryl Naeh at Daat Travel (http://www.daattravel.com). We'll see stunning artwork, tour three different cities, each with its own unique culture, and learn Torah from some of the most exciting teachers in the world.

As soon as I figure out the technology, I'll post the full itinerary.

In the meantime, our trip will address two essential questions:

• How does the State of Israel in 2009 re-envision what it means to be religiously and culturally Jewish?
• How much hummus and falafel can 17 people consume in 10 days?