Second Drisha Shabbaton

I was up at 5:45 am on Friday, like normal, and had an easy walk to the train station, and then walked from Penn Station to Drisha, on 65th Street.  There was a conspicuous number of absences in the morning, and I needed to switch minyanim in order to ensure that both groups would have ten people.  Aaron had told us that he would not arrive until around 11:00, so for the first part of class, we listened to recordings that he had made of himself reading, translating, and explaining the day's sugyot (Sanhedrin 46b-47a) the topic of which was the source, Biblical or Rabbinic, of the obligation of burial of the dead, and whether there is in fact any obligation at all, and what the actual purpose of burial of the dead is.  The historical context of this debate was 4th- and 5th-century Iraq, ruled by the (Zoroastrian) Sassanian Persians, who showed honor to their dead by exposing them, rather than burying them beneath the ground.  We discussed this extensively as a class, and, in the context of our conversation on the meaning and significance of the term כפרה‎, I brought out the Mishneh Torah, Hilchot Teshuvah 1:4, which I had fortuitously just learned with Josefin two weeks before.  I'm not certain how much this helped us, though. Abbie and I only had a short amount of time in chevruta to discuss, then the class came together again, after Aaron arrived.

  After shiur, some students gathered together in the Beit Midrash to recite Shir HaShirim together, as it is traditional for some communities, such as the Sepharadi synagogue that I visited in Paris last summer.  I would have liked to have stayed, but Isaac and I had a mission from Devorah to bring the 90-some metal water bottles with the Drisha logo on them bottles to the mikveh.  She needed two men, not because the water bottles were particularly heavy (they weren't), but because the mikveh was open only to men between 1:00 pm and 4:00 pm on Fridays.  We carefully immersed all of the water bottles, and then Isaac brought half of them to the Jewish Center on 86th street, while I returned the other half to the Drisha office, after which sat down to write as much of a Devar Torah as I could.  Unfortunately, I hadn't had much time over the past few nights to collect and consider sources, and I ended up throwing everything together at the last minute.  I got so caught up in what I was doing that I ended up leaving for the place where I was staying the night, Ranana's friend's apartment, rather later than I should have.  She lived on 97th street, and I ended up running into Lani and Avital on the way, which I hadn't expected.  Ranana was already in the apartment when I arrived.  I introduced myself to Sarah Zager, who knows Ranana from Williams, then I showered, and Ranana and I left for the Jewish Center.  Although it was the night of the summer solstice, and therefore the longest day of the year, we welcomed Shabbat in fairly early, following a group meditation on what we wanted our Shabbat experiences to be.  I unfortunately was not entirely mentally present for this, because it was at this time that my body decided to remind me that I had only slept three hours the night before.  However, I did manage to have a good conversation with Ariel, in which I somehow ended up describing Old French, when I had begun by explaining my difficulty on the New York City subway system.

Drisha students were allowed to all go in separate directions, to different synagogues, for Minchah-Kabbalat Shabbat-Ma'ariv; along with about half of the rest of the group, I went to Darchei Noam, a partnership synagogue only a few blocks away.  I had never been to a partnership minyan before, where men lead tefillah, but women lead Kabbalat Shabbat and Pesukei Dezimrah, and receive aliyot; I really enjoyed myself.  The average age of the other congregants was quite young which, for better or for worse, does have something of an impact on my synagogue experience. Avi lead Ma'ariv, very well.  We all walked back together, and I had a good conversation with Aviva on the way.  When we were waiting for dinner, back at the Jewish Center, I had another good conversation with Becka about her first year at college (so exciting!), trying to encourage her, and remind her that, even if initial experiences are negative, there's always a sharp learning curve in every discipline.

During dinner, Avital fought for the other vegetarians' sake, and managed to make certain that we all had something to eat.  Yossi is actually vegan, which is quite unusual (and, I'll add, as difficult to sustain as it is impressive) in the observant Jewish world.  He worked last summer for Shamayim V'Aretz Institute, and was responsible for putting together all sorts of source sheets about animal ethics in halakhah.  Unexpectedly, Aaron Levy and Lazar joined us for dinner.  I was super-excited to see Lazar, so excited that I virtually jumped on him when he walked in the door.  After dinner, we had our tish, and I needed to give my devar Torah.  Ahuva had spoken earlier about the pareshah, and because of this, I could, at least, plunge right into my commentary rather than reviewing the narrative.  I delivered my own devar thinking that I had done a really terrible job, but several people (Shoshana, Julia, Fiona, Rivka, and Raymond in particular) tried to convince me otherwise.  Raymond actually added more to what I had been saying; that guy really knows what he's talking about, not just in Torah, but in other areas as well.  Gavi also tried to lift my spirits too (and needed to ask me about my minyan switch, too).  Abbie actually ended up speaking after me, about the song Tzur Mishelo, and how it actually reflects Birkhat HaMazon rather than any part of Tanakh, as many Jewish songs do.  Eli and Yossi also made a sium, a celebration for having finished a significant milestone in their Jewish learning, the completion of tractate Eruvin of the Talmud.  There was some serious schmoozing going on outside of the Jewish Center, and because it was best for us to walk in groups, most of us waited around.  I became engaged in a very interesting debate with Aaron Levy, doing one of the things that I do best, i.e. deconstructing my own ideas when they are presented to me by other people.  It was a warm night, ideal for loitering underneath the streetlights.

I walked back with a whole group of students.  Because Jon had expressed worry about us walking back alone, Ranana volunteered for the both of us to walk Sarah back to her apartment on 106th Street, only a few blocks north from where we were staying.  Ranana is a really great conversationalist, and I wish that I had had more time to speak with her on our long walk up and down the West side that night.  Afterwards, I fell right asleep, although it was already 1:00 pm.

Unfortunately, I'm not too good at waking up on time when I don't have a clock within my line of sight (one reason why I overslept earlier this week), so I didn't get up until around 8:20 am on Saturday morning.  I had promised to meet Aaron Levy and Lazar at the Spanish-Portuguese Sepharadi synagogue on 70th and Central Park West, which began at 8:30 am (I think -- or maybe it was 8:15 am), so I was late.  I saw Adam Pershan on the way over, who was headed for another synagogue.  I arrived towards the end of Pesukei Dezimrah.  I recited the principal 6 Tehillim of PD, and arrived at Yishtabach at the same time as the cantor.  So, everything worked out.

Before I go any further with this report, I need to describe the Spanish-Portuguese synagogue itself.  First of all, with the exception of the Moorish-style Great Synagogue of Florence, it is the grandest synagogue I have ever entered.  It has an incredibly high ceiling with multiple layers of molding, stained glass windows that flood the sanctuary with light, and a reading/leading bimah in the sanctuary's middle.  The women, rather than being separated by a Mechitzah, stand in a separate balcony gallery; my female friends told me afterwards that they felt as if they had more active participation in this way than they do when they are on a different side, rather than a different story, of the synagogue from the men who are performing the service.  The cantors wear long black robes and special low cylindrical black caps.  Many of the other men in the congregation wear round white straw hats, and all males -- even those below Bar Mitzvah age, must wear a Tallit Gadol (I'm used to this, but most of my Ashkenazic peers probably aren't).  At Petichah, when one of the congregation members opened the ark for the Sefer Torah for the Torah service, I was amazed to see that there were not three or four Sifrei Torah as I had expected, but more than a dozen, all wrapped in scarlet cloths!  I felt as if I were looking at a vault of Sifrei Torah!  On top of the ark was also a carving of the two tablets, which depicted them as having all right angles.  This is significant because, in fact, according to a literal reading of the Biblical text, the tablets did not have rounded tops, even though they are always pictured in this way (I don't know why exactly; by default, though, I blame Renaissance artwork).  However, by far the most noticeable feature of the Spanish-Portuguese synagogue was the presence of a choir!  Really!  They're very good, and have first-class acoustics (they're located above the ark).  Discussing the service afterwards with my peers, we all agreed that the entire atmosphere, though Jewish in content, was somewhat churchlike in form.  Ariel was called up for an aliyah at the Torah; however, men were not permitted to ascend the bimah to read Torah unless they were wearing neckties!  So one man generously removed his own tie, and lent it to Ariel, so that Ariel could have his aliyah!  The whole practice strikes me as so enigmatic -- why does this rule even exist in the first place?  Who was the person first to have the nerve to try to ascend the bimah without a necktie, that made the synagogue institute this rule in the first place.  Throughout the service, I sat with Lazar, who made me laugh at the most inopportune moments.  Ben-Tzion was sitting behind us, and I felt very guilty at the possibility of distracting him

At the kiddush afterwards, they served sacramental wine, i.e. the very sweet wine typically used at Catholic communions, which just confused things even more.  I tried to speak to Ben-Tzion in Hebrew, and ended up making a total fool of myself.  I also spoke to Victoria, and managed to finally articulate just what I had been trying to say about the Micah Haftorah the night before in my devar Torah.  Pretty much, I had focused in on Micah 6:5, עַמִּי זְכָר נָא מַה יָּעַץ בָּלָק מֶלֶךְ מוֹאָב וּמֶה עָנָה אֹתוֹ בִּלְעָם בֶּן בְּעוֹר מִן הַשִּׁטִּים עַד הַגִּלְגָּל לְמַעַן דַּעַת צִדְקוֹת יְהֹוָה ("My people, remember now what Balak king of Moav planned, and what Bil'am the son of Be'or answered him. From Shittim to Gilgal, may you recognize the righteous deeds of the Lord").  Specifically, the key term was מֶה עָנָה אֹתוֹ בִּלְעָם. I was arguing that Micah was essentially delivering a devar Torah, trying to make a point by reminding Jews of a particular section of a narrative passage from the Torah.  Bil'am's replies to Balak (I guessed that Micah was referring to 23:26, "הֲלֹא דִּבַּרְתִּי אֵלֶיךָ לֵאמֹר כֹּל אֲשֶׁר יְדַבֵּר יְהֹוָה אֹתוֹ אֶעֱשֶׂה," because it seemed to be the most relevant reply, although this is only supposition) are not frequently brought up as the most critical and important elements of the narrative in our own times.  We tend to focus more on Bil'am's blessings of the people; the Rabbis really enjoyed "מַה טֹּבוּ אֹהָלֶיךָ יַעֲקֹב מִשְׁכְּנֹתֶיךָ יִשְׂרָאֵל," and used it to speak about the laws of personal privacy, for instance.  However, in Micah's times, the people's needs were different, so Micah emphasized a different passage of this Torah narrative.  This was especially significant, because Bil'am was not Jewish (as far as I can tell, he is the only non-Jew to speak in song or poetry throughout the entire Tanakh, with the exception of Sefer Iyov), and yet his prophecies have shaped Jewish self-perception.  This has been the case throughout Jewish history.  The Jews certainly became more self-conscious about their circumcision when the kingdom of Judea fell under Syrian Greek dominion (the 7 Canaanite nations, the Phoenicians, and the Egyptians all circumcised their sons) because the Greeks scorned this particular aspect of the Jewish body, which ran contrary to the Greek ideal of beauty (see Aristophanes's Ἀχαρνεῖς for a good example of this).  When Christianity became a distinct entity from Judaism in the early 4th century, both Jews and Christians consciously acted to differentiate themselves from the the other group.  In medieval Christian Europe, when Jews were forced to wear headgear, and, in the medieval Muslim world, to wear distinct headgear and sashes in their dimi status.  Following the rise of National Socialism in the early 20th century, Jews began to think of themselves in the very racial terms that their antagonists had assigned to them.  However, Jews should not be passive objects in these definitions of identity in essence; rather, they should take hold of and accept these definitions.  For example, in medieval Europe, the enforced Jewish headgear became a sign of pride rather than of shame among the Jewish communities; there are Jewish depictions of Moses wearing such a pointed hat, showing to the extent that they identified Judaism with this feature.  Likewise, the Torah proudly records Bil'am's prophecies about the Jewish people, making deliberate parallels between Bil'am and the Avot (especially Avraham Avinu), and the Rabbis write in even more parallels, even arguing that the line from Deuteronomy לֹא קָם בְּיִשְׂרָאֵל כְּמשֶׁה עוֹד indicates that Bil'am was at least as great a prophet as Moses (here's Wendy giving a great Devar Torah on just this subject <3).  However, I stuttered over my words so much on Friday night that I didn't get most of these words out!  Also, Raymond pointed out to me that Bil'am is a descendant of Midian, a son of Avraham by his wife Keturah/קְטוּרָה (see Genesis 25:2), which further strengthens the Avraham-Bil'am parallel.  Also, Victoria spoke to the cantor, and found out that this synagogue might be the home of the oldest religious Jewish community in North America, which is really incredible!

We all walked back to the Jewish Center for Shabbat lunch.  Lani had davened there, and had seen Leon Davis, who is in the city this summer; I really wish that I had been able to see him.  Another contingent of Drisha students had returned to Darchei Noam, and Esther had even received an Aliyah!  Also, much to my surprise, just a few meters before I entered, I saw Judah Rosenblatt, Rivka's older brother and a Cornell alumnus who I partially knew before he graduated, walking out!  We're mutual friends with Sam Moss, and I spoke to him a little bit about his Teach For American experience.  Avital and Adam both gave pre-lunch chaburot.  I attended Adam's, about the the passages in the Talmud that cryptically state that although the Halakhah ("way" or "law") is one way, we do not act in this way.  One of them I had already learned with Rav Ami, in the context of cooking on Shabbat; others had to do with sharpening knives on festivals, and wearing tefillin after dark.  We then compared these to a Rashi responsum stating that although it was his opinion that, although it was technically permitted by the Torah to collect interest on loans through an agent, if this teaching were actually abided by, then it would destroy Jewish society, and have the disastrous consequences that the the law stood up to prevent in the first place.  Raphi contributed some very good comments.  I personally thought that, among other differences between the examples in the Talmud and that brought to Rashi, those in the Talmud are chukim, ritual ordinances, and dictated the relationship between humans and Hashem, whereas Rashi's case was that of a mishpat, a political law, dictating relationships among human beings.  During lunch, Raymond got in a very intense, interesting discussion with Mati and some of the other people sitting at our table about the necessary (or unnecessary) strictness of modern Jews for such laws as Shomer Negiah.  Fiona also answered people's questions about the Spanish-Portuguese community, because her family is Spanish-Portuguese.  After lunch, a group of students walked to Central Park to play improv games, under Lani's leadership.  It was so-so; I've had better improv experiences before (Marissa, you're still my best improv partner ever <3; Jeff and Lauren, you're still the funniest improv couple I know).  One of the improv skits had me being very mean to Sherona, which made me hurt a little bit, because she's such a sweet person, and I felt bad about even pretending to throw question her intelligence, which is exactly what I did.

We were back at Drisha at 5:30, and three more students gave chaburot.  I listened to Avi's which was based on his senior this.  He was discussing synoptic parallels in Mishnah Ta'anit, i.e. parts of one section of the Mishnah that shared an origin with other texts.  If I understood him correctly, he ended up showing, with the help of some geniza fragments of Ben Sira, that the Mishnah was drawing elements from the Tosefta that pre-dated the Rabbinic era, and actually dated back to the Second Temple era.  He also included a passage from the Talmud Bavli, the significance of which I didn't really grasp.  He's a very erudite guy, and is definitely one of the most learned students here at Drisha.

Following this, we had Minchah, and, following that, Rabbi Silber gave a shiur on the character of Yoash in Sefer Shmuel and the beginning of Sefer Melachim.  He made some very interesting points about this Biblical hitman, and how David and Solomon used him in various ways at various times, and how, at other times, he acted of his own initiative, sometimes more concerned for the future of the House of David than David himself.  Really, the shiur just made we want to re-read all of Sefer Melachim!  One of the things that I really enjoy about Drisha is the intellectual honesty with which the instructors approach canonical texts.  Orthodoxy can't always approach with honesty, and neither, in my opinion, can secular scholars; the former are often too willing to excuse, sterilize, and apologize; the latter are too eager to attack and degrade.

At Seudah Shlishit, Denise gave the Devar Torah that she had prepared.  Ma'ariv and Havdallah followed.  After Shabbat was over (which, because Jon was there, necessarily involved some pretty ecstatic dancing), we had an open-mic event, kind of like a talent show, but more fun.  Raphi performed two pieces on the guitar, and (deservedly) received a standing ovation.  Netanya delivered some very emotional slam-poetry that she had composed herself, and Adam sang (?) something that he characterized as a "Scottish poem."  Rivka, Fiona, Julia, and Shoshana all performed the "cup song," which is apparently a camp thing, and then Brenda, Fiona, and Julia tried very hard to rap some nursery rhymes, but laughed too hard to sing; luckily, Raphi came to the rescue, and bailed them out by beatboxing for them, and keeping a steady rhythm.  Adi and Ariel performed a humorous dialogue making fun of Americans trying to speak Hebrew, and Israelis trying to speak English, and had most of the room in stitches.  Eli spontaneously gave us his impression of the last 2 minutes of the movie "Titanic," and the last act, performed by our very own Rivka Rosenblatt was -- a startlingly convincing horse impression.  More than anything else, it reminded me of how I imagine the Houyhnhnms in Gulliver's Travels to communicate.  She felt so embarrassed, and so we all had to support her, and remind her that she was among friends, who were not going to think less of her.  Pretty much what she and everyone else had done for me after my devar Torah.

Ranana and I walked back to Sarah Zager's apartment with some other students.  There were two goodbyes that night: Daniel and Avital.  I fell asleep almost immediately, but not before I saw that I had received a distress signal from a certain special person overseas right now, who really had needed to talk to me, while it was still Shabbat in the United States, but I had been unavailable.  The next morning, I bought my suit for Andrew's wedding, called Sam and my Mother, and took the train back to New Jersey.  After making a necessary Skype call, I wasted a fair amount of time, and procrastinated working further on the spiel.  Still, somehow I managed to finish this post before 1:00 am.

Have a fun week, whoever you are, wherever you are!

~JD