It is absolutely appropriate to consider food wastage and socio-cultural practices in preparing Shabbat meals.  What is Shabbat if not an opportunity to live at our highest and to evaluate our week’s work and or movement toward the week to come?  What better way to say thank you to the Universe or Divine power or the planet than by consciously preparing sustainable, healthy meals for the day of rest.

Judaism is a diverse set of practices and beliefs and has evolved throughout the centuries.  Our ability to adapt and change, based on cultural learnings, has helped Judaism thrive and helped Judaism find relevancy for its members and the larger world. Nothing Jewish started as Jewish.  We have, like all religious communities, adapted the culture around us to fit our teachings and our style.

Soup with dumplings is European, bagels…Polish, the standard melody for Shema (our central creed, if we had a creed) comes from High German church organ music, and the whole style of public prayer in western modern Synagogues is modeled after European Protestant Christianity.

And then there is kashrut (keeping kosher).  Eco-Kosher, developed through Reconstructionist Jewish teachers, has been around as a concept only for several decades, but its origins are biblical.  Using the whole animal in the meal before leaving Egypt is part of our Passover story. Offering healthy fruits and animals for meal sacrifices is part of Levitical culture.  And, raising herds without blemish (clean and healthy) is a mandate for offering them as sacrifices. 

Maybe, if we were more conscious about our food choices for Shabbat and other holidays, and didn’t rely on cultural norms for food, that really only date back several hundred years or less, more people would be attracted to our Shabbat tables.  With locally sourced, organic, healthy, and sustainable portions, everyone could eat at our table and we could teach about the gift of the bounty of the earth and the blessing of farmers and of those who cook the food we eat. We could teach about feeding the hungry and balance.  We could remind people that Torah teaches real lessons for today as a living life text.  And our food ethics would ultimately reinforce our beliefs.  Imagine that Shabbat table!

From my perspective, in the Reform Movement, one hope is for the coming of a Messianic Age and not a particular Messiah. In making this shift in perspective, the Movement made a choice to let go of the idea that we would need a third temple in Jerusalem to bring about this possibility. The idea that Judaism is centered around the world and that from this vantage point we can bring about great change, including peace and healing, negates the need for a Temple in Jerusalem to support that change. In fact, a Temple in Jerusalem would just confuse the matter as it would call for a reinstatement of the priestly cult and ritual sacrifice, both of which would conflict with much of liberal Jewish belief and practice around the globe. Rebuilding the Temple also brings with it the threat of world war, as it would require destruction of 2 of the most important Mosques in Muslim tradition.

 

The answer is complicated by the diversity of Jewish movements and the diversity of expressions within those movements. I suggest searching around to see how each movement, beyond the Reform Movement, views the resurrection of a Temple in Jerusalem and the priestly cult that goes with it. It can be an interesting study, one that could begin with looking at the internal conflicts our movements present with prayer books that pray for rebuilding and sermons that defy it.

 

On another note, I heard a great line from a rabbi today. He said that one of his traditional rabbinic teachers said, about mourning the destruction of the temple, “I said Kaddish (the mourner’s prayer) for my father for one year and I said Kaddish for my mother for one year… enough with mourning the Temple already!”

 

Finally, ‘sovereignty’ does not preclude the religious question of Temple reconstruction. Israel is a real, political, national entity maintaining a separation of “Temple and State”, at least on paper. Rebuilding a Temple in Jerusalem has more to do with what Judaism will mean in this and the next generations than what Israel means as a homeland for the Jews. In fact, many who support Israel might find themselves in conflict if the national religion included a dedicated Temple cult in the capital and others might choose to see the country as finally complete with the Temple rebuilt, where now the country is a only a holding place for their ideal Israel.

 

Jewish ritual is beautiful and has deep meaningful lessons to teach. The more we know about ways to explain these rituals to others, the more we will engage our own community. It’s not just the other who thinks circumcision in a ritual celebration is bizarre. Many of the young Jews I encounter are asking the same questions about the ritual and why we/they should still practice it.

 

In a world devoid of much meaningful ritual, Judaism has the potential to open people up and better their lives and the life of the planet. Shabbat teaches real rest and revitalization, while it teaches that we are not responsible for creating the world and owe respect to the beauty and fragility of the planet. Kashrut, in all forms of keeping kosher from the most orthodox to eco-kosher teaches about the relationship we have with our food sources and the treatment of animals, vegetation, humanity, our bodies, delivery systems, sustainability, our energy footprint, and thankfulness that goes beyond our own lives. Circumcision too can awaken our questions about belonging and communal responsibility, and about biblical stories and rabbinic teachings.

 

Judaism is a vibrant and beautifully woven fabric of questions and lessons. To be afraid to speak them, limits their value in our lives and in being a light to the nations. This is not about proselytizing. This is about knowing enough of what Judaism offers us, to see the value in sharing what guides us with others. While it may bring them in closer contact with Jewish learning and practice, it also may strengthen their own desire to learn more about their own religious roots and that can also make the world a better place. What better gift can we give ourselves and others than a sense that religious ritual, with all the questions and stories it brings up, can make a difference in our lives. THe more we learn, in order to teach, the more we are able to engage as well.

In my experience working with many 20-40 something adult Jews, from all the movements in Judaism, most of what they identify as what makes them Jewish today is the memories created when they were children.  Whether it was attending synagogue with a grandparent, helping prepare food for a holiday meal, or reading a favorite story with an older sibling, these memories do more to shape the Jewish identity of an adult than much of the information they are fed along the way.  My sense is that the more positive memories a child has, that relate to forming Jewish identity and practice, the more stable that identity will be through their teen and young adult years, enabling them to pass on Jewish identity through the generations.

It is also my experience, that the age of bar mitzvah, although the time when we are told, through rabbinic teaching, our children’s souls belong to them and are no longer in our keeping, is not the age of letting go of parental control of memory shaping.  When bat mitzvah becomes the age of “you are done with forced learning and free to make your own religious choices” most children haven’t reached the age of abstract reasoning and can’t figure out how to successfully continue their engagement with religious or spiritual practice.  It may have been that prior to the industrial revolution and the invention of adolescence, children were able to make the transition to self determination out of necessity.  Now, we have a long period of growth and experimentation before having to be fully accountable for our own actions and choices.

My suggestion is that parents choose Jewish rituals and practices that are supported by the context in which their children live and the memories they want to successfully transfer to their children.  And, that the practice of parental choice be held until children can reason, in both concrete and abstract ways, as to why they should no longer observe these practices, adapt them, or pick up new ones.  At that point, a parent may know that their child has a deep sense of the ritual or practice and owns its place in his or her life.  What is given up now, during adolescence, can be easily reincorporated or adapted later in life.

A parent should never have to force religious practice on a child.  What feels like pushing away a forced behavior may just be a child wondering what this ritual or practice has to do with his or her life.  If there is no context for the practice, it will feel forced and alien.  These practices are likely to be pushed away whenever the child has choice, never to be reintroduced as they had no real meaning when forced in the first place.  A parent will have a much easier time engaging a child in religious practice, if it makes sense to the child based on parental behavior and family context. 

By making them anonymous, the community comes to understand that giving is a part of life and each should give according to her or his ability. What is relevant is the act of donating, not the recognition for the donor. We are taught that even the poorest of the community has an obligation to contribute. By keeping donors anonymous, each can give to her or his ability and not feel shame in the amount that can be contributed.

 

By celebrating the giver, others may give to also be celebrated. On some level, the act of giving is often motivated by recognition. While this is not the highest form of giving, when the giver and receiver are known to each other and the community is also aware of who gave what, giving is still important. Even the lowest form of giving is important and may lead to moving up the giving ladder. Maimonides taught of 8 levels of giving, with giving with recognition in the middle of the ladder. The way to elevate giving is to increase dignity and decrease embarrassment. The more we achieve these two modes of operating, the high up the ladder we go.

 

With that said, recognition of donors can be done in multiple and respectful ways. Names on a plaque are appropriate and, by not listing people by amount given but by alphabet, all donors are thanked equally. Those who can afford $18 are recognized equally with those who gave $18,000. In many cases, the $18 gift is a bigger sacrifice for that family than the $18,000 may be for the ones who can contribute out of a family fund rather than their own bank account.

 

Another way of achieving this goal of balanced recognition is to host a celebration and invite all donors. Again, no one needs to be judged or judge based on amounts given, but the gift from the heart and wallet is recognized.

 

The Talmud teaches that after a plague took the lives of thousands of Rabbi Akiva’s students, it ended on the 33^rd day of the counting of the Omer.   A yearly celebration was established to celebrate the end of the plague. Rabbi Akiva then taught Rabbi Shimon Bar Yochai.  He was purported to be the greatest teacher of his generation.  He is also held as the author of the Zohar, the most important text of the Kabbalah (Jewish mysticism.) His death is commemorated on Lag B’Omer tying it to his teacher and the seminary he attended.

With this history, it makes sense that an “almost pagan” celebration would develop.  The bon fires of Israel and the drunken parties of the Chassids show the Jewish desire to celebrate with heart, soul, and body when we can commemorate the end of great tragedy combined with the joy of learning.

Pagan like practices exist throughout Jewish ritual practice and celebrations.  They were a part of our history in early Israelite practices and often worked their way into more modern practices as they are ritually and spiritually connective.  Drunken dancing at Simchat Torah, masked parties at Purim, and kissing Torah scrolls as they are marched around the sanctuary on Shabbat create visceral connections for Jews often experiencing Judaism with their heads as if disembodied. For many Judaism is all about words and asking questions.

In some Reform congregations, the celebrations of Shabbat are shifting to include more freeform dancing to drumming prayers.  A little more “pagan’ might not be so bad!

By merging these two commemorations, we link the spiritual nature of the older tradition with the practical memorial of one in our generation. As time moves forward, and the Holocaust becomes a distant memory, they merger would create an everlasting link grounded in a religious tradition of tying ancient rites with later experience. It does, however, make sense to wait a few generations before making this change. While holocaust survivors and their children inhabit the earth, it makes sense to honor them and the memory of their families by not reminding them that someday their experience will be part of history; albeit a sacred story handed down generation to generation. For now, allowing for separate commemoration honors those who lived the horror.

 

Finaly, combining these holidays would raise the Holocaust to the memorial level of the destruction of the Temple in the active memory of the community. And, for members of the Jewish world who value human life above civic and religious structures, making this link also elevates the destruction of the Temple to that of a great loss of life. Either way, one elevates the other, and the holiday has greater meaning for more members of the community than either did before.

 

While it may seem unusual to transfer the recitation of a name to a group of people who don’t know the person whose name they list, taking something personal and passing it to strangers, it may serve several valuable purposes. For one, the person who is intended to say Kaddish, and passes on the practice to a congregation, has the freedom of knowing the connection with their loved one is there whenever they tune in, as they return to work and ordinary life. Another reason to transfer Kaddish is that if it is known by a dying person, it may help her to know that her name will be heard daily for the next year. This transitional space, between life - and the death of memory that comes with time - is lengthened a year and possibly through eternity if the congregation continues to read the name on the Yartzeit (anniversary of the death) each year following. It is the practice of some Jewish communities to pass their list to another congregation if they are dissolving for lack of membership or financial hardship.

 

Finally, while “obligation” may not resonate with Reform Jews, one may choose to offer financial support to any Jewish community by giving them the honor of doing a mitzvah of remembering. In this way, a donation comes with a return action, recitation of the name, and both parties can feel a sense of “doing” for the other rather than receiving a handout. This mitzvah of remembering can be a continued gift in the memory of someone for whom supporting Jewish community was important. Reform Judaism teaches that "eternal life" is what remains of us in the memory of future generations. If a group of Jews recite an unfamiliar name, there is still an understanding that this person carred about community and that in and of itself can be an eternal connection.

When can dressing in “drag” (Jewish “drag” that is) save your life?  When there is a royal edict for your murder and pretending to be a Jew will spare your head. 

Towards the end of the Purim story, found in the Book of Esther in the Bible, the King is made aware that the only way to reverse his edict to wipe out the Jews is to find another group of people to murder in their place.  So that the story ends with mitigated bloodshed, some of the people take on the appearance of Jews to save their lives.  Chapter 8 verse 17 states that they “Taken on the appearance of Jews”, “Mit’Yahadim” in the Hebrew.  Had they had a full blown conversion to Judaism, the word “Mit’Gayarim” “They became Us” would have been used.  From this reading of the story, it follows that costuming in commemoration of the holiday makes sense. How we got to a place where dressing as Spiderman for Purim in Israel makes sense, that is a question for another day?

The second part of your question takes a bit more thought and a personal response.  I am not sure how Israel’s statehood and standing army creates “insensitivity’ by continuing to celebrate Purim.  However, I do understand that celebrating holidays that commemorate the mass destruction of others, for our benefit, does not follow from the values that exemplify Jewish life and Jewish choices. The celebration of Purim, Chanukkah, and Passover all carry with them the challenge of commemorating the destruction of others to support our own growth and development as a people and a religion.  Whether it is the neighboring people of Shushan, the Jews who assimilated during the Assyrian occupation of Jerusalem, or the Pharaoh’s army and the first born males of Egypt, commemorating these losses with joy runs counter to Jewish moral sensibilities.

Every year as we approach these Holidays, I remind my community and the people I celebrate with, that these stories are just that… “stories”.  They are intended to teach us truths about human nature while keeping us connected to a history of wrestling with difficult questions about human frailty, power, and the delicate balance between the two. A piece of Purim celebrations is intended to remind us of the power of people to change human destiny and the unforeseen consequences of making those changes.  While Esther and Mordechai intend to save the Jews, the story does not support that they also intended the destruction of others in their place.  That loss of life is the unintended consequence of their ability to make change. 

As we have seen so many times over, when nations go into other nations to assist governmental change for the betterment of the people, and to save lives, we often put in place new challenges to the structures and dynamics of the citizens found there.  The loss of life generated by new regimes, created by the shifting of the balance of power, is part of the unintended effect of the potentially noble efforts generating change in the first place.  Reading and engaging the the sotries of our past enables us to reconsider our actions and give us the potential to act with broader vision.  By retelling the story in a way that allows us to connect fully, as costumes open us up to “be” the characters we read about, we are better able to see beyond the immediate result of our actions prior to making a bigger mess of hte world.

Wouldn’t it be amazing if, one day soon, celebration of Jewish holidays would lead to thought and behavior that would ultimately change the course of human existence toward unmitigated good?  For that, I suggest we hold a royal costume ball.