In my professional meeting with Avital Moshe, the director of youth and young adult programs at the Interreligious Coordinating Council in Israel, I started thinking a lot about what are the ultimate goals of getting different types of peoples together. When we are raised from such a young age to believe certain things about a particular type of person, is it actually meaningful to have an encounter program? What impact will it really have? Or is the goal, like Avital put it for the ICCI, for Jews and Arabs to see that they are capable of working together to create something? While I think this goal is the most practical and optimistic, I would really like to see someday what, if any, impact their efforts have. How closely do they stay in touch with their participants following the program? It doesn't seem like they really do. While there is so much working against the ICCI and other groups like it, it's admirable that they try so hard.
This issue made me think about the program I'd like to create. My initial "social action" issue was really the low state of Jewish literacy among American Jews. I initially thought about doing an interfaith program because I thought Jews (and Muslims probably too) would be attracted to such an environment out of curiosity and they would be more likely to absorb more information because they are looking at Judaism and Islam in contexts of each other and zooming in on certain issues within the faiths. Less useful I think is a goal that these Muslim and Jewish teenagers in America see that they can work together. While that is important in any context (and they will co-teach at the end of the program), cooperation and coexistence are much more applicable in Israel where it's literally a life or death situation if Arabs and Jews don't figure out how to live together.
Avital recommended I really think about and get plenty of advice on how to handle text study with Muslims and Jews. From her experience--they do some text study with young adult groups at the ICCI--Muslims and Jews approach their texts in very different ways. While Jews, she says, are comfortable with the chevrutah model and with debating and questioning what they are reading, Muslims are less familiar with this style. Believing Muslims hold steadfastly to the idea that the Qur'an is the direct word from G-d to the angel Gabriel as told to and transcribed by the Prophet Muhammad. The Qur'an is unchanging throughout history. This philosophy is in contrast to the way many Jews approach Torah. While some Jews believe the Torah is unchanging, divine word, many believe it to be divinely inspired or written by human beings over different periods of time who have edited the text.
For this very crucial point, it is essential that the Muslim co-facilitator and Jewish co-facilitator take the program and make sure text study is done in a comfortable or at least non-offensive way for both Muslims and Jews.
Thursday, May 20, 2010
Monday, May 10, 2010
Interreligious Coordinating Council in Israel
I had a terrific meeting recently with Avital, the director of youth and young adult programs at the ICCI. I want to share a few aspects of that meeting.
She is currently running a dialogue group for young adult Jerusalemites--Christian Arabs, Jewish Israelis, Muslim Arabs, Arab Palestinians and Arab Israelis. Pretty clear how complex these groups can get. While the program I'm creating is simply about bringing two different religious groups together, Avital told me in Israel people simply cannot separate their religious identities from their national identities. These identities are wrapped up in one another here.
I wonder how complex our identities are in comparison. For myself, I am aware of my identities as a Jew, as an American and as a Zionist, and while these come with their own intricacies, it seems enormously different from the identity struggles of Jerusalemites. In a city that has changed hands so many times and is so religiously and politically polarized, in a city in which not all of the citizens feel at home or at all identified (or identified as anti), it's very different from political/social/religious identities in American cities.
The Jerusalem dialogue group takes tours in Jerusalem of problematic areas like East Jerusalem, the group talks about troubling political and religious issues they face in their communities, and designs a program together as a group to do for their communities. For example, groups in the past have run film festivals or cultural events that incorporate common themes of Jerusalem or bring to light all of their identities. Avital says it's important for the group to see most of all that by working together they can accomplish something. Initially this sounded pretty cheesy to me. But then I remembered where I was. This isn't Palo Alto, CA. It is actually extraordinarily difficult to get groups to work together in Jerusalem. Participants walk away with new understandings of the other groups in Jerusalem and might even continue some of their new friendships. The ICCI selects people to participate in the group who plan to work in dialogue, peace, religion, politics or social work. The experience of really facing the city in which they live is an important step on their way to whatever professional goals they have. It surprised me, but Avital said that for many of the group's participants, when they take tours of Jerusalem, it's the first time visiting many of the sites. It just really shows how segregated the city is.
I love the idea of participant voice and choice, and especially in the context of this dialogue group. These young adults need to be empowered or nothing will ever change here.
She is currently running a dialogue group for young adult Jerusalemites--Christian Arabs, Jewish Israelis, Muslim Arabs, Arab Palestinians and Arab Israelis. Pretty clear how complex these groups can get. While the program I'm creating is simply about bringing two different religious groups together, Avital told me in Israel people simply cannot separate their religious identities from their national identities. These identities are wrapped up in one another here.
I wonder how complex our identities are in comparison. For myself, I am aware of my identities as a Jew, as an American and as a Zionist, and while these come with their own intricacies, it seems enormously different from the identity struggles of Jerusalemites. In a city that has changed hands so many times and is so religiously and politically polarized, in a city in which not all of the citizens feel at home or at all identified (or identified as anti), it's very different from political/social/religious identities in American cities.
The Jerusalem dialogue group takes tours in Jerusalem of problematic areas like East Jerusalem, the group talks about troubling political and religious issues they face in their communities, and designs a program together as a group to do for their communities. For example, groups in the past have run film festivals or cultural events that incorporate common themes of Jerusalem or bring to light all of their identities. Avital says it's important for the group to see most of all that by working together they can accomplish something. Initially this sounded pretty cheesy to me. But then I remembered where I was. This isn't Palo Alto, CA. It is actually extraordinarily difficult to get groups to work together in Jerusalem. Participants walk away with new understandings of the other groups in Jerusalem and might even continue some of their new friendships. The ICCI selects people to participate in the group who plan to work in dialogue, peace, religion, politics or social work. The experience of really facing the city in which they live is an important step on their way to whatever professional goals they have. It surprised me, but Avital said that for many of the group's participants, when they take tours of Jerusalem, it's the first time visiting many of the sites. It just really shows how segregated the city is.
I love the idea of participant voice and choice, and especially in the context of this dialogue group. These young adults need to be empowered or nothing will ever change here.
Monday, May 3, 2010
Something that has challenged me this year in this class is...
Easily, the physical distance from the JSL class has presented some challenges. What comes to mind is a Martin Buber text from Between Man and Man that Jenni sent me back in March: "We are to converse with one another and not at or past one another...There are no gifted and ungifted here, only those who give themselves and those who withhold themselves."
I haven't been able to physically face my colleagues and converse with them the last several months. It has not felt like the "I-thou" relationships I feel like I formed in the fall. That is, last semester I learned from my colleagues and I felt as though they also were learning from me. I developed tremendous respect for them, their views and the work they do in the Jewish community. It was not a utilitarian relationship. I got to know them as people also, not just for their resource potential. This semester I haven't had much contact with my fellow students. I miss the class time and discussions from the fall. I know I lost a lot of what is great about being part of a JSL cohort because I was not in the Bay Area. Still, being in touch with Jenni and Mara has made this experience a valuable one. I have continued to learn and make progress in this class because of their feedback, resources and reflection prompts.
I feel like I gave of myself this semester, but probably not to the extent that I could have had I physically been present in the class. The opportunities to give of myself are just different. I give of myself independently of others, whereas last semester I gave my thoughts and work to those around me. By writing on this blog, I hoped to give something of myself to others. I wonder if anyone has read this?
I know my fellow students have not withheld themselves, but I'm a little saddened that I have not seen or really heard anything concrete they have done this semester. Certainly via Jenny's emails I have been kept up-to-date on what topics are being discussed. I should have reached out to my fellow students, but I wasn't quite sure how best to do this. I would have loved to know more about their capstone projects, the session discussions, the teaching they have done this semester, ideas that came up, just generally their contributions and progress in the class. I know it will never be as if I were there, but I wonder how I could have been more in touch. I missed the connections we formed as a group last semester.
Everyone in this class is gifted. I guess the distance factor presented new challenges that I hope future distance learners can work to improve for themselves and for reaching their colleagues.
I haven't been able to physically face my colleagues and converse with them the last several months. It has not felt like the "I-thou" relationships I feel like I formed in the fall. That is, last semester I learned from my colleagues and I felt as though they also were learning from me. I developed tremendous respect for them, their views and the work they do in the Jewish community. It was not a utilitarian relationship. I got to know them as people also, not just for their resource potential. This semester I haven't had much contact with my fellow students. I miss the class time and discussions from the fall. I know I lost a lot of what is great about being part of a JSL cohort because I was not in the Bay Area. Still, being in touch with Jenni and Mara has made this experience a valuable one. I have continued to learn and make progress in this class because of their feedback, resources and reflection prompts.
I feel like I gave of myself this semester, but probably not to the extent that I could have had I physically been present in the class. The opportunities to give of myself are just different. I give of myself independently of others, whereas last semester I gave my thoughts and work to those around me. By writing on this blog, I hoped to give something of myself to others. I wonder if anyone has read this?
I know my fellow students have not withheld themselves, but I'm a little saddened that I have not seen or really heard anything concrete they have done this semester. Certainly via Jenny's emails I have been kept up-to-date on what topics are being discussed. I should have reached out to my fellow students, but I wasn't quite sure how best to do this. I would have loved to know more about their capstone projects, the session discussions, the teaching they have done this semester, ideas that came up, just generally their contributions and progress in the class. I know it will never be as if I were there, but I wonder how I could have been more in touch. I missed the connections we formed as a group last semester.
Everyone in this class is gifted. I guess the distance factor presented new challenges that I hope future distance learners can work to improve for themselves and for reaching their colleagues.
Monday, April 26, 2010
Identity in group dynamic
"Nothing stands before [the duty of] saving life except for idolatry, incest and murder."
Source: Talmud Bavli, Yoma 82a (AJWS translation)
Today in my Women and Mitzvot course this text came up in discussion. If a Jew is faced with either committing any of these acts or dying, the Jew should choose death. Why these acts in particular? I suppose they represent the worst things a human being can do. They are uncivilized, really dehumanizing and they violate basic laws the Torah says must be part of a society (the Noahide laws).
If a Jew has the choice of violating Judaism in any other way or death, he should transgress and save his life, the rabbis teach. My teacher in Women and Mitzvot said there is an additional specificity added to this halacha. If the Jew is around only non-Jews at the moment of decision he CAN violate the mitzvah (excluding the listed three). However--my teacher thought it was the Rambam who wrote this--if there are other Jews present he cannot even agree to tie his shoes in a way that violates Jewish law. If there are other Jews present he cannot violate even one mitzvah and must choose death even over tying his shoelaces un-halakhically. Even seemingly innocuous laws cannot be violated if Jews witness it.
This is a pretty extreme attitude. It's pretty shocking to me, but in some ways makes sense in the medieval context. With Judaism constantly being challenged, staying firm in one's Jewish values could have larger, group-wide implications. If there are other Jews around when the Jew in question is faced with the decision, the rabbis want him to keep the emotional and physical welfare of Jewish peoplehood in mind at all times. The Jews were vulnerable and were on the defensive frequently about Judaism. If a Jew sees his fellow Jew violate the religion, it hurts the group as a whole because it lowers Jewish self-worth in the Jewish people's eyes and shows Judaism as a weak religion. Also, I guess it sets a bad example for future behavior.
After this discussion, I started thinking about the Jewish service learning programs we are putting together. At its core, the Talmud Bavli's text is about always keeping in mind what is essential in Judaism and not deviating from our values and beliefs. Our programs of course are about service, but even more than that, it's about teens having an experience of Jewish learning and Jewish service. I, as a program leader, along with the group have to keep our collective Jewish values in everyone's consciousness at all times so we remember why are we doing what are we doing. If the service has been firmly rooted in Jewish values and text (the learning), then the service will automatically be framed in the group's minds as a Jewish act.
When I was a teenager, I think I found it easier to remember my "Jewishness" (what makes me different) when I was in situations around by non-Jews. I could easily remember my identity and my limits (ie keeping Shabbat and eating kosher foods). When we are around our fellow Jews, sometimes I think we relax when it comes to gossiping, let our guard down and feel freer to be less strict with ourselves. There's no one here I have to impress or show what Judaism's all about. But of course this isn't true--we are all role models for each other and our behavior around Jews should mirror our behavior around non-Jews. The teens in a JSL program will work through the tension of being in a group of Jews working in a most likely non-Jewish service agency. How do they behave as Jews, eager and ready to remember and express to others who they are, while also being aware, appreciative and energetic to meet people of different values and ideas?
"You will love your neighbor as yourself" (Lev. 19.18). "You shall treat the stranger who sojourns with you as the native among you" (Lev. 19:34). Jews live with these dual commandments both to love and treat respectfully their fellow Jews as well as non-Jewish people among them. Within the JSL context, the group can strike a balance between creating a strong Jewish group and forming a group that is comfortable with and eager to learn with non-Jews and perhaps from foreign customs.
Source: Talmud Bavli, Yoma 82a (AJWS translation)
Today in my Women and Mitzvot course this text came up in discussion. If a Jew is faced with either committing any of these acts or dying, the Jew should choose death. Why these acts in particular? I suppose they represent the worst things a human being can do. They are uncivilized, really dehumanizing and they violate basic laws the Torah says must be part of a society (the Noahide laws).
If a Jew has the choice of violating Judaism in any other way or death, he should transgress and save his life, the rabbis teach. My teacher in Women and Mitzvot said there is an additional specificity added to this halacha. If the Jew is around only non-Jews at the moment of decision he CAN violate the mitzvah (excluding the listed three). However--my teacher thought it was the Rambam who wrote this--if there are other Jews present he cannot even agree to tie his shoes in a way that violates Jewish law. If there are other Jews present he cannot violate even one mitzvah and must choose death even over tying his shoelaces un-halakhically. Even seemingly innocuous laws cannot be violated if Jews witness it.
This is a pretty extreme attitude. It's pretty shocking to me, but in some ways makes sense in the medieval context. With Judaism constantly being challenged, staying firm in one's Jewish values could have larger, group-wide implications. If there are other Jews around when the Jew in question is faced with the decision, the rabbis want him to keep the emotional and physical welfare of Jewish peoplehood in mind at all times. The Jews were vulnerable and were on the defensive frequently about Judaism. If a Jew sees his fellow Jew violate the religion, it hurts the group as a whole because it lowers Jewish self-worth in the Jewish people's eyes and shows Judaism as a weak religion. Also, I guess it sets a bad example for future behavior.
After this discussion, I started thinking about the Jewish service learning programs we are putting together. At its core, the Talmud Bavli's text is about always keeping in mind what is essential in Judaism and not deviating from our values and beliefs. Our programs of course are about service, but even more than that, it's about teens having an experience of Jewish learning and Jewish service. I, as a program leader, along with the group have to keep our collective Jewish values in everyone's consciousness at all times so we remember why are we doing what are we doing. If the service has been firmly rooted in Jewish values and text (the learning), then the service will automatically be framed in the group's minds as a Jewish act.
When I was a teenager, I think I found it easier to remember my "Jewishness" (what makes me different) when I was in situations around by non-Jews. I could easily remember my identity and my limits (ie keeping Shabbat and eating kosher foods). When we are around our fellow Jews, sometimes I think we relax when it comes to gossiping, let our guard down and feel freer to be less strict with ourselves. There's no one here I have to impress or show what Judaism's all about. But of course this isn't true--we are all role models for each other and our behavior around Jews should mirror our behavior around non-Jews. The teens in a JSL program will work through the tension of being in a group of Jews working in a most likely non-Jewish service agency. How do they behave as Jews, eager and ready to remember and express to others who they are, while also being aware, appreciative and energetic to meet people of different values and ideas?
"You will love your neighbor as yourself" (Lev. 19.18). "You shall treat the stranger who sojourns with you as the native among you" (Lev. 19:34). Jews live with these dual commandments both to love and treat respectfully their fellow Jews as well as non-Jewish people among them. Within the JSL context, the group can strike a balance between creating a strong Jewish group and forming a group that is comfortable with and eager to learn with non-Jews and perhaps from foreign customs.
Tuesday, April 13, 2010
The Pardes Approach
Pardes has a Jewish Service Learning track in the making. It's very new. The first and only time it was offered was last fall. It is the Pardes Social Justice Track. Here's the description:
We all want to build a better world, but how should that world look and how should we get there? The Social Justice track combines the study of social issues such as the environment, gender and minority welfare, through classical and modern Jewish texts. In addition, students will be learning about the state of the field and specific challenges in Israel with the help of guest lectures from the governmental and non-profit sectors and field visits. The track is aimed at giving current and future activists the tools to use Jewish text to inform and inspire their work.
The theme throughout the course was connecting text to real problems in Israel. The students weren't required to do any actual hands-on service, but they visited and heard from agencies in Israel that work on certain issues, ie the environment and poverty. I spoke with a student who took the class who said it was much more of a text-based class than a hands-on learning experience. She said she would have preferred more service work. I think the track is going in the right direction, but needs to incorporate service time. Without service students feel much more powerless in the face of social problems. Without a service element students don't see that they are capable of fixing the problem. They don't get inspired to act in the future. They may not know how to act on the issue. It's one thing to talk about social justice, but what really gets people motivated and impassioned is service work itself.
This is difficult to do in a setting like Pardes, which is so focused on building students' text literacy and learning skills, however I feel that it fits in with Pardes' goals and certainly with the student body. Many students at Pardes are in the middle of rabbinical school, about to enter or are already rabbis. Many care deeply about social justice causes, are involved in or lead programs in their home communities or want more experience and knowledge about how to lead such a program for their communities. Students also care deeply about Israel not as an abstract idea but as a real country and homeland with problems. Providing more service opportunities fits in with the personal and professional goals of the students.
Once a week many students dedicate an hour or two to volunteering with an agency. Aside from Peace Players, I like to go to a soup kitchen on Fridays and for the first time today I went to a meals on wheels program in Mea Shearim called Avot Ezra. I enjoy these experiences, and generally feel positive about the work I'm doing. But they are totally disconnected from my learning at Pardes. The service feels random and thrown in. At the beginning of the semester Pardes staff says it's important that we interact with Israeli society during our time here, that we contribute in some way to the outside community. Aside from that speech, we did not have any learning sessions on service or the different opportunities.
A couple months ago Pardes had its annual Yom Iyun Shel Chesed. It was a wonderful day. We volunteered at different organizations for a day. I went with Leket to some orange orchards and picked fruit for the hungry. Prior to the service we had a short program about two Pardes alumni who died in the 2002 Hebrew University terrorist bombing. Speakers said it was in their honor that we would do community service today. One said that the way to respond when light is diminished in the world is to bring more light into the world. It was beautiful, but I didn't learn anything about hunger in Israel or the work Leket does. I chose Leket because it was a lovely day and I wanted to spend it outside. That shouldn't have been the basis of my choice. The agency rep who took us out to the orchards spoke for a few minutes but didn't really have time to go into any depth because we had a lot of work to do. I did feel good after the service. I knew that what we picked would go to soup kitchens and food banks to feed the hungry. But I didn't really have a concept what I had just done.
Every Tuesday we have a community lunch. Sometimes during lunch we have a speaker. Speakers have been writers, entrepreneurs and yonce a representative from a social justice agency. The agency was calling on the Pardes community to collect household items for Ethiopian immigrant families. The speaker talked to us about the disparity of wealth in Israel, the challenges Ethiopians face here and what we can do about it. Then he gave instructions for what we could do to help. This was inspiring but lacking in Jewish content.
There are a lot of pieces of JSL here and my hope is that Pardes can bring these pieces together in a cohesive program. Judaism is all about connecting our beliefs to our actions. They should be in sync with each other. What good is Torah study without acting on the Torah's directives, and what good is action without a basis for it?
"Im ain kemach, ain Torah; im ain Torah, ain kemach." If there is no flour, there is no Torah; if there is no Torah, there is no flour" (Pirke Avot 3:21). This teaching can be understood as saying if there is no earthly action, there is no higher learning, and if there is no higher learning, there is no earthly action. Like flour, service sustains a community. But without guidance (Torah) our actions are not substantial, they are not flour.
We all want to build a better world, but how should that world look and how should we get there? The Social Justice track combines the study of social issues such as the environment, gender and minority welfare, through classical and modern Jewish texts. In addition, students will be learning about the state of the field and specific challenges in Israel with the help of guest lectures from the governmental and non-profit sectors and field visits. The track is aimed at giving current and future activists the tools to use Jewish text to inform and inspire their work.
The theme throughout the course was connecting text to real problems in Israel. The students weren't required to do any actual hands-on service, but they visited and heard from agencies in Israel that work on certain issues, ie the environment and poverty. I spoke with a student who took the class who said it was much more of a text-based class than a hands-on learning experience. She said she would have preferred more service work. I think the track is going in the right direction, but needs to incorporate service time. Without service students feel much more powerless in the face of social problems. Without a service element students don't see that they are capable of fixing the problem. They don't get inspired to act in the future. They may not know how to act on the issue. It's one thing to talk about social justice, but what really gets people motivated and impassioned is service work itself.
This is difficult to do in a setting like Pardes, which is so focused on building students' text literacy and learning skills, however I feel that it fits in with Pardes' goals and certainly with the student body. Many students at Pardes are in the middle of rabbinical school, about to enter or are already rabbis. Many care deeply about social justice causes, are involved in or lead programs in their home communities or want more experience and knowledge about how to lead such a program for their communities. Students also care deeply about Israel not as an abstract idea but as a real country and homeland with problems. Providing more service opportunities fits in with the personal and professional goals of the students.
Once a week many students dedicate an hour or two to volunteering with an agency. Aside from Peace Players, I like to go to a soup kitchen on Fridays and for the first time today I went to a meals on wheels program in Mea Shearim called Avot Ezra. I enjoy these experiences, and generally feel positive about the work I'm doing. But they are totally disconnected from my learning at Pardes. The service feels random and thrown in. At the beginning of the semester Pardes staff says it's important that we interact with Israeli society during our time here, that we contribute in some way to the outside community. Aside from that speech, we did not have any learning sessions on service or the different opportunities.
A couple months ago Pardes had its annual Yom Iyun Shel Chesed. It was a wonderful day. We volunteered at different organizations for a day. I went with Leket to some orange orchards and picked fruit for the hungry. Prior to the service we had a short program about two Pardes alumni who died in the 2002 Hebrew University terrorist bombing. Speakers said it was in their honor that we would do community service today. One said that the way to respond when light is diminished in the world is to bring more light into the world. It was beautiful, but I didn't learn anything about hunger in Israel or the work Leket does. I chose Leket because it was a lovely day and I wanted to spend it outside. That shouldn't have been the basis of my choice. The agency rep who took us out to the orchards spoke for a few minutes but didn't really have time to go into any depth because we had a lot of work to do. I did feel good after the service. I knew that what we picked would go to soup kitchens and food banks to feed the hungry. But I didn't really have a concept what I had just done.
Every Tuesday we have a community lunch. Sometimes during lunch we have a speaker. Speakers have been writers, entrepreneurs and yonce a representative from a social justice agency. The agency was calling on the Pardes community to collect household items for Ethiopian immigrant families. The speaker talked to us about the disparity of wealth in Israel, the challenges Ethiopians face here and what we can do about it. Then he gave instructions for what we could do to help. This was inspiring but lacking in Jewish content.
There are a lot of pieces of JSL here and my hope is that Pardes can bring these pieces together in a cohesive program. Judaism is all about connecting our beliefs to our actions. They should be in sync with each other. What good is Torah study without acting on the Torah's directives, and what good is action without a basis for it?
"Im ain kemach, ain Torah; im ain Torah, ain kemach." If there is no flour, there is no Torah; if there is no Torah, there is no flour" (Pirke Avot 3:21). This teaching can be understood as saying if there is no earthly action, there is no higher learning, and if there is no higher learning, there is no earthly action. Like flour, service sustains a community. But without guidance (Torah) our actions are not substantial, they are not flour.
Monday, April 5, 2010
Building moral character
I resonate with William Damon's central argument in his article "The Bridge to Character." Schools should never be afraid to teach right from wrong and what it means to be an ethical human being. Perhaps schools worry that they are stepping on parents' toes or that they don't have time to teach this kind of subject, but it's actually something that can be incorporated into many classes. Like Damon's example of an 8th grade civics class, ethical questions from American history and in politics today help students relate more closely to subject material and allow them to apply these questions to their own lives.
My high school has five core values: Charity, Courage, Character, Conscience and Community. Despite this, I never had a class or anything that dealt with what the 5 Cs are all about. I think it means something that I remember what the 5 Cs are--when I graduated I also received a key chain with the 5 Cs logo--but beyond that, I never connected to the 5 Cs or applied them in a practical or academic sense during my high school experience. Students certainly violated school rules and they received "demerits" or study hall or suspensions. But the 5 Cs were not utilized as a teaching tool or discussed in a "what do these values mean to me" way.
At my middle school I remember we had an honor code. On every test or paper I turned in, I had to write on the back of it, "On my honor this is my own work" and then sign it. Though this statement is simple, it had a major impact on the way I thought about my work. I took pride in what I produced and never felt a desire to cheat. Also, signing your name to something is significant. I never wanted to lie if my name was attached to it.
Overall though my moral education really has come from my parents, synagogue and Jewish community programs. Jewish and secular service learning programs have such an opportunity to teach these lessons that schools often miss. By placing students in service opportunities outside of their comfort zone and with people they don't normally interact with, they can learn compassion, civic duty, respect for the dignity of all human life and a host of other values for leading an ethical life. Also, Jewish service learning programs teach what Judaism specifically has to say about how to lead an ethical life. JSL programs can help shape a student's identity and tie a student's identity directly to his/her behavior. IE "I plant trees because this is a Jewish thing to do." And even better, the student can remember a text or a value like Ba'al taschit that goes along with the behavior to explain it. The possibilities are vast.
When schools, as Damon writes, shy away from elevating students' moral character and instead stoop to their level, they not only miss an opportunity; they don't fulfill their mission. Schools should teach students these lessons through service learning programs. This would be the most impactful way--get students out of the classroom for service but bring the reflection and ethical learning pieces back to the classroom.
Recently I learned the difference between the Hebrew verbs "l'chanech" (to educate) and "l'lamed" (to teach). L'chanech is not book learning--it is life learning. It means teaching students about behavior and ethics. L'lamed is more about academic studies.
It takes a school, family and community to provide a student with a "chinuch." All parties must contribute to this.
My high school has five core values: Charity, Courage, Character, Conscience and Community. Despite this, I never had a class or anything that dealt with what the 5 Cs are all about. I think it means something that I remember what the 5 Cs are--when I graduated I also received a key chain with the 5 Cs logo--but beyond that, I never connected to the 5 Cs or applied them in a practical or academic sense during my high school experience. Students certainly violated school rules and they received "demerits" or study hall or suspensions. But the 5 Cs were not utilized as a teaching tool or discussed in a "what do these values mean to me" way.
At my middle school I remember we had an honor code. On every test or paper I turned in, I had to write on the back of it, "On my honor this is my own work" and then sign it. Though this statement is simple, it had a major impact on the way I thought about my work. I took pride in what I produced and never felt a desire to cheat. Also, signing your name to something is significant. I never wanted to lie if my name was attached to it.
Overall though my moral education really has come from my parents, synagogue and Jewish community programs. Jewish and secular service learning programs have such an opportunity to teach these lessons that schools often miss. By placing students in service opportunities outside of their comfort zone and with people they don't normally interact with, they can learn compassion, civic duty, respect for the dignity of all human life and a host of other values for leading an ethical life. Also, Jewish service learning programs teach what Judaism specifically has to say about how to lead an ethical life. JSL programs can help shape a student's identity and tie a student's identity directly to his/her behavior. IE "I plant trees because this is a Jewish thing to do." And even better, the student can remember a text or a value like Ba'al taschit that goes along with the behavior to explain it. The possibilities are vast.
When schools, as Damon writes, shy away from elevating students' moral character and instead stoop to their level, they not only miss an opportunity; they don't fulfill their mission. Schools should teach students these lessons through service learning programs. This would be the most impactful way--get students out of the classroom for service but bring the reflection and ethical learning pieces back to the classroom.
Recently I learned the difference between the Hebrew verbs "l'chanech" (to educate) and "l'lamed" (to teach). L'chanech is not book learning--it is life learning. It means teaching students about behavior and ethics. L'lamed is more about academic studies.
It takes a school, family and community to provide a student with a "chinuch." All parties must contribute to this.
Saturday, March 27, 2010
What can we do to change history?
In "Visioning Justice" Daniel Sokatch (then Executive Director of PJA, now Exec Dir of New Israel Fund) said, "So much of Jewish history is about what people did to us. In Jewish social justice we say: What can we do to change history?" What is your response to this quote? What history are we changing or making?
I disagree with Sokatch that Jews were somehow passive figures in their own history. Our history, for me, is not about what others did to us, but rather how we responded during these times, what our values were, how we built communities and not only survived, but managed to thrive culturally, religiously and intellectually. Jewish history is filled with our engagement in social justice. Just because Jews weren't in power does not mean they were not impacting their own societies and their broader societies. It's a very narrow definition of social justice to say just because Jews didn't have the Progressive Jewish Alliance they weren't changing the world. Even when the Jews went out of slavery in Egypt, they took a stance for freedom. Rabbis in Talmudic times worked to uphold the Torah's order that we always remember the most vulnerable in our society; the stranger, the orphan and the widow. Though the Jews were kicked out of many countries and passed around, they never let go of their beliefs and values to educate their children and help the needy. Of course, American history is filled with Jews working to build a better society. Sokatch implies that you can only be an agent of change if you have money and/or are in power somehow. Does it become easier to make change when you have more resources? Possibly. But I think when a people has greater financial security, they have more distractions, more problems and less focus on real change.
In terms of the history we are making, since I'm living in Israel I find myself thinking about this issue all the time. In Israel Jews are the ones in power, so you could say it's much easier for us to control our destiny and shape our society. But a main struggle I see is Israelis wanting to build and create a just society but being too occupied with maintaining their physical security to do that. We are more captive than ever to another people. We are not nearly as free as we should be to make and change our history here. This is not to negate all of the change work that goes on here in civil rights, dialogue, poverty and hunger, but this work is not where it could and should be. The gap between rich and poor here is astounding.
I disagree with Sokatch that Jews were somehow passive figures in their own history. Our history, for me, is not about what others did to us, but rather how we responded during these times, what our values were, how we built communities and not only survived, but managed to thrive culturally, religiously and intellectually. Jewish history is filled with our engagement in social justice. Just because Jews weren't in power does not mean they were not impacting their own societies and their broader societies. It's a very narrow definition of social justice to say just because Jews didn't have the Progressive Jewish Alliance they weren't changing the world. Even when the Jews went out of slavery in Egypt, they took a stance for freedom. Rabbis in Talmudic times worked to uphold the Torah's order that we always remember the most vulnerable in our society; the stranger, the orphan and the widow. Though the Jews were kicked out of many countries and passed around, they never let go of their beliefs and values to educate their children and help the needy. Of course, American history is filled with Jews working to build a better society. Sokatch implies that you can only be an agent of change if you have money and/or are in power somehow. Does it become easier to make change when you have more resources? Possibly. But I think when a people has greater financial security, they have more distractions, more problems and less focus on real change.
In terms of the history we are making, since I'm living in Israel I find myself thinking about this issue all the time. In Israel Jews are the ones in power, so you could say it's much easier for us to control our destiny and shape our society. But a main struggle I see is Israelis wanting to build and create a just society but being too occupied with maintaining their physical security to do that. We are more captive than ever to another people. We are not nearly as free as we should be to make and change our history here. This is not to negate all of the change work that goes on here in civil rights, dialogue, poverty and hunger, but this work is not where it could and should be. The gap between rich and poor here is astounding.
Tuesday, March 9, 2010
Ba'al Taschit
"When in your war against a city you have to besiege it a long time in order to capture it, you must not destroy its trees, wielding the ax against them. You may eat of them, but you must not cut them down. Are trees of the field human to withdraw before you into the besieged city? Only trees that you know do not yield food may be destroyed; you may cut them down for constructing siegeworks against the city that is waging war on you, until it has been reduced." (Deut. 20: 19-20. JPS translation)
As Pesach approaches, I have been thinking about how we as Jews can show compassion to our enemies.
In one midrash G-d silences the angels from singing after Pharaoh and his army drown in Yam Suf because Egyptians are G-d's creatures too, and we shouldn't rejoice over this destruction. During the hail plague, it says in the Torah that Pharaoh tells Moses and Aaron that he has sinned and G-d is righteous, "Adonai HaTzadik" (Ex. 10:27). Some medieval commentators attribute this statement by Pharaoh to the fact that G-d warned the Egyptians prior to the plague. "Order your livestock and everything you have in the open brought under shelter; every man and beast that is found outside, not having been brought indoors, shall perish when the hail comes down upon them!" (Ex. 9:19). Some Egyptians listen to the warning, and others do not. In this moment, G-d shows compassion on our enemies, on the ones who enslaved the Jewish people for 400 years. He teaches Pharaoh what it means to care about one's creatures.
In the commandment regarding ba'al taschit, it could be that a similar lesson is being taught. Though we fight against an army or enemy population, the trees should not be punished because there is conflict on their soil. I believe this is the mission of the Arava Institute, which brings peoples in conflict together to act for the sake of their shared environment. We all, enemies and neighbors, need natural resources like fruit trees to live.
On the other hand, I can read the ba'al taschit commandment in a more pragmatic light. Maybe it's not a commandment on us to preserve fruit trees for the sake of the innocent fruit trees or to show compassion on the enemy population that may want to rebuild following the war. Maybe after we win a war and want to occupy whatever land we're fighting for, we will want to establish our society there, and we will need fruit trees to sustain ourselves. It would be harder to start from scratch and have to start planting. It is much easier for an occupier to utilize the resources already available. Though Rabbi Loevinger's reading of the ba'al taschit text is inspirational, perhaps the intention of the law is for Jews to know how to sustain their own community. It may not be about "acting to safeguard the beauty and abundance of the world" to show "our appreciation of it."
In practice, in our own lives, I believe that is what ba'al taschit teaches us. It also teaches us to have a social and environmental conscience during war times. For Jews, not all is fair in love and war.
Many of the laws in the Torah, starting with the 17 laws given following the exodus from Egypt, are for the purpose of building a community, a society, a nation. This law given in Vayikra may just be focused on building Jewish society and using resources to meet our needs. The text does not say, "and share in the fruit trees with the enemies" or "allow the opposing people to eat of the fruit trees during the war as well."
As Pesach approaches, I have been thinking about how we as Jews can show compassion to our enemies.
In one midrash G-d silences the angels from singing after Pharaoh and his army drown in Yam Suf because Egyptians are G-d's creatures too, and we shouldn't rejoice over this destruction. During the hail plague, it says in the Torah that Pharaoh tells Moses and Aaron that he has sinned and G-d is righteous, "Adonai HaTzadik" (Ex. 10:27). Some medieval commentators attribute this statement by Pharaoh to the fact that G-d warned the Egyptians prior to the plague. "Order your livestock and everything you have in the open brought under shelter; every man and beast that is found outside, not having been brought indoors, shall perish when the hail comes down upon them!" (Ex. 9:19). Some Egyptians listen to the warning, and others do not. In this moment, G-d shows compassion on our enemies, on the ones who enslaved the Jewish people for 400 years. He teaches Pharaoh what it means to care about one's creatures.
In the commandment regarding ba'al taschit, it could be that a similar lesson is being taught. Though we fight against an army or enemy population, the trees should not be punished because there is conflict on their soil. I believe this is the mission of the Arava Institute, which brings peoples in conflict together to act for the sake of their shared environment. We all, enemies and neighbors, need natural resources like fruit trees to live.
On the other hand, I can read the ba'al taschit commandment in a more pragmatic light. Maybe it's not a commandment on us to preserve fruit trees for the sake of the innocent fruit trees or to show compassion on the enemy population that may want to rebuild following the war. Maybe after we win a war and want to occupy whatever land we're fighting for, we will want to establish our society there, and we will need fruit trees to sustain ourselves. It would be harder to start from scratch and have to start planting. It is much easier for an occupier to utilize the resources already available. Though Rabbi Loevinger's reading of the ba'al taschit text is inspirational, perhaps the intention of the law is for Jews to know how to sustain their own community. It may not be about "acting to safeguard the beauty and abundance of the world" to show "our appreciation of it."
In practice, in our own lives, I believe that is what ba'al taschit teaches us. It also teaches us to have a social and environmental conscience during war times. For Jews, not all is fair in love and war.
Many of the laws in the Torah, starting with the 17 laws given following the exodus from Egypt, are for the purpose of building a community, a society, a nation. This law given in Vayikra may just be focused on building Jewish society and using resources to meet our needs. The text does not say, "and share in the fruit trees with the enemies" or "allow the opposing people to eat of the fruit trees during the war as well."
Tuesday, March 2, 2010
The Personal Challenge
I resonate with Ronald A. Heifetz's suggestion that the strongest leaders get on the figurative balcony. Too often, in my experience, young leaders get caught up in the personal experiences of a group's members, or get wrapped up in the social drama of the group. In particular in NFTY and at camps I have noticed counselors and unit heads lose sight of the big picture of their programs, fail to keep their goals in mind, and wind up being a part of a teen group's gossip, asking kids whom they have a crush on, wanting to join in the group's dance, etc. In essence, trying to be a participant rather than a leader. On the other side, if the leader becomes out of touch with the group's needs or mood or keeps great physical or emotional distance from the group, he/she is also then not leading, but rather observing from afar. By standing in Heifetz's balcony, the leader has a view of what's going on and remains in the audience, so he/she is part of the performance experience but is not an actor in the show.
The leader should be a member of the group, but the distinction between leader and participant needs to be very clear. We need leaders to guide us, give us direction and help set the big picture goals. Without these people, we would be disorganized and lack direction. Even if a group's members push for more free time, for instance, they sub-consciously want and need the leader to push back and remind them of why they are here.
Standing from the balcony, the leaders can get the perspectives of staff, participants and supervisor, receiving a full picture. I would add that leaders need people he/she trusts and respects (the staff) to be in the audience, staying closer to the participants, as well as security guards by the door and also roaming the halls of the theater to get the more subtle picture of the group's dynamic. If leaders only notice what they see themselves, they won't get an accurate account. We have to trust others to stay in touch and notice what's less obvious, for instance, the student who sneaks alcohol or the student standing outside the theater because she is being excluded by her friends. It's a delicate balance and not an easy one to achieve.
Heifetz points out that it's difficult to find one's way to the balcony when we as leaders are in a new place, an unfamiliar setting, dealing with a new group or a new program. He proposes that the way to the balcony is by identifying the challenges, remembering our role, finding partners and keeping a sanctuary space.
At Peace Players, I am still figuring out my role. I'm somewhere between a participant and leader on the basketball court. I don't directly coach the kids, but I also am not a member of the team. I am somewhat of an assistant coach, I guess, like a staff member, so I'm in the middle of the court (not the balcony), attempting to get an understanding of their needs and have fun with them. Today, for the first time, I felt a little bit of acceptance on their end (the kids). I think the players were also trying to figure out my role, just as I was. Today, I got a few "good jobs" or "kol ha-kavods", more passes and conversations. It feels good to be establishing my place.
The leader should be a member of the group, but the distinction between leader and participant needs to be very clear. We need leaders to guide us, give us direction and help set the big picture goals. Without these people, we would be disorganized and lack direction. Even if a group's members push for more free time, for instance, they sub-consciously want and need the leader to push back and remind them of why they are here.
Standing from the balcony, the leaders can get the perspectives of staff, participants and supervisor, receiving a full picture. I would add that leaders need people he/she trusts and respects (the staff) to be in the audience, staying closer to the participants, as well as security guards by the door and also roaming the halls of the theater to get the more subtle picture of the group's dynamic. If leaders only notice what they see themselves, they won't get an accurate account. We have to trust others to stay in touch and notice what's less obvious, for instance, the student who sneaks alcohol or the student standing outside the theater because she is being excluded by her friends. It's a delicate balance and not an easy one to achieve.
Heifetz points out that it's difficult to find one's way to the balcony when we as leaders are in a new place, an unfamiliar setting, dealing with a new group or a new program. He proposes that the way to the balcony is by identifying the challenges, remembering our role, finding partners and keeping a sanctuary space.
At Peace Players, I am still figuring out my role. I'm somewhere between a participant and leader on the basketball court. I don't directly coach the kids, but I also am not a member of the team. I am somewhat of an assistant coach, I guess, like a staff member, so I'm in the middle of the court (not the balcony), attempting to get an understanding of their needs and have fun with them. Today, for the first time, I felt a little bit of acceptance on their end (the kids). I think the players were also trying to figure out my role, just as I was. Today, I got a few "good jobs" or "kol ha-kavods", more passes and conversations. It feels good to be establishing my place.
Saturday, February 27, 2010
Jewish law vs. Democracy
“Let justice well up as the waters, and righteousness as a mighty stream.” (Amos 5:24)
I'm not sure why, but I always felt democracy and Judaism coexisted, albeit uncomfortably, here in Israel. I always thought it was amazing, yet somehow worked here. I felt great pride over this fact.
A couple days ago I saw a film titled Mekudeshet: Sentenced to Marriage. The film documents the lives of three women trying to get the Rabbanut, several rabbis who sit on a court panel, to get their husbands to grant them a get. These women are not halachically agunot (though in America we lump them into this category), women whose husbands have disappeared so no one can prove they are dead, so they are chained to their marriages. These are women who in Israel are called by the halachik term "misorevot get", women being refused a get by their husbands. Now I know for sure Israel is not a true democratic country, nor will it ever be until the government changes the 1953 law that put the Rabbanut in control of all Jewish marriages and divorces. The Rabbanut's jurisdiction extends to Jews of all strips, including secular ones.
My Pardes teacher, Yaffa Epstein, volunteers with Mavoi Satum, an organization that helps Jewish women navigate the Rabbanut and provides emotional support to them as well. The process for a Jewish woman to get a divorce is so unbelievable it's hard to put into words. Mavoi Satum estimates that there are 10,000 misorevot get in Israel today. Under halacha, a man has to, out of his own free will, grant the get. Even though Rambam (12th cent. Spain) and the Tosefot (medieval French commentators on mishna) say the rabbinic court can use physical, social and financial leverage to compel the husband, today the Rabbanut is very reluctant to do this. The Israeli government says that if the Rabbanut wants to get a husband to grant the get they have the power to freeze his bank account, take away his driver's license, his passport, throw him in jail for six months, and more. But the Rabbanut is not eager to ever do this, even when the husband admits to having extramarital affairs, the wife testifies to domestic violence or child abuse. Neither domestic violence nor child abuse are considered valid halachikally Jewish reasons to get a divorce.
Why on earth would the Rabbanut want to keep such marriages together though? Yaffa says the Rabbanut feels they have to be the defenders of marriage, even though that's not their prescribed role. Israel has a very low divorce rate--about 30%--and they feel largely responsible for this. They also want to avoid creating a "mamzer", the offspring of a married Jewish woman and a Jewish man with whom she has an affair. If the Rabbanut were to force the husband to grant the get, but it turned out it wasn't out of his own "free will", then technically the get would be considered invalid and could be overturned. The woman would still be married when/if she married someone else and had a child (aka a mamzer now). Under Jewish law in Israel, the mamzer can only marry another mamzer and is placed in a special category in halakha.
What's truly horrible is that many of these women are stuck in abusive relationships, or with unfaithful husbands, or husbands who have left them and have started new families. Some of these men just want to avoid paying child support (overseen by the rabbanut or civil courts), so they refuse the get. Others are abusive and want to hold on to their wives. These women are chained and cannot remarry or move on with their lives. Mekudeshet is a very upsetting movie, but one that I would absolutely recommend.
Mavoi Sautum: http://www.mavoisatum.org
Of course there are many other upsetting examples that have always come to mind about Israel and its relationship to democracy, regarding the Jewish laws in place in the state. But they did not bother me as much in the past because they didn't seem as insane or harmful as the marriage/divorce law.
After I became so infuriated by this, I became angry at myself that only this situation made me realize this country disrespects the civil rights of its citizens. I thought about the Arab children with whom I've been playing basketball at Yad V'Yad. What are their lives like? What kind of awareness do they have about living under Jewish law? What impact, positive and negative, does this have on their lives?
I don't feel comfortable as an American--I don't feel the kids understand why I'm there or why I care about hanging out with them. Some have fun with us and enjoy our company, but our interactions are so limited and only on basketball, that I think we all find it confusing. I'm happy to play basketball with them, but I hope this experience impacts them as well.
I have some understanding of the discrimination that goes on in this country, I certainly hear Israelis and Arabs say hateful things about one another, but I place Arab-Israeli relations in a category all its own that extends beyond Israel. Why does Israel have a war on the Jewish women of its country?
Reading the "tzedek u'mashpat" lines in Amos feels hollow in the Jewish state.
I'm not sure why, but I always felt democracy and Judaism coexisted, albeit uncomfortably, here in Israel. I always thought it was amazing, yet somehow worked here. I felt great pride over this fact.
A couple days ago I saw a film titled Mekudeshet: Sentenced to Marriage. The film documents the lives of three women trying to get the Rabbanut, several rabbis who sit on a court panel, to get their husbands to grant them a get. These women are not halachically agunot (though in America we lump them into this category), women whose husbands have disappeared so no one can prove they are dead, so they are chained to their marriages. These are women who in Israel are called by the halachik term "misorevot get", women being refused a get by their husbands. Now I know for sure Israel is not a true democratic country, nor will it ever be until the government changes the 1953 law that put the Rabbanut in control of all Jewish marriages and divorces. The Rabbanut's jurisdiction extends to Jews of all strips, including secular ones.
My Pardes teacher, Yaffa Epstein, volunteers with Mavoi Satum, an organization that helps Jewish women navigate the Rabbanut and provides emotional support to them as well. The process for a Jewish woman to get a divorce is so unbelievable it's hard to put into words. Mavoi Satum estimates that there are 10,000 misorevot get in Israel today. Under halacha, a man has to, out of his own free will, grant the get. Even though Rambam (12th cent. Spain) and the Tosefot (medieval French commentators on mishna) say the rabbinic court can use physical, social and financial leverage to compel the husband, today the Rabbanut is very reluctant to do this. The Israeli government says that if the Rabbanut wants to get a husband to grant the get they have the power to freeze his bank account, take away his driver's license, his passport, throw him in jail for six months, and more. But the Rabbanut is not eager to ever do this, even when the husband admits to having extramarital affairs, the wife testifies to domestic violence or child abuse. Neither domestic violence nor child abuse are considered valid halachikally Jewish reasons to get a divorce.
Why on earth would the Rabbanut want to keep such marriages together though? Yaffa says the Rabbanut feels they have to be the defenders of marriage, even though that's not their prescribed role. Israel has a very low divorce rate--about 30%--and they feel largely responsible for this. They also want to avoid creating a "mamzer", the offspring of a married Jewish woman and a Jewish man with whom she has an affair. If the Rabbanut were to force the husband to grant the get, but it turned out it wasn't out of his own "free will", then technically the get would be considered invalid and could be overturned. The woman would still be married when/if she married someone else and had a child (aka a mamzer now). Under Jewish law in Israel, the mamzer can only marry another mamzer and is placed in a special category in halakha.
What's truly horrible is that many of these women are stuck in abusive relationships, or with unfaithful husbands, or husbands who have left them and have started new families. Some of these men just want to avoid paying child support (overseen by the rabbanut or civil courts), so they refuse the get. Others are abusive and want to hold on to their wives. These women are chained and cannot remarry or move on with their lives. Mekudeshet is a very upsetting movie, but one that I would absolutely recommend.
Mavoi Sautum: http://www.mavoisatum.org
Of course there are many other upsetting examples that have always come to mind about Israel and its relationship to democracy, regarding the Jewish laws in place in the state. But they did not bother me as much in the past because they didn't seem as insane or harmful as the marriage/divorce law.
After I became so infuriated by this, I became angry at myself that only this situation made me realize this country disrespects the civil rights of its citizens. I thought about the Arab children with whom I've been playing basketball at Yad V'Yad. What are their lives like? What kind of awareness do they have about living under Jewish law? What impact, positive and negative, does this have on their lives?
I don't feel comfortable as an American--I don't feel the kids understand why I'm there or why I care about hanging out with them. Some have fun with us and enjoy our company, but our interactions are so limited and only on basketball, that I think we all find it confusing. I'm happy to play basketball with them, but I hope this experience impacts them as well.
I have some understanding of the discrimination that goes on in this country, I certainly hear Israelis and Arabs say hateful things about one another, but I place Arab-Israeli relations in a category all its own that extends beyond Israel. Why does Israel have a war on the Jewish women of its country?
Reading the "tzedek u'mashpat" lines in Amos feels hollow in the Jewish state.
Saturday, February 13, 2010
Questions at Peace Players
It is important to me that while I’m studying at Pardes I don’t become disconnected from Jerusalem itself, the people and the tensions they face. Isn’t that sort of the point of service learning? Without realizing it, I could just study at Pardes everyday, hang out in my neighborhood of Emek Refaim, and forget to connect the Jewish learning I do during the day with my actions outside of the beit midrash. While I fully embrace Torah l'shma, I also view Torah as a means for changing society. Learning can be the easier part, but taking that learning and doing something meaningful with it requires time, energy, patience and coordination. Every Tuesday afternoon Pardesniks spend a few hours volunteering at different non-profits around Jerusalem. It’s not a requirement, but it’s highly encouraged. Many tutor kids who live in vulnerable neighborhoods like East Talpiyot near Pardes, visit with Ethiopian families or sing at a home for the elderly.
Pardes' community service would be strengthened if occasionally our learning tied into our service, but that can be something I do on my own.
I have just started volunteering with Peace Players, an agency which ventures into conflict areas around the world and uses basketball as a means to combat hatred and ignorance. Israel’s Peace Players is based in several schools around the country. Arab and Jewish Israelis play on basketball teams together and compete against other schools. I and several other Pardesniks go to the Yad V’Yad ("Hand in Hand")School in the Pat neighborhood of Jerusalem. So far, I've been once. Yad V’Yad is the only school of its kind, so I’ve been told, in Jerusalem. The K-10 school has a Hebrew speaking and an Arabic speaking teacher in every classroom. The students, a balanced mix of Arab and Jewish, graduate confidently speaking Arabic and Hebrew. When it comes to teaching religious subjects like Tanakh or Qur’an, the classes split up. I’m interested in learning more about the curriculum at this school—for instance how is the holocaust taught? The nakba, Israeli history? The Arab schools in Jerusalem do not have as many resources as the Jewish ones, and Yad V’Yad has an excellent reputation academically and as a model for coexistence.
The middle school boys team we are playing with have been involved with Peace Players for three years, but they have only been a unified team for one year. The team is made up of Jewish students not from Yad V’Yad and Arab students from the school. During the first year, the kids play on “single identity” teams: the Jewish boys from West Jerusalem on one team and the Arab students on another team. Then, in the second year, Peace Players brings the teams together for friendly competitions so they can get to know each other, and by the third year, they mix with other teams. The teams play together through high school. Some students drop off along the way, but many stick with it, Jenny, a Peace Players coordinator told me.
The head coach, Osnat, talks to the kids like a military commander addressing her soldiers. We participated in the basketball drills and played a scrimmage with the kids. I got to talk with a few of them, trying to learn names and personalities. I’m hoping to observe their team dynamics—are they mixing socially? How well do they work together? What does this team mean to them? It's difficult, as it would be getting to know any middle school boys, but especially because of our language barriers. I can tell the kids are excited and intimidated by our presence. I'm going to work hard to communicate with them.
I only heard Hebrew being spoken by the players, and Osnat only spoke in Hebrew. I asked Jenny about this, and she said sometimes they have coaches who speak in Arabic. Language plays such a crucial role in building community at the school, that I wonder how shared and not-shared language impacts this team.
Yad V'Yad: http://www.handinhandk12.org/index.cfm?fuseaction=content.display&pageID=72
Pardes' community service would be strengthened if occasionally our learning tied into our service, but that can be something I do on my own.
I have just started volunteering with Peace Players, an agency which ventures into conflict areas around the world and uses basketball as a means to combat hatred and ignorance. Israel’s Peace Players is based in several schools around the country. Arab and Jewish Israelis play on basketball teams together and compete against other schools. I and several other Pardesniks go to the Yad V’Yad ("Hand in Hand")School in the Pat neighborhood of Jerusalem. So far, I've been once. Yad V’Yad is the only school of its kind, so I’ve been told, in Jerusalem. The K-10 school has a Hebrew speaking and an Arabic speaking teacher in every classroom. The students, a balanced mix of Arab and Jewish, graduate confidently speaking Arabic and Hebrew. When it comes to teaching religious subjects like Tanakh or Qur’an, the classes split up. I’m interested in learning more about the curriculum at this school—for instance how is the holocaust taught? The nakba, Israeli history? The Arab schools in Jerusalem do not have as many resources as the Jewish ones, and Yad V’Yad has an excellent reputation academically and as a model for coexistence.
The middle school boys team we are playing with have been involved with Peace Players for three years, but they have only been a unified team for one year. The team is made up of Jewish students not from Yad V’Yad and Arab students from the school. During the first year, the kids play on “single identity” teams: the Jewish boys from West Jerusalem on one team and the Arab students on another team. Then, in the second year, Peace Players brings the teams together for friendly competitions so they can get to know each other, and by the third year, they mix with other teams. The teams play together through high school. Some students drop off along the way, but many stick with it, Jenny, a Peace Players coordinator told me.
The head coach, Osnat, talks to the kids like a military commander addressing her soldiers. We participated in the basketball drills and played a scrimmage with the kids. I got to talk with a few of them, trying to learn names and personalities. I’m hoping to observe their team dynamics—are they mixing socially? How well do they work together? What does this team mean to them? It's difficult, as it would be getting to know any middle school boys, but especially because of our language barriers. I can tell the kids are excited and intimidated by our presence. I'm going to work hard to communicate with them.
I only heard Hebrew being spoken by the players, and Osnat only spoke in Hebrew. I asked Jenny about this, and she said sometimes they have coaches who speak in Arabic. Language plays such a crucial role in building community at the school, that I wonder how shared and not-shared language impacts this team.
Yad V'Yad: http://www.handinhandk12.org/index.cfm?fuseaction=content.display&pageID=72
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