Last Night At Shul Again

This weekend was the annual meeting of the Jewish Reconstructionist Federation convention, which met at the Hyatt Hotel in Irvine. Our synagogue is part of this federation of synagogues and groups who espouse a Reconstructionist philosophy of Judaism. The simplest way I can explain Reconstructionism is that it is a rational, modern form of the religion that "reconstructs" or adapts the tradition to suit the sensibilities of intelligent, educated modern Jews. This means that it is uncomfortable with the notion of a supernatural God or with exclusionary doctrines like "the chosen people." Instead, this movement embraces those parts of the tradition that are all about social justice and social action, education, and progressive government and international policies. In other words, it comprises that branch of Judaism that has always existed--the left-wing and socially aware. Sometimes I am a little bit uncomfortable with how much it privileges science over other things--for me, science is no more "true" for the most part than anything else, though I know this is problematic. And sometimes I feel that there are elements of supernatural in the world that this movement neglects, but there is room in the tent for me and others like me. No one is casting me out for a few ideological differences. The name of the game is tolerance.
Last night at the service, I gave out social action information at the door--actually, I was trying to round up locals to fill out a social action survey. Although I don't have time to do much for the Committee, at least I can do things like this, and I am glad to do them. Once a year or so, I try to go to a soup kitchen with the committee. I wish I could do that every week. We used to go to the Catholic Worker years ago twice a week and cook for homeless people, and we got to know them. I felt privileged to be able to do it, and found it was a boon to myself more than anything else. I wish I had time to do that again, but I find that I don't, between school, yoga, and writing. But there will be time at some period in my life, and I will begin doing that again.
Anyway, it was our monthly musical service, which is always wonderful. We have some really gifted musicians who play and perform, including our cantor, Ruti Brier, who is married to the Rabbi, and others, including a clarinet/sax player, Leo, who does kletzmer, and a violinist, Julie, who plays for the Pacific Symphony when she is not playing for us. Because of the convention, there were others, including an amazing Argentinian cantor who performed like a star singing a Spanish Jewish song, "Gracias por la Vida." Our cantor, who is from Argentina and Israel, does this song sometimes too, and she is good, but this guy was amazing.
Then Irwin Chamerinski, who is a member of our synagogue, spoke. He is the dean of UCI's law school and an expert in Constitutional law. He discussed separation of church and state, and told us that for the first time in the history of the U.S., there are 5 justices on the Supreme Court who do not believe in Jefferson's "high and impregnable wall" between church and state. For them, only the government's actually starting its own church or coercing others to join a particular church would break that law. He said that in the 40s, even the most conservative justices did not believe that, and told us about a case he tried before the Supreme Court, the last case Renquist heard before his death, and how Renquist responded to Chamerinski's case about the 6 foot high three and a half feet wide monument of the Ten Commandments that if the client didn't like it, he could just turn his head. Of course, Chameriniski lost the case. He urged us to write to our representatives about this issue, and to let them know that we were not against religion, but that we wanted to feel that this was our government too, and that for the sake of Buddhists, Moslems, and atheists and others, we didn't want to feel excluded from our own government.
I remember having the annual discussion with our son's teachers in elementary school about Christmas, and how I told them of his tears every year when he was forced to do Christmas crafts. His ignorant teacher told him he could make his wreath blue and white, but a wreath is a Christian symbol, and Jeremy and his Moslem and Buddhist and Hindu classmates sat silently and sadly, feeling as though they were being made an example of. We told Jeremy we would hang his wreath, and that we loved anything he did, but he wouldn't let us, and sadly dropped it into the trash bin, crying all the while.
No child should have to feel like this, but of course, the parents of his Christian classmates and his teachers didn't understand this. They didn't see why we had to be such killjoys.
Every Jewish child who grew up in the public school during the time of school prayer as I did has memories of this. I would sing very religious Christmas songs, thinking that maybe lightning was going to hit me. I would say the prayers, which, to be fair, were mostly from the Old Testament (though not from Jewish translations of those books), but I wondered how others who were neither Christian nor Jewish felt. And I thought that it would be better even then not to have had to say these prayers at all.
After his talk, there was more music, and my friends Shannon Fowler, head of the choir I sing in at synagogue, and Steve Hirsch sang a terrific duet that was among the best music all night. Hooray for the homies!