Friday, April 17, 2009

So we're not quite as crazy or alone as I thought

So we're not quite as crazy or alone as I thought. Not quite. Turns out our wonderfully rich vegetarian diet—rooted originally in cholesterol concerns, Kati's lactose issues (ahem), and our love of animals—serves not only as the practical and lazy way to keep kosher we thought, but as a theologically sound one too.


First, the practicalities. Eating vegetarian makes it easier and cheaper to observe kashrut for us busy and relatively isolated South Austin Jews. For example, we don't need to:

  • Drive miles on overcrowded freeways to buy overpriced kosher meats
  • Buy separate dishes and utensils for meat and dairy foods 
  • Wait hours after eating meat before being eating dairy products—which we don't, but you get the point
  • Store four sets of dishes, pots, and silverware—don't forget the Pesach thing

Second, I’ve learned there are several strong theological arguments for vegetarianism with no shortage of respected supporters: their many religious supporters include the Chief Rabbi of Mandated Palestine Abraham Kook and the Chief Rabbi of Britain Sir Jonathan Sacks; their cultural supporters include Nobel Prize winners Isaac Bashevis Singer and Albert Einstein, for whom “man was not born to be a carnivore." There are at least three religious arguments for vegetarianism as a valid Jewish diet:

  • Gd prescribed certain sources of food for humankind: “See, I give you every seed-bearing plant that is upon all the earth, and every tree that had seed bearing fruit; they shall be yours for food" (Genesis 1:29)
  • A meat-based diet—especially one farmed industrially—violates a series of biblical injunctions, including the: 
    • Humane treatment of animals
    • Stewardship of the planet
    • Protection of human wellbeing
    • Provision of food for the hungry
  • The arcane process of Jewish ritual slaughter intends to make eating meat simply too bothersome—as Israeli Orthodox leader Rabbi Shlomo Riskin elegantly notes, "The dietary laws are intended to teach us compassion and lead us gently to vegetarianism."

While all three arguments hold water, any one is sufficient to establish vegetarianism not only as a valid Jewish diet, but perhaps as the only way to eat Jewishly; the only way to achieve what many call "ethical kashrut." I love the simplicity of the third argument, but you’re safe choosing any or all. And if you’ve never before considered this topic, now might be a good time to start—it’s perfect for a South Austin style Shabbat reflection. You might find these links useful: 

Meanwhile, I'm off to kill some tofus. Good shabbos.

Wednesday, April 15, 2009

Building a New Shul—B'yachad

Judaisms, like most religions, stake out the future by claiming the past. Each denomination claims its vision is most faithful to tradition. Some—called orthodoxies—claim to own and protect original "truths." Others, including the progressive religious Judaisms and political Zionisms born in modern Europe, claim to discover or recover some original spirit, meaning, or place.

As a kid, I moved easily among Judaisms, feeling as comfortable in a Modern Orthodox school as a Reform service or a secular Zionist meeting. Now I am comfortable with none of these. I love Orthodox liturgy, but can't get beyond the way orthodoxies refuse even to contemplate that women, homosexuals, and others similarly marginalized are fully equal before Gd. I respect progressive inclusiveness, but the liturgies leave me cold. And I love Israel and support her future as a secure home for Jews, but I recoil from her increasing parochialism and poor political and moral choices.

Data suggest that more and more 20 through 40-somethings are lost from these competing visions. Some reject Jewish religiosity as dry. Others grew up "Jewish" but with no real religious background. And others still grew up outside any organized Jewish community. However, an adventuresome few are out there creating their own Judaisms: blogging and tweeting, publishing magazines like Heeb, worshiping collectively, and fulfilling commandments in their own ways.

For a while, we found spiritual comfort in the form of Scottsdale, Arizona's New Shul. Led by Rabbis Elana Kanter and Michael Wasserman, it is a creative, nurturing, and egalitarian community of modern Jews tapped into the historical and cultural cohesiveness of a traditional Hebrew liturgy. (The New Shul uses an Art Scroll siddur.) But since moving to Austin, Texas, I've found no real replacement. We were active members of Congregation Kol Halev, a diminutive and friendly non-denominational synagogue led by the tireless Rabbi Kerry Baker. However, while we love the friends we made there, Congregation Kol Halev's physical homelessness, frequent poor attendance, and lackluster bilingual liturgy left me wanting.

Here in South Austin we are separated from the majority of Austin's Jews by a dammed up river. Jews and non-Jews down here are different than those living north or west. Demographically, we trend slightly less wealthy and far more liberal. Most importantly, we are separated geographically—the JCC is north of the river as are all the city's synagogues, none of which offers the traditional-egalitarian ethos of the New Shul, the neo-Hasidism of LA's Shtibl Minyan, the modern ruach of New York's Romemu, or the communal creativity of Seattle's Kavana.

What to do? Some initial ideas:

  • Network and use Web-based social media to find, reach out to, and engage South Austin Jews interested in organizing an egalitarian community
  • Meet regularly with these families and individuals to share interests, needs, and concerns
  • Explore, adapt, and adopt meaningful traditional Jewish solutions to those needs and begin loosely codifying them by consensus

From there? Let's find out togetherb’yachad.