Part 1: A Giddy Delegate
As many of you will remember, two years ago, the Union of American Hebrew Congregation's 65th national Biennial convention was held in Orlando, Bet Chaim was one of the host congregations, and a large majority of our members participated. Yours truly was one of the few who didn't, and after I heard all the stories, was sorry I missed it. So two years later, when I had the opportunity to attend the 66th Biennial in Boston, it didn't take much prodding to make me go. I was terribly proud and honored to be one of only three people representing Bet Chaim (the other two being our illustrious President and his industrious wife, better known to all of us as Steve and Carol).
Boston in December does not have the reputation of having the most desirable climate--in fact, 20 years ago, the last time the Biennial was held in Boston, there was a blizzard. However I really lucked out because for the first several days the temperature was exceedingly warm. And then as a special treat, on Saturday evening and Sunday, it snowed. For this Florida resident, it was the first time I had seen snow in nearly eight years and I truly enjoyed the sensation of thousands of flakes falling on my invigoratingly chilled body and making and throwing snowballs.
I was also fortunate enough to have an extra two days in Boston, outside the Biennial, to do a little sightseeing. I was able to see the historic Faneuil Hall and Quincy Market, Cambridge and Harvard, Thoreau's Walden Pond, the Old North Bridge in Concord where the Revolutionary War began, and the John F. Kennedy Library. I also saw a very moving Holocaust Memorial and learned to ride the "T." My guide for all this, Kim, was the cousin of our former President.
I did keep extremely busy during the five days of the Biennial. Events started before 8:00am every day and kept going straight through until after midnight. All these sessions and workshops and gatherings and miscellaneous activities barely gave me a moment to catch my breath. I averaged about five-and-a-half hours of sleep a night, yet I was so enthralled by all these activities that I didn't really get tired until I finally came home and collapsed.
There were 5,764 people registered at the Biennial (it was easy to remember that figure--it was the year plus two), all deeply committed to their temples, to Judaism, to the Reform movement. It was truly inspiring to be in such company.
And I met so many wonderful people. Normally I'm not one to make friends easily, but for some reason, I was just thrilled to talk and talk with all these strangers fast becoming friends. I learned as much from them as I did from the sessions--about how our congregation compares with others, and that we are doing quite well. Not merely "for our size," but for any congregation. We have such a larger percentage of our members participating on a regular basis; we have just as many activities as most temples, and less conflict than most.
I met this very interesting woman cantor from Wisconsin, a Women of Reform Judaism president from Michigan, rabbis from Oklahoma, California, Alabama, and Ohio. I met a friendly group from a temple in Alexandria, Virginia, where my sister lives; in fact, I also ran into my sister's former rabbi and enjoyed talking with him for a while. But perhaps the friendliest group was from Boston's Beth El Temple Center. In fact, they sort of adopted me, since Carol and Steve were so busy with their own activities that I hardly saw them for most of the Biennial. I ate several meals with this group; we shared many stories about our temples and enjoyed each other's company so much I feel I have a new home and will be sure to visit Beth El Temple Center the next time I am in Boston.
With everything that was going on, it was hard to find time to look up old friends, but one afternoon, Carol, Steve, and I were able to have lunch with Rabbi Arthur Starr. It was so wonderful to see him again and to hear about the new innovations at his temple. We all look forward to a time when he'll be able to return to Florida and join us again.
It was also hard to find time to explore the Exhibit Hall, but that was something not to be missed. So many exhibiters in this gigantic auditorium. All kinds of Judaica--every kind of art you could imagine. Paintings and sketches, sculptures and jewelry, glass yads and Torah covers. There were people promoting trips to Israel, people trying to sell synagogue insurance, people who design temples, or sell pews. Publishers. Israeli T-shirts (I bought a Hebrew Coca-cola shirt as a Hanukkah present). And all kinds of Jewish music that you could imagine. I ended up buying two CDs for myself--the kind you would not be able to find in typical music stores of Orlando.
And speaking of music, there was such music at the Biennial. Boston-based Zamir Chorale and SAFAM performed. There were musicians like Steve Dropkin whom Carol and Steve knew. And one of the Ma'ariv services was done entirely in music--that was very moving. But what most particularly impressed me was this new group called Peri Smilow and the Freedom Music Project. They mixed Jewish and Black styles and themes; their powerful songs about Passover and the quest for freedom really inspired me (as well as the screaming NFTY kids who thought they were at a rock concert).
The musical highlight of the Biennial was Debbie Friedman's concert on the final evening. She sang many of her most famous songs including "Mi Shebeirach" and "Miriam's Song," but the highlight was "And the Youth Shall See Visions." They passed out these yellow glow-sticks that everyone waved to the music as the lights dimmed. The view from the balcony, seeing the entire audience covered in these tiny lights swaying to the beautiful music, was just an incredible sight to behold.
The entire Biennial experience just made me so giddy, words cannot do justice to the incredible feeling it was to be a part of it all. So much to take in, and I have only begun to tell my story...
Part 2: Sessions, Sessions, Sessions
Perhaps the main purpose, the real meat, of the Biennial was the sessions. I was able to attend five workshops and four of them were very good. The only one that really disappointed me was supposed to be about real world Jewish ethics, but it was just some rabbi with a rather dull presentation style who rambled on about the history of Talmudic law and focused on some case from the Second Century about whether or not agricultural workers had the right to eat the produce they were picking. Although it was not easy, I actually stood up and walked out; I found something better to do with my time.
But that was the exception to the rule. There was an interesting workshop on how to build programs for people in their 20s and 30s, which gave me some ideas about things I might like to do at Bet Chaim. Another useful workshop was on how to write a Devar Torah; unfortunately for me it was aimed more at the beginner rather than someone like me who has already written several and was hoping to pick up some tips and learn of a few new resources. Still, I admired the way the workshop was put together and liked when the leader described the Torah as "the gift that keeps on giving."
A really good session was called "Can We Pray What We Don't Believe?" There were several papers presented addressing the topic of prayer and personal belief, but the one that impressed me the most was delivered by Rabbi Harvey J. Fields of Los Angeles. His assertions that prayer was not so much about words as about a relationship with God, and that prayers evolve and change with time really touched me. After the session, I went up and introduced myself to Rabbi Fields. When he told me that the paper had not yet been published, I asked for and received permission to print it in the L'Chaim. (And it did appear in the January issue.)
Yet by far, the most inspirational session was called "A Love Affair with God: Seeking Modern Spirituality" presented by Rabbi Elliot Kleinman of Ohio. I almost skipped it since it was Sunday morning and many people were already leaving; but I am so glad I went. Kleinman spoke of developing a very personal relationship with God; how God and we reach out for each other; how we bless God in hopes that he will bless us back. Klienman reminded us that humans are half mud, half breath-of-God, yet God still loves us despite all our blemishes. He concluded saying that there is a blessing for everything, but most of us don't know all those blessings, so Klienman says its okay to pray, "Baruch atah Adonai elohenu melech haolam wow!" The difference between that, and simply saying "wow" is that the blessing makes you aware of the divine power that has caused this great thing whatever it is, be it a sunset, a Biennial, a kiss, whatever. I rather liked that.
In addition to all the small workshops, there were quite a few plenary sessions at the Biennial that everyone attended. Perhaps the most important of these were the ones where the delegates got to vote on the sometimes-controversial proposals. Not everyone at the Biennial was an official delegate, and I felt honored to hold up Bet Chaim's blue voting card, casting votes on behalf of our congregation supporting these progressive proposals, voting down amendments that would weaken them. There were proposals on supporting Jewish professionals, election reform, the mentally ill, and opposing religious persecution in China. By far, the most controversial proposal was opposing drilling in the Arctic National Wildlife Reserve. Some people said it was irresponsible energy policy not to pursue oil in the protected environment; some even said protecting the environment was no business of a religious organization. Those inane arguments were easily countered but one man proposed an amendment which would virtually nullify the entire statement. In the end, the final dramatic vote was 257 to 258, opposing the amendment. And then to my relief, the original proposal passed by a greater margin.
At other plenary sessions, we heard some really good speeches; a particularly powerful one was about the RAC--the Religious Action Center. We also saw some good video presentations on the various UAHC Camps, including our own Camp Coleman. There was also a very moving tribute to the recently deceased Rabbi Alex Schindler, former President of the UAHC. I had heard the name tossed around several times, but didn't really know who he was until that evening when I learned how he bravely forced many progressive issues on the UAHC, including patrilineal descent and support of women and gays, and encouraging outreach to interfaith families. Peter Yarrow, of the famous folk trio Peter Paul and Mary, who was a personal friend of Schindler, spoke of how he changed his life by bringing him into Judaism and sang two very moving songs.
Perhaps the most interesting speaker was Avraham Burg, the Speaker of the Knesset, who joined us via satellite from Israel. He spoke at length about the Palestinian conflict, condemning terrorism but conceded the reality that someday there will be a Palestinian state and Israel must prepare for it. Burg ended his talk with a very interesting hypothetical situation. He tried to imagine if he were able to talk to his bubbe and zaide, or their ancestors, or those from a century ago, or two centuries, or twenty, and tell them of the problems of Eretz Yisroel, their response would be, "What? Did Mosheach come?" Our generation of Jews has it better than any preceding generation. I liked that perspective.
At the plenary sessions they gave out many awards to some really important people including composer Ben Steinberg who wrote many of the tunes we sing every Friday evening; Sandra Roberts of Whitewell, Tennessee, who started the famous Paper-Clip Project where her students are trying to collect six million paper-clips to symbolize the six million victims of the Holocaust; and Deborah Lipstadt who stood up in court to denounce Holocaust deniers. But the biggest award, the prestigious Maurice Eisendrath Bearer of Light Award for Service to the World Community, was presented to the firefighters of FDNY Battalion 8 (the unit from the battery area of Manhattan that lost almost 100 people on September 11). It was accepted by their lieutenant who got three standing ovations. We all sang "Hatikvah" and "We Shall Overcome," swaying to the music. It was so overwhelmingly emotional; there was not a dry eye in the house.
Yet as fantastic as all of this was, it could not compare with the climax of a Biennial Shabbat...
Part 3: Shabbat in Boston!
The grand climax of the Biennial was Shabbat. Truly a "Shabbat Shabbaton"--a Sabbath of Sabbaths.
For me, it began in my hotel room as I looked out my window to see the sun setting over the jeweled city of Boston. A darkening sky with a glowing red tint in the west, lights of the city sparkling below, as I listened to my new Debbie Friedman CD setting the perfect mood for Shabbat.
Now dressed in my finest, I headed back to the convention center to pray with 7000 Jews. The services were very special to me as we welcomed the Sabbath and sang some new tunes. To be one of 7000 people saying the Shema is a rather awesome experience. Nearly brought tears to my eyes.
Shabbat dinners were with the regions, so I got to meet many people from the Southeast. Carol and Steve were happy to introduce me. After the dinner was the rousing sing-a-long. Unfortunately, I got separated from Steve and Carol and couldn't find them--in the giant hall, it was like trying to locate a needle in a haystack. So I hung out with some others I had recently met, but they soon decided to leave because they were too tired (hey, I didn't blame them because the convention gave us so little time to sleep). Alone again, I was half-tempted to leave, myself. But how could I leave something so vibrant, so full of life, with thousands of people jumping up and down and dancing in the aisles? The answer to my prayers came sooner than I expected when I looked up on the giant TV screen and who should I see but Steve and Carol in the second row! I ran over to join them and we spent the next 45 minutes singing, jumping, clapping, arm-in-arm. NFTY kids screaming like it was a rock concert. It was just so beautiful and inspiring. We were singing "Am Yisroel Chai," "V'ha-er Einaynu," "Osay Shalom," "Blowin' in the Wind." Steve pointed out to me that some of the greatest Jewish musicians of our time were up on that stage leading us. So inspiring and rousing, I actually had trouble getting to sleep that evening, my mind back in the hall, energized, still thumping to the music.
A rather interesting thing happened to me the next morning on my way to services. Walking from the hotel to the convention center, I was approached by a reporter from JTA, a Jewish news wire service, here to write a story about the Biennial. Her name was Julie Weiner and after talking to me for a while she decided to interview me for an article about how the Reform movement is re-inspiring Jews. (Several days later, when the article appeared on the website and was e-mailed to hundreds of thousands of Jews around the world, my name was at the very top of the article and I heard from many old acquaintances, including our former student rabbi Ellen Flax.)
Julie and I must have talked for 15 minutes or more. By the time we were finished, all the good seats were taken, so we sat together in the back. The morning service was not quite as inspiring as the night before, but it was still pretty moving. I especially liked the hakafah because they handed out maracas which we shook, giving "Al Shlosha Devarim" a salsa beat. It was during these services that President Yoffie gave his keynote address. He spoke of improving our religious schools, as well as expressing strong support for public education and condemned vouchers.
After services, everyone broke up to attend different Shabbat study-luncheons; the one I went to was terribly interesting. A rabbi named Sol Gittleman, who is a professor of literature at Tufts University, spoke on Yiddish literature, focusing particularly on the Tevya stories of Sholom Alechem (which later, after some changes, were made into "Fiddler on the Roof"). Before going into the specifics of the literature, he spent about a half-hour explaining the cultural, political, and social background of Jews in Eastern Europe in the late 19th and early 20th centuries. Then after detailing these original Tevya stories, he put it back into the larger context of Jewish-American literature of the early and mid 20th Century, referencing writers that I was familiar with like Singer and Roth. It was truly fascinating.
In the late afternoon, they held a mock-seder with the new Hagadah, "Open Doors," which is being put out by the CCAR for the first time this year. Debbie Friedman was there to lead and teach us some new songs. We also learned of some new Passover traditions, such as Miriam's Cup. But the best part was when Debbie sang "Miriam's Song" about dancing on the shores of the Red Sea; all of the women from the WJR got up and danced, holding hands, snaking their way around the tables, and to me it looked almost exactly like a painting I had seen of that very thing the other day in the Exhibit Hall. It was truly a sight to see.
Finally Shabbat ended with Havdallah. Strangers who now felt like family held each other, swayed, sang. Candle and spices. All quite beautiful.
Shabbat was over, but there was one last experience--a multi-media presentation called "Nes Gadol Hiya Po." It was part concert, part poetry recital, part slide show, part award ceremony. They honored eight people with video presentations and songs--one person for each night of Hanukkah: Helga Newmark, HUC-JIR's oldest graduate; Gunther Plaut, author of the Plaut Chumash; Kevie Kaplan, founder of the Religious Action Center; Allan "Smity" Smith, head of the youth programs. The final honoree was an empty chair for the future. "Someone, perhaps someone in this very room tonight, will make a fantastic contribution to the Union." I found it very inspiring.
What a day! What a week! In fact, it's fair to say that that week was the best week of my life in the last two-and-a-half years. I do not know if I will have another chance, but I certainly do hope I will be able to attend another Biennial. In 2003, the Biennial will be in Minneapolis; I wonder if I'll make it.
It is also my wish that everyone at Bet Chaim could have such a chance. It would truly be an inspiration and something great not only for our congregation, but for Judaism as a whole.
Next year in Jerusalem; the year after, in Minneapolis!