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Mortality. The purpose of existence. How to live. These are all themes forced into our consciousness by the High Holy Days, with its liturgical focus onthe fleeting nature of existence, the imminence of death, the opportunity for renewal.
As the Fingerhut professor of education at American Jewish University and president of Synagogue 3000 — a program designed to rethink Jewish synagogue practices and goals — Ron Wolfson has long been looking for answers to some of life’s most complex questions. At the same time, he has remained, at his core, a teacher. And a teacher, he said “always starts with a question.”
Salvation comes in many forms: religion, prayer, meditation, friends and family. For David Zasloff, though, it came in the form of humor and music, specifically the musical heritage of ancient Jerusalem: the Shakuhachi (Japanese) flute, drums, autoharp and, most notably, the shofar.
The caretaker of the only shul in Rangoon, Burma, posted this notice just outside the sanctuary before Rosh Hashanah, 2007:
What does the chef of Oxnard’s Tierra Sur cook for Rosh Hashanah? Since his kosher restaurant — located at Herzog Wine Cellars — is closed during the holiday, Todd Aarons has the opportunity to create a family meal at home.
First, my confession. And it comes with a slice of guilt. I never liked the High Holy Days. In fact, as the thoughts of family and friend-filled Passover seders would start to fade each year, I would begin to think about the impending Days of Awe with a knot in my stomach and a distaste in my mouth that even the thought of sweet apples and honey could do little to relieve. What’s worse is that as a Jewish educator, I would be charged each September to teach about the meaningfulness of these Tishrei days: the opportunity to reflect, to return, to become a better person.
Ever since the California legislature passed a bill banning the use of hand-held cell phones by drivers, I’ve been anxious that the law might be expanded to include shofar blowing, as well. My husband, David, is the shofar blower for our small Santa Monica synagogue. Like everyone else in Los Angeles, he spends an inordinate amount of time in his car, commuting to and from work and to meetings.
Around Rosh Hashanah, when the weather is often still hot, many of us prefer our menu to be a bit lighter and easier than the traditional holiday fare. To make it lighter, I like to include plenty of produce, serve chicken as a main course and bake a cake with oil, not margarine. To simplify preparation and serving, I choose dishes that can be prepared in advance and reheated.
Among the many Jewish holidays, Rosh Hashanah is probably second only to Passover as a time when Jews most embrace the cliché “you are what you eat.” The emphasis on the symbolism of specific foods on this holiday is well-known: honey represents our hopes for a sweet year ahead, a round challah for a perfect year, a fish head represents the rosh, or head, of the year, and a pomegranate celebrates the new harvest. I’ve recently begun thinking about extending this concept to the design of the whole Rosh Hashanah menu.
Religion has a central place in many horror movies -- think of "The Omen," "The Exorcist," "Carrie," "Seven" and my favorite, "Rosemary’s Baby." It isn't difficult to suggest reasons why. Pageantry, sublimated sexuality, suffering, sin, death -- these are core elements of most religions that are right at home in the horror genre.
The economic downturn has caused many of us to think long and hard about rebalancing our investment portfolios, reducing expenses, and readjusting our priorities when faced with a job loss, the loss of retirement income or looming medical bills.
Fearing jihadists will attack synagogues during Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur, a group of badass rabbis has developed a program to turn your average shul-goer into a lean, mean fighting machine.
With Rosh Hashanah 5770 fast approaching, the synagogue membership renewal season is in full swing. Throughout the summer months, billing statements with letters explaining dues, fees — and often increases — arrive in congregants’ mailboxes.
Alistair Cohen, aspiring British TV presenter, demonstrates how to blow a shofar.
"You hear so much from autism organizations about what a horrible disease this is and how the parents have been robbed of their children, yada, yada, yada, and I suppose on a certain level that is true," Jacob told me, typing the words on a special keyboard that allows him to fully express his ideas. "But I refuse to live the rest of my life believing I am a defective human being. I have gifts and talents and challenges just like everyone else, and I have the same desire for connection and a need to be treated with dignity and respect."
Next time you see someone like me at your synagogue or at your event, remember that they probably feel really lonely and you could be the person to make their day by smiling at them and letting them know that they exist.
"Not eating is not suffering," he said, "it's elevating ourselves to a state of transcendence. The fast, on Yom Kippur, reminds us how little material we really need; that we can do with less meat, with less bread, with less of everything."
We have more synagogues and more freedom to use them here in Los Angeles than we did in Iran, but that doesn't mean we're any closer to fulfilling the true purpose of gathering in a house of worship.
In Jewish tradition, the act of seeking forgiveness from someone we have harmed is clear and specific.
The Matrix, the Kotel, the Days of Awe are all linked in this music video from Ori Murray shot in Jerusalem.
Rabbi Mark Bloom of Oakland's Temple Beth Abraham rocks out to the Rosh Hashanah Macarena
A montage of news photos from 5768 plus cantorial and modern music take this version of the 'Who shall live' prayer into YouTube land.
Leonard Cohen in a live performance of his song 'Who by fire?' based on the High Holy Days U'Netaneh Tokef prayer
The U'netaneh Tokef prayer says: On Rosh Hashanah it is inscribed, and on Yom Kippur it is sealed: Who shall live and who shall die, who shall perish by water and who by fire, who by famine and who by thirst . God's got it on His iPhone, of course.
The U'netaneh Tokef prayer-poem (who shall live and who shall die) can be seen as ominous or beautiful, depending upon the prism of the interpreter. Rabbi Naomi Levy pointed out that the prayer was written by "one dude" and should not be seen as a divine writ.
Watch the Torah Slam in this video from our friends at the Jewish Television Network
Within the calendar that constitutes the Jewish cathedral in time, no days are more saturated with the experience of human nature, and with experiments in human change, than the Days of Awe. This is when we are asked, paradoxically, both to steep in our powerlessness to escape our species' fate, and yet also to try out behaviors that can rescue us from our destinies.
Adat Chaverim is a small congregation of secular, Humanistic Jews, whose brochure proposes that "reason rather than faith is the source of truth, and human intelligence and experience are capable of guiding our lives."
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