By guest blogger Rabbi Elyse Wechterman
An odd question, you might think, coming from a synagogue rabbi. But one with which I and my colleagues wrestle on a daily basis, especially as we find ourselves competing for attention with reality television, downloadable music, the constant twitter of online communication, sports (both professional and intramural), and now, the ever-present worry about jobs, financial security and our futures.
It’s a question I often ask in the negative – what are we doing here when so many people would clearly rather be somewhere else? (After a particularly bad day at Hebrew School or a poorly attended Shabbat service.)
This past weekend, I found myself contemplating the question from a completely different point of view – from the place of hope and inspiration I found reading two very different, but compelling takes on spirituality in newspapers this weekend. The first was by columnist and author Jay Michaelson in the April 24th issue of the Jewish Daily Forward on the meaning and purpose of Jewish ritual. The second was by Bono, lead singer of U2, in the New York Times Week in Review of April 19 on the “state of your soul.”
Michaelson asks different questions in his article: “What does spirituality do?” and “What purpose do [the rituals and practices of religion] serve?” And Bono’s commentary is simply titled: “It’s 2009. Do you know where your soul is?”
Both go on to share beautiful moments of transcendence and transformation they each experienced while engaged in the tasks of performing religious acts.
It is important to note that neither Michaelson nor Bono are traditionalists when it comes to their respective religions: Michaelson is most definitely not an Orthodox Jew and tends to travel in some of the same Jewish spiritual circles that I do and Bono is by no means an orthodox Catholic.
Michaelson described blowing a shofar while alone in the woods one Rosh Hashana day and finding that the “ancient sound of the ram’s horn instantly stripped away layers of ego, rationale, doubt and even the notion of time itself. I felt transported to some primordial moment of religious awe, at once pre-rational and trans-rational, nonsensical and deeply true.”
From this experience, Michaelson understands Jewish ritual as a technology, a tool for transformation of the self “in ways that ideology, philosophy, nationalism and ethnicity do not.” And, he claims, “it works.”
He is not an advocate of any form of literalism in the mythology of the Jewish people: “it doesn’t matter whether God is a benevolent father looking down on us all, or a delusion of the mind. It doesn’t matter whether the Exodus story happened or not. What matters is that we possess technology that can transform the self, open the mind, unite a community, motivate ethical behavior and bring forth tears when your heart is broken. Before you light candles [on Friday night] you’re thinking of your mortgage; afterward, you’re thinking of your kids, or the meaning of life, or something else that actually matters. That’s what counts.” The stories of the bible, the specifics of the rituals are tools to Michaelson: “It’s the transformation, not the myth, that matters.”
Similarly, Bono writes about the transcendent rebirth he experiences at Easter. “a rebirth I always seem to need,” he says. “Never more so than a few years ago when my father died. I recall the embarrassment and relief of hot tears as I knelt in a chapel in a village in France and repented my prodigal nature – repented for fighting my father for so many years and wasting so many opportunities to know him better…. I remember the feeling of ‘a peace that passes understanding.’”
Bono is a worshiper at many different alters on his global journeys. “I come to lowly churches and lofty cathedrals for what purpose? I search Scriptures to what end? To check my head? My heart? No, my soul. For me, these meditations are like a plumb line dropped by a master builder – to see if the walls are straight or crooked. I check my emotional life with music, my intellectual life with writing, but religion is where I soul-search.”
Bono concludes his piece by suggesting that now, more then ever, as the “carnival” of “overheated markets and climates” crashes down into recession, regression and ecological and economical disaster, we need access to the tools and technology of soul-searching available to all of us.
So I return to my original question. What is a synagogue for?
Part of me wants to answer with the communitarian values I believe we excel at here at Congregation Agudas Achim: creating mutual support systems, educating ourselves and our children, bringing people together for celebrations of life, remembering our past, creating community.
But another part of me wants to look beyond those lofty goals (which can also be accomplished at JCCs, Jewish social service agencies and other educational institutions in the Jewish community). Synagogues, congregations, houses of worship are uniquely positioned to be the cataloguers, experimenters, store houses, creators and disseminators – laboratories, if you will – for the tools and technologies of transcendence; for creating the opportunities and methods by which Jews and fellow travelers experience moments of connection, the presence of the divine, a touch of the holy in our otherwise ordinary lives.
As Michaelson concludes his article: “Jewish religious practice is a technology for waking up to life.” The synagogue is the storehouse: You are invited to come in and use it.
Elyse Wechterman is the Rabbi at Congregation Agudas Achim in Attleboro, MA, a Synaplex congregation, and also an alumna of STAR’s PEER program.