Yet another interfaith experience and the inevitable post-event thought dump
wanton_heat_jet teaches church school (read "Sunday school") at a local Unitarian church of which he's a member. He's a staunch atheist, but has a deep interest in history and spiritual traditions and is very well read on the subject. He recently asked me to come to his class and speak about Passover; today was the class. The whole experience has been interesting, and has gotten me thinking. (The following includes subheads in bold and italics so you can skip the stuff that might not interest you.)
What I took for granted: what's a Jew and where did all this happen?
That the kids would know what Judaism is: One of the first things JT told me was to be prepared to talk about what Judaism is. This surprised me. I couldn't imagine someone not at least having a basic idea. I had basic ideas about what being Catholic and Muslim meant when I was a kid. (But I was tutored by parents who made a point of sitting down with me every time National Geographic arrived in the mailbox and going through the whole issue with me, and who had lavishly illustrated history books all over the house.) The average age of his group is about 8 years old, all brought up in, essentially, areligious homes. So in preparing for what I would talk about, I found myself thinking about what Judaism is, what it means to be Jewish, how to define this for kids who really haven't thought much about religion, who had little historical background at all. For me, having been raised Jewish, it's always been an almost inarticulate understanding, bone deep for me. This was an opportunity to teach them--but I couldn't do that without finding ways to translate what I thought--felt--into words that someone outside of my own context could understand.
So besides trolling through my own library, off I went to the Web. After Googling questions like "What is a Jew?" (which, disturbingly, brings up amongst its top five hits a link to a white supremacist site with an "explanation" of Judaism) and "Who is a Jew?", I came away with some interesting results. Mainly, I came away with a summary that was a consensus across many Web sites.
A Jew is a) someone who is born of a Jewish mother and, b) someone who strives to emulate Abraham in three key ways: to be humble, to be generous, and to not be greedy. (Or, as Hillel said "That which is hateful to you, do not do to your fellow. That is the whole Torah. The rest is the commentary; go and learn.") The first definition was certainly not a surprise. It is one of the key ways that Judaism distinguishes itself from other faiths. Whether or not you practice Judaism, if your mother was Jewish, you can't help it: You're a Jew. The second definition was interesting to me because my Hebrew school training was all about other things: Jews worship one God; we're still waiting for the Messiah; our Sabbath is Friday night through Saturday night, and so on. The values listed above were never laid out quite so clearly and succinctly as they were in the several articles I read (everything from www.Judaism101.com to Wikipedia). In Hebrew school we never got around to, for example, the concept of tikkun olam (healing the world--though it was touched on via discussion of the concept of tsedakah--giving to charity) and such.
But the kids I would be talking to were Unitarians and ideas like humility, generosity and avoidance of greediness would be easy concepts to discuss because they are universal and entirely devoid of religious overtone. So I figured I had that one nailed.
That the kids would have a little tiny bit of historical or geographical reference: It didn't occur to me that the kids wouldn't already have some sort of context for the story of the Exodus until wanton_heat_jet suggested I had to explain what Judaism was. At that point, I couldn't make any assumptions at all. Thinking about it later, I realized that at least part of what I got out of Hebrew school was that historical and geographical context. Our classroom had maps and timelines and pictures of Israel all over the walls. Part of religious education for me was history. So I had to think about that a little bit.
What I came up with was that I had to figure out which personalities I wanted to make sure I mentioned and set them in their proper place. wanton_heat_jet ended up supplying the geographical context with a map in the classroom.
That the kids would at least have some Jewish friend somewhere: But that's a really bad assumption to make in Seattle, since we're so few and far between, and since the Jewish community here is so insular.
So here I was, in this exercise, examining my assumptions before going in. (Reminded me of my thought process on becoming part of the the Seattle Lesbian and Gay Chorus. That was a wake-up call, and one I wouldn't trade for the world.) That's always a good exercise; helps sharpen my perspective and sensitize me to the world.
What we did in the class
We ended up with only two students. wanton_heat_jet credited it to the daylight-saving time shift, and we went ahead as best we could; in the end it turned out very well. We started by having the kids look at a map and figuring out where Israel and Egypt are. Then, using my seder plate, haggadah, kiddush cup (which stood in for the cup of Elijah), cup of Miriam (on which more later), matzoh and some charoset that I made fresh this morning, we talked about the Passover seder, what it is and why we do it. wanton_heat_jet then had the kids act out the story of the Exodus (how else does an RPG designer tell a story?), each taking the parts of the Pharoah, Moses, the first born sons of Egypt, the Hebrews, the Angel of Death and so on. The kids really got into the spirit of things; there was much laughter and enthusiasm. We closed out the two-or-so hours with the kids coloring their own seder plates and munching on matzoh and charoset. wanton_heat_jet had never had charoset and just chowed down, which I thought was entertaining (though not entirely unexpected--the stuff is so tasty). We never actually got around to discussing what Judaism is, though we did talk about how Jews are still waiting for the Messiah. We talked about Passover's connection to Easter, and how America's black slaves identified with and took inspiration from the story of the Exodus.
The sad thing: My bag fell off a table and my cup of Miriam broke. Now, regardless of my mixed feelings about the whole concept of the cup of Miriam as part of the seder (Why single out Miriam, when no one but God and the Hebrews are mentioned in the haggadah? It diverts the point of the ritual.), I was really upset about this because I made the thing myself and was very proud of it. If there's a silver lining, it's that the seder plate my mother made didn't break as well. But I'm really sad about the cup, sadder than I might have expected. I have to go make another one. It's not even a question. So, there's an upside: I have a craft project ahead of me. Still, this makes me really sad.
My take-aways
How class worked out: The experience wasn't quite what I expected it to be somehow. wanton_heat_jet structured the lesson a little differently than I would have. I would have had the kids act out the story first so they had context for the seder information, but his position was that the emphasis of the class was supposed to be on what the holiday is and how it's celebrated rather than, necessarily, the whole story behind it; for myself, I find it hard to separate the one from the other. He also said that he wanted to get the kids into the seder first because we had the props right there, things they could see and touch that would give them an anchor into all the other stuff we were going to discuss, which makes a great deal of sense. (That's why he's the teacher and I was just the guest.) So that was my first take-away: the differences between teaching kids and teaching teens and adults.
Religious vs. secular upbringing: I've also found myself thinking about what's lost and what's gained in raising kids with and/or without religion. I don't think that one way is better than the other. It's a choice that every family has to make for itself. For me, Jewish education was not only a door into Judaism, but a window into ancient history. Certainly you can give a kid a window into ancient history without religion, pretty much the way my parents did for my brother and I: by having books around, and magazines, taking us to museums, and making a point to open that window. I think what might be lost--and I'm saying might here--is a way for kids to take history personally. Judaism did that for me; it gave me a way to connect with those people thousands of years ago and made history more real for me.
I think what also might be lost is a way to acknowledge and deal with life cycle events--birth, coming of age and especially the toughest of them all, death. Judaism, I think, handles death in a very practical way: quick burial so that the emphasis is on taking care of those left behind, a formal period of mourning to acknowledge and experience pain and loss, a ceremony for acknowledging the end of that period, and a regular ritual of remembrance that acknowledges that loss is always a part of life but that memory is where the dead still live on. Americans are so bad at dealing with death; people die and those they leave behind are expected to move on almost as if nothing as happened. Religion provides a framework, at least, for social interaction at such a time, and for recognition that something has happened, something important and life-altering, something that doesn't just go away. Maybe it's my own experience, my own myopia, that keeps me from seeing how one can manage death in a secular framework so that all of these issues are addressed and respected. But all this thinking confirms my personal conviction that, in this, a religious upbringing provides a stronger foundation for kids in some things than a secular one does.
wanton_heat_jet wondered to me how to teach kids to accept the idea of voluntary self-denial outside of a religious context. Would one fast without a religious reason to do so? Thinking back on the conversation now, of course it's possible to teach kids self-denial as and when necessary outside a religious context; the lesson would be slightly different. Self-discipline is a tough lesson to teach (since that's what self-denial is, isn't it?) regardless of context.
Christian--but not?: I liked the idea that Unitarianism is a way to explore and discover your own spirituality without the burden of an overarching flavor, whatever it may be. I'm sort of baffled about how you do that in a context where Christmas and Easter are celebrated, though, exclusive of any other holiday connected to any other spiritual tradition. I don't get that at all. That's a question for me to ask wanton_heat_jet at some point. I liked the openness of the community to different beliefs and ideas, but it feels odd to me to assert such a philosophy and then single out observances from one religious tradition among all others.
Oh yeah, I'm a minority: The church was teeming with people when I was there because it was, after all, Sunday morning. From an ethnic perspective, I stuck out like a sore thumb. There I was with my distinctly eastern European looks amongst folks who looked to my eyes all very northern and western European. A lot of the names that I saw around the place--on printed items and on plaques--were of such descent. The experience was in huge contrast to attending the concert I saw last night: a performance of Medieval Jewish music at a local synagogue, where everyone looked, at most, like distant cousins. I don't think I'll ever get used to being a minority after growing up in a New York. The reminders are always a surprise. Perhaps this is a good thing: I've been in the Pacific Northwest long enough that I've sort of forgotten about it, and maybe that's why it's always a surprise when I'm reminded.
Conclusions? I'm not sure I've come to any beyond the above, except that it's important for me to keep challenging my own assumptions, to keep exploring how other people live and what they believe. I know that sometimes my own beliefs will be confirmed by such exploration and sometimes they may evolve as a result. One way or another, the exercise is always worth it.
What I took for granted: what's a Jew and where did all this happen?
That the kids would know what Judaism is: One of the first things JT told me was to be prepared to talk about what Judaism is. This surprised me. I couldn't imagine someone not at least having a basic idea. I had basic ideas about what being Catholic and Muslim meant when I was a kid. (But I was tutored by parents who made a point of sitting down with me every time National Geographic arrived in the mailbox and going through the whole issue with me, and who had lavishly illustrated history books all over the house.) The average age of his group is about 8 years old, all brought up in, essentially, areligious homes. So in preparing for what I would talk about, I found myself thinking about what Judaism is, what it means to be Jewish, how to define this for kids who really haven't thought much about religion, who had little historical background at all. For me, having been raised Jewish, it's always been an almost inarticulate understanding, bone deep for me. This was an opportunity to teach them--but I couldn't do that without finding ways to translate what I thought--felt--into words that someone outside of my own context could understand.
So besides trolling through my own library, off I went to the Web. After Googling questions like "What is a Jew?" (which, disturbingly, brings up amongst its top five hits a link to a white supremacist site with an "explanation" of Judaism) and "Who is a Jew?", I came away with some interesting results. Mainly, I came away with a summary that was a consensus across many Web sites.
A Jew is a) someone who is born of a Jewish mother and, b) someone who strives to emulate Abraham in three key ways: to be humble, to be generous, and to not be greedy. (Or, as Hillel said "That which is hateful to you, do not do to your fellow. That is the whole Torah. The rest is the commentary; go and learn.") The first definition was certainly not a surprise. It is one of the key ways that Judaism distinguishes itself from other faiths. Whether or not you practice Judaism, if your mother was Jewish, you can't help it: You're a Jew. The second definition was interesting to me because my Hebrew school training was all about other things: Jews worship one God; we're still waiting for the Messiah; our Sabbath is Friday night through Saturday night, and so on. The values listed above were never laid out quite so clearly and succinctly as they were in the several articles I read (everything from www.Judaism101.com to Wikipedia). In Hebrew school we never got around to, for example, the concept of tikkun olam (healing the world--though it was touched on via discussion of the concept of tsedakah--giving to charity) and such.
But the kids I would be talking to were Unitarians and ideas like humility, generosity and avoidance of greediness would be easy concepts to discuss because they are universal and entirely devoid of religious overtone. So I figured I had that one nailed.
That the kids would have a little tiny bit of historical or geographical reference: It didn't occur to me that the kids wouldn't already have some sort of context for the story of the Exodus until wanton_heat_jet suggested I had to explain what Judaism was. At that point, I couldn't make any assumptions at all. Thinking about it later, I realized that at least part of what I got out of Hebrew school was that historical and geographical context. Our classroom had maps and timelines and pictures of Israel all over the walls. Part of religious education for me was history. So I had to think about that a little bit.
What I came up with was that I had to figure out which personalities I wanted to make sure I mentioned and set them in their proper place. wanton_heat_jet ended up supplying the geographical context with a map in the classroom.
That the kids would at least have some Jewish friend somewhere: But that's a really bad assumption to make in Seattle, since we're so few and far between, and since the Jewish community here is so insular.
So here I was, in this exercise, examining my assumptions before going in. (Reminded me of my thought process on becoming part of the the Seattle Lesbian and Gay Chorus. That was a wake-up call, and one I wouldn't trade for the world.) That's always a good exercise; helps sharpen my perspective and sensitize me to the world.
What we did in the class
We ended up with only two students. wanton_heat_jet credited it to the daylight-saving time shift, and we went ahead as best we could; in the end it turned out very well. We started by having the kids look at a map and figuring out where Israel and Egypt are. Then, using my seder plate, haggadah, kiddush cup (which stood in for the cup of Elijah), cup of Miriam (on which more later), matzoh and some charoset that I made fresh this morning, we talked about the Passover seder, what it is and why we do it. wanton_heat_jet then had the kids act out the story of the Exodus (how else does an RPG designer tell a story?), each taking the parts of the Pharoah, Moses, the first born sons of Egypt, the Hebrews, the Angel of Death and so on. The kids really got into the spirit of things; there was much laughter and enthusiasm. We closed out the two-or-so hours with the kids coloring their own seder plates and munching on matzoh and charoset. wanton_heat_jet had never had charoset and just chowed down, which I thought was entertaining (though not entirely unexpected--the stuff is so tasty). We never actually got around to discussing what Judaism is, though we did talk about how Jews are still waiting for the Messiah. We talked about Passover's connection to Easter, and how America's black slaves identified with and took inspiration from the story of the Exodus.
The sad thing: My bag fell off a table and my cup of Miriam broke. Now, regardless of my mixed feelings about the whole concept of the cup of Miriam as part of the seder (Why single out Miriam, when no one but God and the Hebrews are mentioned in the haggadah? It diverts the point of the ritual.), I was really upset about this because I made the thing myself and was very proud of it. If there's a silver lining, it's that the seder plate my mother made didn't break as well. But I'm really sad about the cup, sadder than I might have expected. I have to go make another one. It's not even a question. So, there's an upside: I have a craft project ahead of me. Still, this makes me really sad.
My take-aways
How class worked out: The experience wasn't quite what I expected it to be somehow. wanton_heat_jet structured the lesson a little differently than I would have. I would have had the kids act out the story first so they had context for the seder information, but his position was that the emphasis of the class was supposed to be on what the holiday is and how it's celebrated rather than, necessarily, the whole story behind it; for myself, I find it hard to separate the one from the other. He also said that he wanted to get the kids into the seder first because we had the props right there, things they could see and touch that would give them an anchor into all the other stuff we were going to discuss, which makes a great deal of sense. (That's why he's the teacher and I was just the guest.) So that was my first take-away: the differences between teaching kids and teaching teens and adults.
Religious vs. secular upbringing: I've also found myself thinking about what's lost and what's gained in raising kids with and/or without religion. I don't think that one way is better than the other. It's a choice that every family has to make for itself. For me, Jewish education was not only a door into Judaism, but a window into ancient history. Certainly you can give a kid a window into ancient history without religion, pretty much the way my parents did for my brother and I: by having books around, and magazines, taking us to museums, and making a point to open that window. I think what might be lost--and I'm saying might here--is a way for kids to take history personally. Judaism did that for me; it gave me a way to connect with those people thousands of years ago and made history more real for me.
I think what also might be lost is a way to acknowledge and deal with life cycle events--birth, coming of age and especially the toughest of them all, death. Judaism, I think, handles death in a very practical way: quick burial so that the emphasis is on taking care of those left behind, a formal period of mourning to acknowledge and experience pain and loss, a ceremony for acknowledging the end of that period, and a regular ritual of remembrance that acknowledges that loss is always a part of life but that memory is where the dead still live on. Americans are so bad at dealing with death; people die and those they leave behind are expected to move on almost as if nothing as happened. Religion provides a framework, at least, for social interaction at such a time, and for recognition that something has happened, something important and life-altering, something that doesn't just go away. Maybe it's my own experience, my own myopia, that keeps me from seeing how one can manage death in a secular framework so that all of these issues are addressed and respected. But all this thinking confirms my personal conviction that, in this, a religious upbringing provides a stronger foundation for kids in some things than a secular one does.
wanton_heat_jet wondered to me how to teach kids to accept the idea of voluntary self-denial outside of a religious context. Would one fast without a religious reason to do so? Thinking back on the conversation now, of course it's possible to teach kids self-denial as and when necessary outside a religious context; the lesson would be slightly different. Self-discipline is a tough lesson to teach (since that's what self-denial is, isn't it?) regardless of context.
Christian--but not?: I liked the idea that Unitarianism is a way to explore and discover your own spirituality without the burden of an overarching flavor, whatever it may be. I'm sort of baffled about how you do that in a context where Christmas and Easter are celebrated, though, exclusive of any other holiday connected to any other spiritual tradition. I don't get that at all. That's a question for me to ask wanton_heat_jet at some point. I liked the openness of the community to different beliefs and ideas, but it feels odd to me to assert such a philosophy and then single out observances from one religious tradition among all others.
Oh yeah, I'm a minority: The church was teeming with people when I was there because it was, after all, Sunday morning. From an ethnic perspective, I stuck out like a sore thumb. There I was with my distinctly eastern European looks amongst folks who looked to my eyes all very northern and western European. A lot of the names that I saw around the place--on printed items and on plaques--were of such descent. The experience was in huge contrast to attending the concert I saw last night: a performance of Medieval Jewish music at a local synagogue, where everyone looked, at most, like distant cousins. I don't think I'll ever get used to being a minority after growing up in a New York. The reminders are always a surprise. Perhaps this is a good thing: I've been in the Pacific Northwest long enough that I've sort of forgotten about it, and maybe that's why it's always a surprise when I'm reminded.
Conclusions? I'm not sure I've come to any beyond the above, except that it's important for me to keep challenging my own assumptions, to keep exploring how other people live and what they believe. I know that sometimes my own beliefs will be confirmed by such exploration and sometimes they may evolve as a result. One way or another, the exercise is always worth it.