churban and galut

Last night when I was leaving to teach to Melton Eli asked me where I was going. When I told him I was off to teach he looked at me very matter of factly (from the bathtub) and replied "okay, but really you are just mostly a mommy". Hooray! As I suspected I am queen. I have it all.

Meanwhile, what a subject matter, churban and galut, ugh! Destruction and exile. The students were distracted last night. Passing around new rings and sharing stories of trips to Chicago. They are young, the future Jewish leaders and they are lovely. Intelligent and warm and funny. The thing is though is that they are not really adults. Not yet.

Last nigh Shuli was bothered with the idea that even within our most joyous times Jews are bound to remember the destruction of the Temple and exile from Jerusalem. "Why can't we just have moments in our tradition of pure joy, why bring death and destruction into everything that we do?" Shuli is newly married, Israeli. What happens next is pure Melton and it is why this is such a brilliant program. Everyone went around and tried to convince Shuli of the necessity of bringing the churban and galut into our joyful occasions. "It is a part of our history, the fabric of our tradition", "It is ritual, and ritual is important". They brought in examples from their own lives and from (yes!) texts that we had studied that evening. Shuli remained unconvinced. Who can blame her really? All she wanted was one pure moment of joy to celebrate that she had found her life partner.

I have to say though, although I can understand Shuli's perspective, I fundamentally disagree with her. Bringing in destruction and exile into everything we do, especially our joyful moments, seems to me to exactly define the human experience. When something is broken it can never be fixed. When a soul is injured the injury is always there. The good times do not erase the bad. The good times are wonderful, and the key, really I think to joy is ,making a conscious effort to decide that the good times will outweigh the bad. Outweigh but not erase. I think our tradition of remembering the destroyed, the broken, the exiled, during times of joy is brilliant. Even in our happiest times we are acknowledging that while our hearts our very full, they will always be a little bit broken.

I suspect Shuli knows this. She does not strike me as someone who has not suffered in life. All the more so in her mind then that her joy should be unbridled. Just as her pain is. But this is where religion comes in. We are also not allowed to suffer unbridled pain. We must mourn in a minyan, a community. Although said like a dirge or a mantra the words to the Kaddish are uplifting, hopeful even. Religion gives structure to our emotions. We celebrate as we grieve. We mourn as we affirm our faith.

Shuli, like many of my students,struggles with issues of religion. They are looking for themselves in these texts and often find the texts lacking. They are looking for connections but necessarily finding them in these texts of ours. Can you teach a person to give the text the benefit of the doubt? To open it up and probe it and to even forgive it? I think so, but maybe only once you have grown up a bit.

Like all the students I've ever had I am very dedicated to this group. I have found something that I adore about each and every one of them. I am curious to see what this group will do. They are lovely.