Good God: Faith for the Rest of Us

Radbam December 8th, 2009

Image: Devlin Donnelly

Recently, I rehearsed with our Temple Rock Shabbat ensemble for an upcoming Chanukah extravaganza, a feast of lights and latkes that hopes to uplift the potato-and-oil encumbered out of an imminent food coma.  We ran through the tunes on the social hall stage, not the usual venue for worship and the first time I’d played music on those well-trodden boards.  As a baby boom aficionado of classic rock, I couldn’t help but gush over thoughts of a previous performer on that stage:  Jimi Hendrix.  Documented legend has it that one of the Be-Stratocastered One’s early public forays happened in this hall, better known for Gay Bingo, Purim carnivals and the cheesy musings of Bar Mitzvah party DJs.  Perhaps the ghost of sonic solos past was absent, but I felt a kind of privileged vibe, as though I was humbly treading on sacred ground, requiring me to remove ego if not my sandals. And I felt I was repurposing, or even rededicating this space for a musical experience that rocks the soul in different, but proportional ways.

The word Chanukah means “rededication,” a direct reference to the historic victory of the freedom-fighting Jewish tribe, the Maccabees, over the religiously repressive Syrian Greeks.  The descendants of the Maccabees became tyrannical rulers, and so troubled later rabbis cultivated the legend of the rededication of the ransacked Temple, where a vial of oil for one day miraculously lasted for eight (GM should produce such fuel efficient vehicles).  The focus shifted from a commemoration of victory and victors to a consciousness of God’s power and our ability to recognize it in our lives.

Though a celebration of triumph over religious persecution served Jews well as inspiring model throughout their daunting journey, the focus on broad, historical ideals speaks less incisively to the last few generations of Jews complacent and comfortable in 21st century America.  Domestic battles for status and opportunity are barely remembered by grandparents, and efforts to strive for the freedoms of the distant and downtrodden are limited in their power to move.

While a minor festival, and despite the protestations of generations of rabbis, educators and anxious Jews (are there any other kind?), Chanukah has continued to become the de facto Christmas for many, with a diminishing awareness of theology and values, and a seemingly annual amplification of  the lust to buy and have .  In the worst sense of having finally “made it” in America, Chanukah has become for Jews as superficial, materialistic and empty as the purported birth of the Savior nominally celebrated by the majority culture.

This trying situation begs the age-old semitic query:  What’s a mother to do? Is there a way to counter both the alienating abstraction of Chanukah’s lessons and stem the flow of value from what has become a bloodless homage to purchase power?  In many ways, the Chanukah challenge reflects the growing disenchantment with religious traditions and communities.  While rejecting institutional faith, many profess a deep and abiding “spirituality.”  Public joining has given way to personal journeying as the most authentic expression of faith in the modern world.  What does this new dynamic mean for those of us who hope to restore Chanukah to its more meaningful, less pecuniary past?

Perhaps the answer lies in going with the cultural flow rather than fighting it, not pandering to what Chanukah has become, but repurposing, or even rededicating the holiday observance as we rededicate ourselves to its highest ideals.  The Jewish High Holidays during the fall are the classic time to re-evaluate and repent.  But September is filled with distractions as the summer ends, school begins and work-a-day schedules reboot.  The Gregorian calendar refreshes around this time of year, and with it, a secular re-assessment of self has seeped into our cultural conscience. New Year’s resolutions rarely transcend gym and Jenny Craig memberships.

What if Jews, and even the spiritual descendants of the most famous Jew, embraced this season as a time for an accounting of the soul toward spiritual and moral refinement?  With winter’s pressures toward a physical and emotional turning inward, our hearts, minds and attention-spans are free to focus on more than just Bowl Games, calorie counting and looming credit card debt. We can give our children something beyond a gift that will barely be remembered by MLK weekend. Here are some new holiday approaches:

-Take some time as a family to make 2 lists on a 3X 5 card.  Place a plus on one side, a minus on the other, and a line down the middle. Under the plus, write things you want to do better and more often.  Under the minus, things you want to avoid and do less often. Do this individually and as a family unit.

-Insist that at least one of the days of Chanukah is dedicated to learning about a needy organization or cause, and giving time or resources in support.  The more physically present and personal the effort, the better.  The best giving is done face to face.   Gifts through the postal service or paypal are a good start, but nothing impacts like the human touch.

-Give the gift of self this season. While family trips and festive meals are wonderful, it’s easy to get lost in a houseful of guests and a laundry list of logistics.  Try to spend genuine and concerted time, one on one and as a family.  And, God forbid, turn the TV and computer off for an afternoon.  Who knows what you can find surfing a spouse or sibling?

I doubt that I will channel any searing Jimi jams this Friday night on my humble axe, though I will certainly open myself to any stray astral rays on that sanctified stage. And I hope there will also be openness to new perspectives and new ways to re-energize tired and exploited rites, forging cynicism and consumerism into fresh and refreshing pathways to personal faith and the principles that sustain community.  This is religion at its best.  This is a faith worth fighting for.

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