by rabbi gedalia potash & rabbi jonathan jaffe
Ben Zoma says: Who is wise? The one who learns from everyone. — Pirke Avot, 4:1
One day last summer, the two of us met to discuss how we could bring our communities closer together. Here we were, two San Francisco rabbis, born a single day apart and working a few miles from one another, and yet in seemingly separate worlds.
We committed that day to breach this gap and to bring Reform and Chassidic Jews together, not in the spirit of division or condemnation, but rather in partnership and learning.
And so, from late October to the end of last month, members of Congregation Emanu-El and Chabad of Noe Valley came together one night each week to study Torah and to learn from one another.
Historically speaking, this class presented a radical break from the usual avoidance practiced between Reform and Orthodox communities. At the same time, Reform Judaism and Chabad’s Chassidism share common roots as modern responses to the perceived banality of rote custom, which is why the class was titled “One People, Two Worlds: An exploration of Reform Judaism and Chabad.”
We differ only in the remedy: While Chabad sought to imbue ritual with additional kavanah (insight), Reform Judaism chose to reconsider those rituals and liturgies that no longer held meaning in the modern world.
But as the Reform movement now continues its current trend toward a re-examination of once-dismissed customs, we sense an opportunity to learn from one another. After all, we share not only a common past but a common vision as well: To reach out to those on the periphery of Judaism, to welcome and inspire them to bring the majesty of Judaism into their homes. And so we set out on this journey together.
Along with 15 classmates from both communities, we wrestled with such pivotal issues as the authority of oral and written Torah, the role of mitzvahs, patrilineal and matrilineal descent, the place of women in society, the messiah and messianism, and Zionism.
We also considered what a Jew’s role in the world should be — after all, Reform Judaism and Chabad have very different views on how public Jews should be with our rituals and observances. For classical Reform Jews, Judaism was meant to be relegated to the private domain, although this has changed somewhat over time. Chabad, on the other hand, has a much more public focus, with town-square menorah lightings, tefillin wrapping and the like.
At times the discussion became heated and we agreed to disagree. But throughout the thorniest of issues, we rededicated ourselves to the idea of klal Yisrael, that we are ultimately one people with both a shared history and destiny. All Israel is responsible for one another, not just those who share common views or customs.
And in due course, we found much more in common than we have in conflict.
In mid-December, we celebrated Shabbat together at Chabad of Noe Valley and at Rabbi Potash’s home, where we sat together for a festive meal. Over food, song and plenty of wine, the group toasted our newfound connection and friendship.
The entire class also shared in moments of tragedy, such as the inspiring memorial for the victims of the Mumbai attack, including Rabbi Potash’s yeshiva classmate, Rabbi Gavriel Holtzberg. Our discussions consistently spilled over the allotted class time, from 7 to 9 p.m., and students regularly elected to study together into the late hours of the night. We learned that contact and exchange does not only lead to quarrel, but also can be utilized toward understanding and connection as well.
The finale of the eight-session series was Dec. 29, but the series was so successful, we are thinking about doing another one later this year.
We recognize that our experience is somewhat unique. There are few places in the world where Orthodox and progressive Jews study together, much less Chabad and Reform. In Israel and even on the East Coast, such an exchange is virtually unheard of.
But if we refuse to speak with one another, we ultimately suffer from our own insulation. If Torah is truly not in the heavens, but rather in our mouths and hearts, then we find completion only in engaging the Torah found in the other.
And so we present this tale as an example of collaboration, in the spirit of the psalmist: Behold, how good and pleasant it is for brothers and sisters to come together in unity.
We look forward to continuing our effort to live up this lofty promise of achdut, a connected peoplehood.
Rabbi Gedalia Potash is the director of San Francisco’s Chabad of Noe Valley, a position he has held since 2000.
Rabbi Jonathan Jaffe is an assistant rabbi at Congregation Emanu-El in San Francisco, a position he has held for 18 months.
Showing posts with label San Francisco. Show all posts
Showing posts with label San Francisco. Show all posts
Thursday, January 08, 2009
Monday, December 15, 2008
Menorah's lighting carries on legendary music man's legacy
Legendary concert promoter Bill Graham made his mark in the Bay Area by establishing several of The City’s benchmark music venues — including the Fillmore and Warfield — while maintaining nearly as high a profile as the acts he filled them with.
A legacy of Graham’s that endures today, however, started from an act of goodwill in which he was uncharacteristically camera shy.
In 1975, Graham, who as a young child was a refugee from Nazi Germany, approached several well-known Jewish religious leaders and inquired about the possibility of staging a public lighting of the menorah, a Jewish symbol that marks the eight holy days of Hanukkah.
Among those Jewish leaders was Rabbi Yosef Langer, then a man in his 20s who leapt at the idea of bringing the menorah to the masses.
With Graham’s financial backing, Langer and others were able to erect and light a 22-foot-tall menorah in Union Square — the first public display of its kind outside Israel.
“Bill was looking for something to take the spirit of Judaism out to the marketplace,” Langer said. “We organized everything because he didn’t want to be very open with his Jewishness. But without him, none of this would have been possible.”
Although Graham, who died in a helicopter crash in 1991, rarely made any formal public appearances at the lighting ceremonies, he always made an effort to slip in and check things out, Langer said.
“I remember one year where I didn’t see Bill,” Langer said. “It was cold, raining, and after a while it was just me, the seagulls and the homeless. Then, he showed up at the very end and gave me a smile. It was very important to him.”
With Graham gone, Langer is now the chief organizer of the event, which is funded by private donors and draws thousands of people each year. Even though the flamboyant music aficionado is gone, Graham’s spirit lives on with each year that the menorah is lit, Langer said.
“He was a very unique individual,” said Langer. “He believed in the universal symbol of the menorah. It’s the message that a little light pushes out the darkness.”
— Will Reisman
Rabbi Yosef Langer
Age: 62
Birthplace: Oakland
Residence: Richmond district
Education: San Jose State, Hadar Torah/Rabbinical Seminary
Family: Wife, two sons, three daughters
Favorite books: The Lubavitcher Rebbe’s Discourses
Favorite type of music: Jewish hip-hop, reggae
Favorite sports team: San Francisco Giants
Hobbies: Golf
Favorite thing about the Bay Area: The openness of the people
What he wants to be remembered for: “To fulfill the purpose for why I was sent here by the Lubavitcher Rebbe, while leading my service to the people with my heart.”
Role model and inspiration: The Lubavitcher Rebbe, and Rabbi Menachem Mendel Schneerson.
If you go
What: Annual lighting of the menorah
When: 3 p.m. Dec. 21
Where: Union Square
Entertainment: Isaiah and the Prophets, a Hasidic Jewish hip-hop group
Expected attendance: 3,500-4,000
1 Comments
A legacy of Graham’s that endures today, however, started from an act of goodwill in which he was uncharacteristically camera shy.
In 1975, Graham, who as a young child was a refugee from Nazi Germany, approached several well-known Jewish religious leaders and inquired about the possibility of staging a public lighting of the menorah, a Jewish symbol that marks the eight holy days of Hanukkah.
Among those Jewish leaders was Rabbi Yosef Langer, then a man in his 20s who leapt at the idea of bringing the menorah to the masses.
With Graham’s financial backing, Langer and others were able to erect and light a 22-foot-tall menorah in Union Square — the first public display of its kind outside Israel.
“Bill was looking for something to take the spirit of Judaism out to the marketplace,” Langer said. “We organized everything because he didn’t want to be very open with his Jewishness. But without him, none of this would have been possible.”
Although Graham, who died in a helicopter crash in 1991, rarely made any formal public appearances at the lighting ceremonies, he always made an effort to slip in and check things out, Langer said.
“I remember one year where I didn’t see Bill,” Langer said. “It was cold, raining, and after a while it was just me, the seagulls and the homeless. Then, he showed up at the very end and gave me a smile. It was very important to him.”
With Graham gone, Langer is now the chief organizer of the event, which is funded by private donors and draws thousands of people each year. Even though the flamboyant music aficionado is gone, Graham’s spirit lives on with each year that the menorah is lit, Langer said.
“He was a very unique individual,” said Langer. “He believed in the universal symbol of the menorah. It’s the message that a little light pushes out the darkness.”
— Will Reisman
Rabbi Yosef Langer
Age: 62
Birthplace: Oakland
Residence: Richmond district
Education: San Jose State, Hadar Torah/Rabbinical Seminary
Family: Wife, two sons, three daughters
Favorite books: The Lubavitcher Rebbe’s Discourses
Favorite type of music: Jewish hip-hop, reggae
Favorite sports team: San Francisco Giants
Hobbies: Golf
Favorite thing about the Bay Area: The openness of the people
What he wants to be remembered for: “To fulfill the purpose for why I was sent here by the Lubavitcher Rebbe, while leading my service to the people with my heart.”
Role model and inspiration: The Lubavitcher Rebbe, and Rabbi Menachem Mendel Schneerson.
If you go
What: Annual lighting of the menorah
When: 3 p.m. Dec. 21
Where: Union Square
Entertainment: Isaiah and the Prophets, a Hasidic Jewish hip-hop group
Expected attendance: 3,500-4,000
1 Comments
Rabbi Yosef Langer rides on his own philosophy
SAN FRANCISCO – He sports a long, flowing beard, his transportation method of choice is a motorcycle, he counts among friends rock star Perry Farrell, and he was a regular attendee of Grateful Dead concerts.
Yes, Yosef Langer meets all the requirements of your typical, grizzled ex-roadie, but the 62-year-old’s real day job is as a rabbi. He’s also one of the Bay Area’s most visible — and unconventional — religious leaders.
A Bay Area native, Langer has been a tireless local advocate for Judaism by bringing his message to the most diverse arenas — including San Francisco Giants baseball games, music festivals and on The City’s famous cable cars — with an infectious approach that proves he has no intent to slow down, even after three decades in the field.
A product of the 1960s counterculture movement, Langer was raised in Oakland and originally sought a career as a merchant seaman. While traveling abroad, his contemporaries explored many hedonistic outlets — their “holy land” was South America, where beautiful women and contraband were easily accessible, according to the rabbi — but Langer pined for something more spiritual and meaningful.
Delving first into biblical studies, yoga and macrobiotics, Langer eventually chose to pursue his roots by studying Chabad-Lubavitch, a form of Orthodox Judaism that preaches wisdom, understanding and knowledge.
By 1975, Langer had founded a Chabad house of teaching in Berkeley — the second of its kind in the United States — and by 1979 he expanded to San Francisco.
It was during this time of continual religious awakening that Langer acquired his trademark set of wheels, courtesy of a unique transaction.
Stationed outside a Grateful Dead concert at the Shoreline Amphitheatre — where he was handing out apples as a way to create awareness about Rosh Hashanah, the Jewish New Year — Langer ran into an old friend from Los Angeles.
Knowing his friend was wealthy, Langer asked him if he would donate a vehicle to the Chabad house for outreach purposes.
“I said I was looking for a ‘mitzvah mobile,’” said Langer, referring to the Hebrew word for good deed. “This guy told me he’d give me a ‘mitzvah mo-bike.’ I’ve been riding that motorcycle ever since.”
Using his motorcycle to spread the word, Langer quickly helped the Chabad movement grow in the Bay Area, with new locations sprouting up in Marin County and in Noe Valley in The City.
Not content to merely canvas the streets with his two-wheeler, Langer took to more alternative means to reach his audience, including operating a San Francisco cable car to give Jewish-themed tours of San Francisco, and establishing “Purimpalooza,” an annual music festival that has featured the likes of the aforementioned Farrell and Matisyahu, a Hasidic Jewish rapper.
Though superficially these acts may seem like simple promotional tools for his religious agenda, Langer has a deep concern for people of all backgrounds, according to Peter Dwares, a San Francisco entrepreneur and real estate expert who has known the rabbi for more than 25 years.
“First and foremost, he is a human being who cares for everybody,” Dwares said. “He is a rabbi, but his real work is with the people who need help the most. There are no religious boundaries.”
Dwares points to Chabad’s emphasis on helping low-income residents and recovering drug addicts as the true basis for Langer’s mission.
Combining secular interests with religious sympathies is what makes Langer so approachable, said Craig Solomon, a ticket sales executive with the Giants.
After returning from a trip to Israel in 1995, Solomon attended a service with Langer and immediately became hooked on the rabbi’s philosophy.
“I’ll never forget it. I went to a Friday night Shabbat service with Rabbi Langer,” said Solomon, “and he spoke at length about Jerry Garcia. I knew right then that this was the guy for me.”
In 2006, the two met up again, this time after Solomon suggested that Langer blow the shofar — a ram’s horn that is used as a signaling trumpet in the Jewish religion — behind home plate during the third inning of the Giants’ annual Jewish Heritage Night at AT&T Park.
Langer agreed to the premise and blew the horn to such immense fan appreciation that three innings later he was out behind home plate again. The Giants lost that night, but club officials deemed Langer the “Rally Rabbi” — and soon thereafter issued their own special rabbi bobblehead doll giveaway at the park.
“You know, I actually like the name, because rallying is what I do,” Langer said. “It’s all about outreach and trying to bring something special to the world.”
Yes, Yosef Langer meets all the requirements of your typical, grizzled ex-roadie, but the 62-year-old’s real day job is as a rabbi. He’s also one of the Bay Area’s most visible — and unconventional — religious leaders.
A Bay Area native, Langer has been a tireless local advocate for Judaism by bringing his message to the most diverse arenas — including San Francisco Giants baseball games, music festivals and on The City’s famous cable cars — with an infectious approach that proves he has no intent to slow down, even after three decades in the field.
A product of the 1960s counterculture movement, Langer was raised in Oakland and originally sought a career as a merchant seaman. While traveling abroad, his contemporaries explored many hedonistic outlets — their “holy land” was South America, where beautiful women and contraband were easily accessible, according to the rabbi — but Langer pined for something more spiritual and meaningful.
Delving first into biblical studies, yoga and macrobiotics, Langer eventually chose to pursue his roots by studying Chabad-Lubavitch, a form of Orthodox Judaism that preaches wisdom, understanding and knowledge.
By 1975, Langer had founded a Chabad house of teaching in Berkeley — the second of its kind in the United States — and by 1979 he expanded to San Francisco.
It was during this time of continual religious awakening that Langer acquired his trademark set of wheels, courtesy of a unique transaction.
Stationed outside a Grateful Dead concert at the Shoreline Amphitheatre — where he was handing out apples as a way to create awareness about Rosh Hashanah, the Jewish New Year — Langer ran into an old friend from Los Angeles.
Knowing his friend was wealthy, Langer asked him if he would donate a vehicle to the Chabad house for outreach purposes.
“I said I was looking for a ‘mitzvah mobile,’” said Langer, referring to the Hebrew word for good deed. “This guy told me he’d give me a ‘mitzvah mo-bike.’ I’ve been riding that motorcycle ever since.”
Using his motorcycle to spread the word, Langer quickly helped the Chabad movement grow in the Bay Area, with new locations sprouting up in Marin County and in Noe Valley in The City.
Not content to merely canvas the streets with his two-wheeler, Langer took to more alternative means to reach his audience, including operating a San Francisco cable car to give Jewish-themed tours of San Francisco, and establishing “Purimpalooza,” an annual music festival that has featured the likes of the aforementioned Farrell and Matisyahu, a Hasidic Jewish rapper.
Though superficially these acts may seem like simple promotional tools for his religious agenda, Langer has a deep concern for people of all backgrounds, according to Peter Dwares, a San Francisco entrepreneur and real estate expert who has known the rabbi for more than 25 years.
“First and foremost, he is a human being who cares for everybody,” Dwares said. “He is a rabbi, but his real work is with the people who need help the most. There are no religious boundaries.”
Dwares points to Chabad’s emphasis on helping low-income residents and recovering drug addicts as the true basis for Langer’s mission.
Combining secular interests with religious sympathies is what makes Langer so approachable, said Craig Solomon, a ticket sales executive with the Giants.
After returning from a trip to Israel in 1995, Solomon attended a service with Langer and immediately became hooked on the rabbi’s philosophy.
“I’ll never forget it. I went to a Friday night Shabbat service with Rabbi Langer,” said Solomon, “and he spoke at length about Jerry Garcia. I knew right then that this was the guy for me.”
In 2006, the two met up again, this time after Solomon suggested that Langer blow the shofar — a ram’s horn that is used as a signaling trumpet in the Jewish religion — behind home plate during the third inning of the Giants’ annual Jewish Heritage Night at AT&T Park.
Langer agreed to the premise and blew the horn to such immense fan appreciation that three innings later he was out behind home plate again. The Giants lost that night, but club officials deemed Langer the “Rally Rabbi” — and soon thereafter issued their own special rabbi bobblehead doll giveaway at the park.
“You know, I actually like the name, because rallying is what I do,” Langer said. “It’s all about outreach and trying to bring something special to the world.”
Rally Rabbi Brings The High, Hard Chabad To Giants Fans
Great story in the San Francisco Examiner Sunday on bearded, motorcycle-riding holy man Yosef Langer, better known to San Francisco Giants fans as the Rally Rabbi.
My favorite Jewish Orthodox baseball fan will be presiding over the annual lighting of the menorah on Sunday at 3 p.m. at Union Square in San Francisco, if you'd like to stop by and see if he has any plans to intercede this season on behalf of that mensch, Barry Zito.
Langer's been a fixture in the Bay Area since he founded a Chabad house of teaching in Berkeley in 1975. He began bringing the word of God to sports fans at Golden State Warriors and San Francisco Giants games just recently. Craig Solomon, a ticket sales executive with the Giants, first met him in 2005 after a trip to Israel.
In 2006, the two met up again, this time after Solomon suggested that Langer blow the shofar — a ram’s horn that is used as a signaling trumpet in the Jewish religion — behind home plate during the third inning of the Giants’ annual Jewish Heritage Night at AT&T Park.
Langer agreed to the premise and blew the horn to such immense fan appreciation that three innings later he was out behind home plate again. The Giants lost that night, but club officials deemed Langer the “Rally Rabbi” — and soon thereafter issued their own special rabbi bobblehead doll giveaway at the park.
He's the only rabbi I know who wears a Giants logo on his hat and an orange Star of David. He is also often followed by Rabbi Yehuda Ferris, who is lead singer of the Ferris Wheels, shown here performing outside of AT&T Park. Be sure to watch the the end, to see the Yidd’n dance.
That's Sunday at Union Sqaure. Be there or be a nebbish.
My favorite Jewish Orthodox baseball fan will be presiding over the annual lighting of the menorah on Sunday at 3 p.m. at Union Square in San Francisco, if you'd like to stop by and see if he has any plans to intercede this season on behalf of that mensch, Barry Zito.
Langer's been a fixture in the Bay Area since he founded a Chabad house of teaching in Berkeley in 1975. He began bringing the word of God to sports fans at Golden State Warriors and San Francisco Giants games just recently. Craig Solomon, a ticket sales executive with the Giants, first met him in 2005 after a trip to Israel.
In 2006, the two met up again, this time after Solomon suggested that Langer blow the shofar — a ram’s horn that is used as a signaling trumpet in the Jewish religion — behind home plate during the third inning of the Giants’ annual Jewish Heritage Night at AT&T Park.
Langer agreed to the premise and blew the horn to such immense fan appreciation that three innings later he was out behind home plate again. The Giants lost that night, but club officials deemed Langer the “Rally Rabbi” — and soon thereafter issued their own special rabbi bobblehead doll giveaway at the park.
He's the only rabbi I know who wears a Giants logo on his hat and an orange Star of David. He is also often followed by Rabbi Yehuda Ferris, who is lead singer of the Ferris Wheels, shown here performing outside of AT&T Park. Be sure to watch the the end, to see the Yidd’n dance.
That's Sunday at Union Sqaure. Be there or be a nebbish.
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