I recently "found" a book that's been on my bookshelf for years but that I've never "made" time to read. Forty pages into Richard Rorty's, Contingency, irony, and solidarity, my only regret is that I didn't read it years ago when I purchased it. I'm consoled by the profound joy of reading it now. As I read I carry with me the wonderful memory of studying with Rorty as an undergraduate. I can vividly picture his always purple button down shirt (worn to each class) and can hear the sound of change jingling in his pocket-- an unconscious habit that contrasted humorously with his intensely brilliant lecturing. This book is one of those books that, by the time I'm done with it, will be mostly highlighted. This means one of two things: 1) I don't know how to highlight or, 2) it's absolutely brilliant. Among the many highlighted passages there's one that stands out to me at this exact moment as I think about the nature of liberal Judaism in the world today.
In describing Nietzche's contribution to a postmodern understanding of the contingency of selfhood, Rorty writes, "They [certain philosophers that Rorty praises] accept Nietzche's identification of the strong poet, the maker, as humanity's hero-- rather than the scientist, who is traditionally pictured as a finder" (Rorty, 1989, p. 24).
The maker categorically rejects the temptation to inherit. She resists the temptation to define herself using someone else's language. She refuses to copy, to adopt, and to conform. She'd rather be a misunderstood or failed metaphor than an already dead metaphor. Novelty is her aspiration, redefinition and redescription are her aims. She strives, she smashes idols, and is relentless in her pursuit of new language to describe her selfhood and her place in the world. Unavailable to her are all previous attempts at articulating meaning-- religion, philosophy, theology, metaphysics, science. If it's been done then it cannot be made, only remade, remixed, reiterated. The maker's task is to do something new.
The finder seeks patterns, looks for evidence that will help evolve theory into law. She isn't necessarily a metaphysician, priest, or positivist, but she isn't emphatically opposed to the idea of inherited wisdom. She remains open to the possibility that meaning is "out there" and that wisdom can be sought, heard, and integrated into the tapestry of her life.
If liberal Judaism and Judaism generally is to survive then we need both makers and finders.
Judaism is fairly comfortable with finders. Our tradition teaches, hafoch bah d'chuleh bah ("turn the Torah over and over for everything is within it). Clearly the finder's orientation sits comfortably within the paramaters of the Jewish hermeneutical tradition. When it comes to makers Judaism is decidedly more ambivalent, even antagonistic. Hadash asur min ha-Torah ("innovation is prohibited by the Torah")-- a famous teaching of the Chatam Sofer (18th-19th century rabbi) the 18th-19th conveys this antagonism. Given Judaism's enduring commitment to Torah and the rich traditions associated with Jewish history and practice, the question of how to embrace "makers" is both sincere and significant.
The most obvious way of incorporating makers into the Jewish story is to point out that they've always been there. The three Moses'-- Moshe Rabbenu, Moses Maimonides (Rambam), and Moses Mendelssohn (the great Enlightenment philosopher) come to mind. More recently, the work of Jewish feminists such as Rachel Adler also come to mind, as does the work of GLBT oriented rabbis like Rabbi Josh Lesser of Congregation Bet Haverim in Atlanta, GA (where I live and work). I'd like to think that the album of original Jewish music I'm currently recording and producing is an example of "making." In other words, there's no shortage of "makers" in the context of Jewish history.
Another way of thinking about the role of "making" in Judaism stems from the traditional idea of Midrash. Midrash comes from the Hebrew root doresh which means "to seek." Finding and making are two different and complimentary ways of seeking, of doing midrash. The finders task is analytical-- she scrutinizes, reviews, deciphers, and unpacks. The makers task is constructive-- building, innovating, and creating. The finder uses a microscope and the maker uses a telescope. The finder understands that interpretation is a never ending process. The maker understands that vision and novelty are the guarantors that the Jewish future is even more vibrant than the past.
There's much more that could be said about makers and finders. We'll leave it here for now with the intent of returning to explore the dialectical relationship with fresh eyes sometime in the future.
Tuesday, November 22, 2011
Science Fiction Torah
"'Is it possible for me to understand?'
'Oh, yes. Many could understand it. What people do with understanding is a different matter.'
'Will you teach me what to do?'
'You already know.'"
-Frank Herbert, God Emperor of Dune
As a side note I must recommend the first four books of the Dune series to anyone who is even remotely what one might call a "sci-fi" buff. Of course if you read any science fiction then you already know what I'm talking about. For the uninitiated, there's nothing quite like reading Dune. The fourth book, which is quoted above, has as its protagonist (possibly villian, I'm not quite done reading it) none other than (a/the) God. I'm sitting here trying to think of any books besides Dune and the Bible for which this is the case. Forget science fiction, if you're interested in religion, theology, or philosophy it's a must read.
I'm not going to bother trying to contextualize the passage from the book. Instead, I want to appropriate it, as it's a useful frame for thinking about education in general and Jewish education in particular.
1. "Is it possible for me to understand?" The last thing I want to do is strip Judaism of its nuances, complexities, paradoxes, and mystery. At the same time, more of us need to embrace the Deuteronomic concept of lo bashamayim hee (lit: "it is not in heavens..."). Judaism is a here and now faith. It's a religion of "whatcha gonna do next." It's a "what are you waiting for" way of living each day. Judaism is all about empowerment. There's no limit to how much you can learn or how masterful your command of tradition can be-- and that's empowering. At the same time, there's a lot you can do with even the slightest motivation-- this too is empowering. And while there's a lot of levels of understanding it is emphatically, undeniably, 100% possible to understand.
2. "What people do with understanding is a different matter." The Hebrew word for understanding is havanah. The Hebrew word for intention is cavanah. While these words sound the same, and are transliterated into English using many of the same letters beware-- they are in fact different concepts. Havanah and canavah are not always mutually reinforcing concepts. There are many things that many people understand. However our actions are more less likely to be driven by our havanah than our cavanah. Understanding is critically important, especially given our unique nature as rational beings. But cavanah will always play a more fundamental role in determining how we live each moment. As Jews we are committed to havanah and cavanah. Let us pray for the wisdom to unite these two ways of knowing so that we may live lives of purposeful conduct.
3. "Will you teach me what to do?" There's a lot of wisdom floating around out there about the nature of education and how learning occurs. One area of profound consensus is that the openness to learning and the hunger to learn are preconditions for meaningful and transformative development to occur. As educators our role is twofold in this regard: 1) to kindle, or at least keep alive, the innate flame within every person that yearns to know, understand, learn and grow, and 2) to honor the student who comes to us with this question. If we can rise to the occasion of this question guiding our students beyond what they currently can do to that which they are capable of doing with our care, guidance, and teaching, then we're doing sacred work.
4. "You already know." While learning is about journeying into foreign lands, both literally and metaphorically, it's also about coming home. The wisdom we encounter in the world around us often resides within us as well. Creation is our mirror, showing us something that we can grasp because we are a part of it, and it is already within us, or least the capacity to grasp is already within us. While our students will surely grow weary if the response to every earnest question is "You already know" they will more quickly learn to draw on the vast resources that constitute their innate humanity if we lovingly throw the ball back into their court every now and again.
Saturday, November 19, 2011
Cultivating a Spiritual Life
Lately I've been thinking and reading about spiritual growth. I've been thinking about it primarily in the context of my work as a Jewish educator with a focus on early adolescent spiritual growth. Thus far my thinking has been all about questions. What do people mean (what do I mean) by spiritual growth? What exactly is it that does the growing or developing? How does the spirit develop? Does the spirit develop in ways that can be assessed, studied, and replicated? What sociocultural "tools" (in the Marxist/Vygotskian/ Geertzian sense of the term) promote spiritual growth? What role do educators play in promoting spiritual growth for early adolescents? How can educators be most efficacious in terms of promoting spiritual growth for early adolescents? What kinds of educative experiences impact the spiritual lives of early adolescents? What milieus in the Jewish world today are most well-suited to support adolescent spiritual development? What specifically Jewish cultural tools can be resources for promoting spiritual growth in adolescents (i.e. tefilah, Hebrew language, Torah study, Israel experiences, summer camp, Jewish day school education, synagogues, youth groups, tikkun olam projects)?
Obviously I'm starting from the assumption that spiritual development is important-- for children, adolescents, and adults. I'm also assuming that spirituality is something that can be learned, transmitted, and acquired and that adults (educators in particular) have a responsibility to support and challenge young people to grow spiritually and not only cognitively, emotionally, and physically. In terms of Judaism I'm assuming that spiritual growth is part of living a vibrant Jewish life-- that is to say that Judaism condones and values spirituality and that spirituality can be achieved within the cultural framework of Judaism (as opposed to arguing that spirituality and religiosity are somehow at odds with one another).
I know that there are lots of great people out there who are working on the question of adolescent spirituality both within and beyond the Jewish community. I also know that a better understanding of this issue would help educators (would help me ) feel like I could assess whether my efforts and those of my colleagues are on the right track in terms of promoting spiritual growth for the young people that I have the honor and joy of educating in my capacity as a teacher and rabbi. If you've read this far and can think of people I should reach out to, please share their contact information or encourage them to reach out to mlapidus@davisacademy.org.
Obviously I'm starting from the assumption that spiritual development is important-- for children, adolescents, and adults. I'm also assuming that spirituality is something that can be learned, transmitted, and acquired and that adults (educators in particular) have a responsibility to support and challenge young people to grow spiritually and not only cognitively, emotionally, and physically. In terms of Judaism I'm assuming that spiritual growth is part of living a vibrant Jewish life-- that is to say that Judaism condones and values spirituality and that spirituality can be achieved within the cultural framework of Judaism (as opposed to arguing that spirituality and religiosity are somehow at odds with one another).
I know that there are lots of great people out there who are working on the question of adolescent spirituality both within and beyond the Jewish community. I also know that a better understanding of this issue would help educators (would help me ) feel like I could assess whether my efforts and those of my colleagues are on the right track in terms of promoting spiritual growth for the young people that I have the honor and joy of educating in my capacity as a teacher and rabbi. If you've read this far and can think of people I should reach out to, please share their contact information or encourage them to reach out to mlapidus@davisacademy.org.
Tuesday, September 13, 2011
Day School Investment: It Means Much More than You Think
“They pretended to take the stuff down from the loom; they made cuts in the air with great scissors; they sewed with needles without thread; and at last they said, “Now the clothes are ready!”—Hans Christian Anderson, “The Emperor’s New Clothes”
“She is clothed with strength and splendor; she looks to the future cheerfully.”—Proverbs 31:25
What does it mean to “invest” in our Jewish day schools? Don’t worry, I’m not asking you to take out your checkbook… I just want us to think seriously about the word “investment.” I hope you’ll agree that investing in our Jewish day schools is an idea that the entire community can, and should, wholeheartedly support. It’s my belief that Jewish day schools are critical institutions on the landscape of Jewish life and that Jews and non-Jews alike will receive high yields when they invest in Jewish day schools.
Here’s the punch line:
We must invest in our local Jewish day schools because they’re the real deal and we can’t afford not to.
The setup:
1. Latin Detour. The word “Investment” wasn’t always about economics. As important as financial contributions, annual funds, and capital campaigns are to the life of our Jewish day schools, thinking of investment only in these terms entails a profound distortion of what investment was originally all about. Investment comes from the Latin investire which means “to clothe, surround.” Investment means: putting on the vest.
2. Elisha and Elijah. Investing in our Jewish day schools means “taking up the mantle” (2 Kings 2:13). When Elijah’s mantle (cape-like garment) fell, Elisha literally picked it up. As a modern idiom it means something like “assuming responsibility/ taking on a leadership role.” For our purposes, “taking up the mantle” and “investing” are related concepts. We invest, not only through our dollars, but by taking up the mantle of our Jewish day schools and metaphorically clothing ourselves in them.
3. Hans Christian Anderson. What a great storyteller! And what a telling story! I don’t know about you, but I get enough junk mail in a day to last me a lifetime. I’ve shred more fake credit cards and blank checks than I can count. It seems like everywhere I look there are invitations to invest in something. It’s almost always something I don’t need. Too often it’s something fake, illusory, or misleading.
4. Eishet Chayil. Jewish day schools are the “women of valor” of Jewish institutional life. A far cry from Anderson’s in-the-buff Emperor, they are clothed with strength and splendor and we need to keep them that way. In large part because of our Jewish day schools, the Jewish people can look to the future—not as though we’re still Simon Rawidowicz’s “ever-dying people,” but rather with a sense of optimism and cheer. The next generation of Jewish leaders is singing birkat hamazon before hitting the playground right now.
5. Technicolor Culture. Not only are Jewish day schools the eishet chayil of Jewish institutional life, but they are a majestic thread in the katonet passim (Genesis 37:3), Joseph’s “ornamented coat” of Jewish institutional life. Jewish day schools celebrate Jewish diversity, pluralism, Hebrew language, sacred study, secular study, Israel and Zionism, the study and practice of tefilah, tzedakah, tikkun olam, Jewish art, music and dance, Jewish athletics, and Jewish culture. They attract outstanding educators and motivated students. The engage children, parents, and grandparents, clothing families in the fabrics of Judaism. They can and do play a critical role in all of the communities that are fortunate enough to sustain (invest) them. Every year, The Davis Academy, where I work, sends 70 8th graders to Israel for a life-changing experience. Were it not for our Jewish day schools, many young Jews would be denied this formative experience, which, by the way, includes the purchasing of hundreds of pieces of Israeli clothing.
6. DIY. We invest in our local Jewish day schools by: (1) visiting; (2) advocating; (3) supporting; (4) promoting; (5) contributing; (6) enrolling your children and grandchildren; (7) caring; (8) loving; (9) knowing; (10) sharing; (11) friending; (12) following; (13) tweeting; (14) blogging; (15) celebrating; (16) championing; (17) affiliating; (18) doing. Jewish day schools need our money. They deserve our money. But what our Jewish day schools really need is for us (punch line) to take up the mantle and invest.
“She is clothed with strength and splendor; she looks to the future cheerfully.”—Proverbs 31:25
What does it mean to “invest” in our Jewish day schools? Don’t worry, I’m not asking you to take out your checkbook… I just want us to think seriously about the word “investment.” I hope you’ll agree that investing in our Jewish day schools is an idea that the entire community can, and should, wholeheartedly support. It’s my belief that Jewish day schools are critical institutions on the landscape of Jewish life and that Jews and non-Jews alike will receive high yields when they invest in Jewish day schools.
Here’s the punch line:
We must invest in our local Jewish day schools because they’re the real deal and we can’t afford not to.
The setup:
1. Latin Detour. The word “Investment” wasn’t always about economics. As important as financial contributions, annual funds, and capital campaigns are to the life of our Jewish day schools, thinking of investment only in these terms entails a profound distortion of what investment was originally all about. Investment comes from the Latin investire which means “to clothe, surround.” Investment means: putting on the vest.
2. Elisha and Elijah. Investing in our Jewish day schools means “taking up the mantle” (2 Kings 2:13). When Elijah’s mantle (cape-like garment) fell, Elisha literally picked it up. As a modern idiom it means something like “assuming responsibility/ taking on a leadership role.” For our purposes, “taking up the mantle” and “investing” are related concepts. We invest, not only through our dollars, but by taking up the mantle of our Jewish day schools and metaphorically clothing ourselves in them.
3. Hans Christian Anderson. What a great storyteller! And what a telling story! I don’t know about you, but I get enough junk mail in a day to last me a lifetime. I’ve shred more fake credit cards and blank checks than I can count. It seems like everywhere I look there are invitations to invest in something. It’s almost always something I don’t need. Too often it’s something fake, illusory, or misleading.
4. Eishet Chayil. Jewish day schools are the “women of valor” of Jewish institutional life. A far cry from Anderson’s in-the-buff Emperor, they are clothed with strength and splendor and we need to keep them that way. In large part because of our Jewish day schools, the Jewish people can look to the future—not as though we’re still Simon Rawidowicz’s “ever-dying people,” but rather with a sense of optimism and cheer. The next generation of Jewish leaders is singing birkat hamazon before hitting the playground right now.
5. Technicolor Culture. Not only are Jewish day schools the eishet chayil of Jewish institutional life, but they are a majestic thread in the katonet passim (Genesis 37:3), Joseph’s “ornamented coat” of Jewish institutional life. Jewish day schools celebrate Jewish diversity, pluralism, Hebrew language, sacred study, secular study, Israel and Zionism, the study and practice of tefilah, tzedakah, tikkun olam, Jewish art, music and dance, Jewish athletics, and Jewish culture. They attract outstanding educators and motivated students. The engage children, parents, and grandparents, clothing families in the fabrics of Judaism. They can and do play a critical role in all of the communities that are fortunate enough to sustain (invest) them. Every year, The Davis Academy, where I work, sends 70 8th graders to Israel for a life-changing experience. Were it not for our Jewish day schools, many young Jews would be denied this formative experience, which, by the way, includes the purchasing of hundreds of pieces of Israeli clothing.
6. DIY. We invest in our local Jewish day schools by: (1) visiting; (2) advocating; (3) supporting; (4) promoting; (5) contributing; (6) enrolling your children and grandchildren; (7) caring; (8) loving; (9) knowing; (10) sharing; (11) friending; (12) following; (13) tweeting; (14) blogging; (15) celebrating; (16) championing; (17) affiliating; (18) doing. Jewish day schools need our money. They deserve our money. But what our Jewish day schools really need is for us (punch line) to take up the mantle and invest.
Monday, August 22, 2011
Why Jewish Day Schools are Unique
Down here in Atlanta, GA many of us have just finished our first week of the 2011-2012 school year. It's a good time to pause and reflect on what makes Jewish day schools like The Davis Academy unique and exceptional. I recognize that this post is going to read like a love letter (or a brag) but I think it's important to put some of this stuff out there for folks that might not know! This isn't a comprehensive list by a long shot, it's more of a starting line. So feel free to run with it.
1. Jewish Time. Jewish day schools are the only institutions outside the State of Israel that allow families to live the rhythms of the Jewish calendar. Unlike public schools or non-denominational independent schools which typically do not acknowledge major Jewish holidays, let alone minor Jewish holidays, Jewish day schools, due to our adherence to the Jewish calendar, help families explore the Jewish calendar by carving out sacred time for holidays like Sukkot, Pesach and Shavuot. While this makes Tishrei pedagogically challenging due to "swiss cheese" school weeks, it's important to recognize that Jewish day schools are unique and exceptional because they fully honor the Jewish calendar and empower families to do the same.
2. Learning Community. One of the greatest misconceptions about schooling generally and Jewish day school in particular is that 'school is for kids.' Every dynamic Jewish K-12 learning institution understands that, while our primary mission is to educate children, we also educate parents, grandparents, faculty and staff. At The Davis Academy and at many other Jewish day schools, the learning relationship, particularly when it comes to matters of spirituality, Jewish practice, and Torah study, is reciprocal. Students learn from teachers, but teachers also learn from the insights and questions of students. Parents who've made the investment in Jewish day school know that, while they will always have invaluable lessons to impart to their children, there will be times when their children are the ones who do the teaching. This is primarily because of the immersive Jewish environments that day schools represent (including the rigorous exposure to Hebrew and Jewish studies). It's unique and exceptional to be a part of a community where all constituencies are learning from one another and where all constituencies feel empowered to teach. The sense of kavod and hokhmah can be truly overwhelming.
3. Community of Practice. Fact: Jewish day schools "see" their congregants (students) more in a given week than many other organizations see their congregants in a month or even a year. The sheer intensity of Jewish day school means that issues of Jewish practice are constantly being discussed and explored. What does kashrut look like for a Reform Jewish day school with many families that come from a more "observant" background? What does kashrut look like on school trips? How do we practice Judaism on school trips? What siddur do we use for weekly tefilah? Why? What tefilot do we recite on a regular basis? When are they taught? How do we engage non-Jewish faculty or parents in the Jewish soul of our school? What, if any, are the boundaries to this engagement? What definition of Jewishness guides our admissions policy? How often do we daven? For how long? What guidelines do we offer families for bnei mitzvah celebration when there are 70-80 bnei mitzvah in a given year? How do we handle the issue of birthday parties on Shabbat? How does the existence of our school positively impact the overall Jewish and non-Jewish community in our city?
At a Jewish day school, these questions and those like them, are being discussed, debated, and put into practice every day. Parents, students, teachers, administrators, community rabbis, and other day school colleagues are all a part of this conversation. It's amazing to be a part of a Jewish day school where the asking and answering of these questions is directly impacting the Jewish future.
4. Tikkun Olam. Many Jewish organizations do amazing work in the realm of tzedakah and social justice. Even so, Jewish day schools are unique and exceptional. At Jewish day schools tzedakah and tikkun olam are integrated into both Jewish and general studies curricula. Changing the world isn't something that is done during specially dedicated times, it's something that is done regularly and consistently. Just as students learn math, science, and Hebrew, so too they learn the importance of making the world a better place. Perhaps most importantly they learn that their practice of tzedakah and tikkun olam is as critical to their overall intellectual and spiritual development as anything else they do. Only Jewish day schools have the ability to achieve this full integration of social action into the school experience.
5. Your thoughts here.
Thank You and Shalom,
Micah
1. Jewish Time. Jewish day schools are the only institutions outside the State of Israel that allow families to live the rhythms of the Jewish calendar. Unlike public schools or non-denominational independent schools which typically do not acknowledge major Jewish holidays, let alone minor Jewish holidays, Jewish day schools, due to our adherence to the Jewish calendar, help families explore the Jewish calendar by carving out sacred time for holidays like Sukkot, Pesach and Shavuot. While this makes Tishrei pedagogically challenging due to "swiss cheese" school weeks, it's important to recognize that Jewish day schools are unique and exceptional because they fully honor the Jewish calendar and empower families to do the same.
2. Learning Community. One of the greatest misconceptions about schooling generally and Jewish day school in particular is that 'school is for kids.' Every dynamic Jewish K-12 learning institution understands that, while our primary mission is to educate children, we also educate parents, grandparents, faculty and staff. At The Davis Academy and at many other Jewish day schools, the learning relationship, particularly when it comes to matters of spirituality, Jewish practice, and Torah study, is reciprocal. Students learn from teachers, but teachers also learn from the insights and questions of students. Parents who've made the investment in Jewish day school know that, while they will always have invaluable lessons to impart to their children, there will be times when their children are the ones who do the teaching. This is primarily because of the immersive Jewish environments that day schools represent (including the rigorous exposure to Hebrew and Jewish studies). It's unique and exceptional to be a part of a community where all constituencies are learning from one another and where all constituencies feel empowered to teach. The sense of kavod and hokhmah can be truly overwhelming.
3. Community of Practice. Fact: Jewish day schools "see" their congregants (students) more in a given week than many other organizations see their congregants in a month or even a year. The sheer intensity of Jewish day school means that issues of Jewish practice are constantly being discussed and explored. What does kashrut look like for a Reform Jewish day school with many families that come from a more "observant" background? What does kashrut look like on school trips? How do we practice Judaism on school trips? What siddur do we use for weekly tefilah? Why? What tefilot do we recite on a regular basis? When are they taught? How do we engage non-Jewish faculty or parents in the Jewish soul of our school? What, if any, are the boundaries to this engagement? What definition of Jewishness guides our admissions policy? How often do we daven? For how long? What guidelines do we offer families for bnei mitzvah celebration when there are 70-80 bnei mitzvah in a given year? How do we handle the issue of birthday parties on Shabbat? How does the existence of our school positively impact the overall Jewish and non-Jewish community in our city?
At a Jewish day school, these questions and those like them, are being discussed, debated, and put into practice every day. Parents, students, teachers, administrators, community rabbis, and other day school colleagues are all a part of this conversation. It's amazing to be a part of a Jewish day school where the asking and answering of these questions is directly impacting the Jewish future.
4. Tikkun Olam. Many Jewish organizations do amazing work in the realm of tzedakah and social justice. Even so, Jewish day schools are unique and exceptional. At Jewish day schools tzedakah and tikkun olam are integrated into both Jewish and general studies curricula. Changing the world isn't something that is done during specially dedicated times, it's something that is done regularly and consistently. Just as students learn math, science, and Hebrew, so too they learn the importance of making the world a better place. Perhaps most importantly they learn that their practice of tzedakah and tikkun olam is as critical to their overall intellectual and spiritual development as anything else they do. Only Jewish day schools have the ability to achieve this full integration of social action into the school experience.
5. Your thoughts here.
Thank You and Shalom,
Micah
Wednesday, July 27, 2011
Life Lessons from the Recording Studio
Context: I'm working on an album of original Jewish music. I wrote the tunes and am arranging them (i.e. giving them shape, texture, and form) with an amazingly gifted musician/producer/friend named Will Roberston as well as a cast of unbelievably talented characters including Jamie Kudlats, Guy Strauss, Bob Michek, and Kendrick Phillips. It's my first time in the recording studio in any meaningful way and I'm finding the process to be very enlightening. As is often the case, a particular venue or set of experiences ends up being a microcosm of "life in general." That's proving to be true of the recording studio. So here are a few life lessons I attribute to the recording studio... This list is totally incomplete and not in any particular order, but here goes. I'm writing this post for two reasons: 1) to chronicle my own experiences and 2) with the hopes that it will resonate with others, even if they haven't ever recorded an album of original Jewish music!
1. The power of collaboration. I wrote a bunch of tunes. Good for me. Pat on the back. But the truth is that the music could never realize its full potential (if such a thing is ever possible) without the partnership and involvement of others. My role as "songwriter" isn't to cram a fully realized musical vision down peoples' throats, but rather to elicit the creativity, generosity, talents, and energies of others. My role is to facilitate and celebrate collaboration. And though the process is still unfolding, I can say with absolute certainty that openness to collaboration has radically impacted every level of this recording project, from the songs themselves to the musicians involved. Rather than being simply about recording music, collaboration has made this project about creating music, exploring music, celebrating music, and building relationships and community through music. Collaboration has made this a holy process, which, given the content of the music, is wholly appropriate.
2. Humility. Someone once attributed the following quote to Jewish tradition in a letter I received:
If ever there were words to live by! Far from being a kind of self-abasement, true humility is the recognition that, vast though our individual gifts may be, what's ours alone is not enough. Humility is what allows us to seek out people who have greater experience than we do. It's what allows us to apprentice ourselves, to learn from others, to be grateful, and to be open-minded. Humility is the capacity to learn and the ability to celebrate (rather than fear or attempt to hide) all that you don't yet know. It also means recognizing that there are some things you may never be able to do at the level you'd like (though it doesn't mean abandoning the pursuit!). For example, humility means recognizing that a song may sound better with another lead vocalist even though it's "your" song, or that, actually, there's someone out there who can play a better guitar part. Humility is what transforms a potential inadequacy into a strength. Not only is humility an "adornment" of wisdom, but it is also a prerequisite.
3. Ego is a double-edged sword. It would be hard to write songs without an ego. It would be hard to have the nerve to believe that the songs I write with a guitar in my home when no one else is around have any value beyond being a nice hobby... without an ego. It would be hard to set aside time from my amazing family (and my 3 month old daughter in particular) to go into a recording studio to produce these songs without an ego. You get the point. And yet, as we all know, ego is truly a double-edged sword. Ego is responsible for all sorts of mishaps, musical and otherwise. Ego can be a stumbling block, it can make you blind, it can make you fearful, and it can lead you astray. Rather than ennobling you and filling your life with a sense of purpose, it can cuckold and trap you. If the songs I've written have any life whatsoever, it will be because the collaborative process has keep the question of ego in the fore. If my ego were unchecked then the songs themselves would have no room to grow, mature, and evolve. Being as conscious as possible of ego is the first step in making sure that ego works for you and not against you.
4. Music is metaphysical. "Metaphysical" is a big word and I'm not sure I fully understand it (but here goes...). For me music is metaphysical because it starts with the physical-- bodies, musical instruments, voices, guitars, etc... but quickly moves beyond the purely physical. The minute you hit record and start editing, music becomes metaphysical. Yesterday Will Roberston did an awesome thing: he wrote an entire choral arrangement and recorded it completely himself. Hearing Will's voice singing 10 different parts simultaneously helped me to understand that music is indeed metaphysical. The fact that you can detach your voice from your vocal chords and sing along with yourself x10 through the act of recording means that music is metaphysical. Also, the fact that Will can write a 10 part chorale arrangement wherein all the different parts blend and complement one another creating an absolutely magnificent and glorious soundscape-- this wouldn't be possible if there weren't laws of harmony and melody that came, if not from God, then certainly from some realm other than the purely physical. I really believe this, and feel sad for anyone that hasn't ever sensed something metaphysical (musical or otherwise). I guess that's what metaphysical means-- something is metaphysical when it attests to the fact that there's a bigger picture to the world than physical, material stuff of our existence. Music is metaphysical, so is love, community, laughter, the connection between generations, and a bunch of other stuff. Seek and ye shall find I suppose!
Well, that's all for now. I've already exceeded my self-imposed word limit. It is great writing for an "imagined audience." It provides a strangely metaphysical motivation to articulate some of these random thoughts.
1. The power of collaboration. I wrote a bunch of tunes. Good for me. Pat on the back. But the truth is that the music could never realize its full potential (if such a thing is ever possible) without the partnership and involvement of others. My role as "songwriter" isn't to cram a fully realized musical vision down peoples' throats, but rather to elicit the creativity, generosity, talents, and energies of others. My role is to facilitate and celebrate collaboration. And though the process is still unfolding, I can say with absolute certainty that openness to collaboration has radically impacted every level of this recording project, from the songs themselves to the musicians involved. Rather than being simply about recording music, collaboration has made this project about creating music, exploring music, celebrating music, and building relationships and community through music. Collaboration has made this a holy process, which, given the content of the music, is wholly appropriate.
2. Humility. Someone once attributed the following quote to Jewish tradition in a letter I received:
"The adornment of knowledge is wisdom, the adornment of wisdom is humility."
If ever there were words to live by! Far from being a kind of self-abasement, true humility is the recognition that, vast though our individual gifts may be, what's ours alone is not enough. Humility is what allows us to seek out people who have greater experience than we do. It's what allows us to apprentice ourselves, to learn from others, to be grateful, and to be open-minded. Humility is the capacity to learn and the ability to celebrate (rather than fear or attempt to hide) all that you don't yet know. It also means recognizing that there are some things you may never be able to do at the level you'd like (though it doesn't mean abandoning the pursuit!). For example, humility means recognizing that a song may sound better with another lead vocalist even though it's "your" song, or that, actually, there's someone out there who can play a better guitar part. Humility is what transforms a potential inadequacy into a strength. Not only is humility an "adornment" of wisdom, but it is also a prerequisite.
3. Ego is a double-edged sword. It would be hard to write songs without an ego. It would be hard to have the nerve to believe that the songs I write with a guitar in my home when no one else is around have any value beyond being a nice hobby... without an ego. It would be hard to set aside time from my amazing family (and my 3 month old daughter in particular) to go into a recording studio to produce these songs without an ego. You get the point. And yet, as we all know, ego is truly a double-edged sword. Ego is responsible for all sorts of mishaps, musical and otherwise. Ego can be a stumbling block, it can make you blind, it can make you fearful, and it can lead you astray. Rather than ennobling you and filling your life with a sense of purpose, it can cuckold and trap you. If the songs I've written have any life whatsoever, it will be because the collaborative process has keep the question of ego in the fore. If my ego were unchecked then the songs themselves would have no room to grow, mature, and evolve. Being as conscious as possible of ego is the first step in making sure that ego works for you and not against you.
4. Music is metaphysical. "Metaphysical" is a big word and I'm not sure I fully understand it (but here goes...). For me music is metaphysical because it starts with the physical-- bodies, musical instruments, voices, guitars, etc... but quickly moves beyond the purely physical. The minute you hit record and start editing, music becomes metaphysical. Yesterday Will Roberston did an awesome thing: he wrote an entire choral arrangement and recorded it completely himself. Hearing Will's voice singing 10 different parts simultaneously helped me to understand that music is indeed metaphysical. The fact that you can detach your voice from your vocal chords and sing along with yourself x10 through the act of recording means that music is metaphysical. Also, the fact that Will can write a 10 part chorale arrangement wherein all the different parts blend and complement one another creating an absolutely magnificent and glorious soundscape-- this wouldn't be possible if there weren't laws of harmony and melody that came, if not from God, then certainly from some realm other than the purely physical. I really believe this, and feel sad for anyone that hasn't ever sensed something metaphysical (musical or otherwise). I guess that's what metaphysical means-- something is metaphysical when it attests to the fact that there's a bigger picture to the world than physical, material stuff of our existence. Music is metaphysical, so is love, community, laughter, the connection between generations, and a bunch of other stuff. Seek and ye shall find I suppose!
Well, that's all for now. I've already exceeded my self-imposed word limit. It is great writing for an "imagined audience." It provides a strangely metaphysical motivation to articulate some of these random thoughts.
Thursday, July 14, 2011
Proust and Talmud
"How different they were! And neither told a lie. This was a marvel, that two souls, two such separated tonalities, so to speak, could between them describe the true map of life."
- Cynthia Ozick, The Cannibal Galaxy
I'm reading two books right now. One's a mystery/thriller called Christine Falls by Benjamin Black. The other is The Cannibal Galaxy by Cynthia Ozick. Sometimes I'm in the mood for Black, sometimes Ozick. Sometimes I'm in no mood for reading at all!
Every so often, when reading multiple books at the same time, an amazing thing happens. The two authors enter into a kind of dialogue with one another. Black meets Ozick for a cup of coffee. Of course this imagined cup of coffee doesn't take place in a local coffee shop, but rather in my mind: the mind of the reader. I'm fairly certain that Black doesn't actually know Ozick. More than likely I'm the first person in human history to be reading these two books simultaneously. The juxtaposition is even more unlikely because it's totally random and unplanned. It's no great feat, but it is interesting: different authors, different genres, different decades... And yet, somehow, Black and Ozick are in dialogue with one another because of me.
Lately I've been pondering the concept of "integration." In reading The Cannibal Galaxy, I stumbled upon an insight that resonates with me: if you put two thoughtful individuals in a room, each will have something to say to the other. Meaningful and transformative dialogue can occur without anyone compromising their own unique point of view or surrendering their subjective "truth." That's the realization that Joseph Brill, the protagonist of Ozick's book, uncovers.
Brill is a young man hiding from the Nazis in the basement of a Parisian convent. Surrounded by Christian and secular books, he passes his time by reading. For Brill, reading fills the void left by the deportation of his entire family. Clearly traumatized and alone, Brill eventually musters up the courage to turn to the one Jewish book that, by happenstance, he has brought with him: the Talmud, tractate Ta'anit. He opens to a random page, reads a random rabbinic tale, and then sets the Talmud down. For no apparent reason he then picks up a random book, written by Marcel Proust, opens to a random page, and reads a random section. As he reflects on his reading he remarks to himself: "How different they were! And neither told a lie. This was a marvel, that two souls, two such separated tonalities, so to speak, could between them describe the true map of life."
Integration is a process. It's the process of creating a meaningful dialogue between two different forms of knowledge. The process of integration can take place internally or in a social context. Integration can be the result of careful planning and deliberate curricular decisions, or it can emerge from the normal juxtapositions and tensions that exist from living in a complex and interconnected world as symbolized by Black and Ozick/ Talmud and Proust.
In the case of Joseph Brill, the integration of Talmud and Proust, was an integration that resulted in synthesis. For Brill, Talmud and Proust, though speaking in different "tonalities" played complimentary roles in helping Brill to further define the "true map of life." During a period of profound personal trauma, the awareness of an integrative possibility transforms Brill's mental and emotional reality.
But integration needn't always be smooth. The dialogue between different ideas can affirm difference and incompatibility as well as commonality and reconciliation. Black and Ozick might be a marriage made in heaven or oil and water. The process of integration doesn't dictate a certain outcome. Instead, habituation to the process of integration creates a cognitive and spiritual space that allows for the possibility of meaningful connections and juxtapositions.
As I've indicated elsewhere, integration is a paradigmatic human experience. It's a process that promotes spiritual and emotional health as well as intellectual creativity. The more accustomed we are to integrating different ideas, experiences, and other forms of "input," the more likely we are to figure out how the pieces of our or world fit together to form a "true map of life."
As educators we can model the process of integration by habituating ourselves to creating coffee dates where "separated tonalities" can engage with one another through the process of integration. Whether the outcome is compatibility or difference we can be transparent about our integrating by sharing with our students and colleagues. If students see us, not as transmitters of content (sage on the stage) but as more mature learners (guide on the side), then they will be inclined to emulate and eventually internalize the processes of integration. If we want our students to be critical thinkers, imagineers, creators, and connection makers, then we need to show them how.
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