MY CONGREGATION IN BARCELONA

For the last two years I have been helping out a small Reform congregation in Barcelona, Spain with its religious services and educational programs. They have been in existence only four years, but have made tremendous progress in the face of great difficulties.

Splitting from a fifteen-year old liberal congregation called Atid, the leaders of the new group, called Bet Shalom, set up a house of worship in what can best be described as a large garage in Gracia, a lovely Barcelona neighborhood. They number about 40-60 people but are highly enthusiastic. They do not have a full-time Rabbi, nor can they afford one.

I found them on line when I read a blurb about their existence. The fact that I speak Spanish was of great advantage to them. Not only did they welcome my help but also invited me to visit them. So, in 2008, Ines and I spent the month of June in Barcelona leading services, offering adult education classes and participating in a religious dialogue with the city’s non-Jewish clergy. Also, I was able to bring them a Torah Scroll (generously donated by Temple Beth Israel of Sharon, PA). I even did a wedding and converted six of their members to Judaism, using the nudist beach as the Mikvah.

Their dedication and hard work are note-worthy. They attract young people in search of a liberal understanding of Judaism. In their crammed little space, they meet regularly every Shabbat evening, and, following lay led-services, serve an elaborate Shabbat meal for everyone in attendance. They also offer adult education programs and Introduction to Judaism classes for prospective converts. Impressed by their enthusiasm, I decided to help them out even further. So, last summer, during the month of June 2009, Ines and I returned to Barcelona for fifteen days to lead services, teach classes and broaden their scope of contacts with many liberal Jewish institutions around the world.

So far, 2010 has been a year of great accomplishments for Bet Shalom. Through the efforts of my colleague, Rabbi James Glazier (who spend a few months with them last year), my personal contacts, and their own list of accomplishments, the congregation has been formally admitted into membership by the European Region of the World Union for Progressive Judaism (WUPJ). Furthermore, a number of their prospective converts underwent a formal Giyyur (conversion) under the auspices of the European Bet Din of the WUPJ. One of the congregants, Dr. Felipe Ojeda, a prominent surgeon trained by me in Jewish law and customs, was recently certified as the first Reform Mohel in Spain by the Berit Mila Program of Reform Judaism -the first ever in Spain!

This coming June (2010), Ines and I plan to make our third trip to Barcelona. I expect to do all the rabbinic work as previously, plus I am looking forward to officiating at the wedding of two of their leaders. Now the congregation is at a point where they could use the services of a rabbi, perhaps on a part-time basis, who will come in periodically to lead them in their mission. I cannot continue to do this work far away from the States.

Who will it be?

Rabbi Rifat Sonsino, Ph.D.

TRANSLITERATING HEBREW; THE SILLY “CH”

This past week, in a class dealing with Jewish weddings, one of my students at Boston College was reading an English text that included the Hebrew word huppah (pronounced as “hoopah” meaning, “[wedding] canopy”). He innocently pronounced it as “tchoopah” because the transliteration in front of him had “chuppah.” I smiled and corrected him. He is not alone. Most Americans, upon seeing the letters “ch”, pronounce it as “tch” like “Churchill” or “charity.” That is why I find the rendition of the Hebrew letter het (ח) as “ch” absolutely silly!

Hebrew is a west-Semitic language, which contains a number of letters that cannot easily be transliterated for lack of equivalencies. To resolve this problem, many systems have been devised to reproduce as close as possible the sound of Hebrew letters into English or other European languages. Among them the one created by the Society of Biblical Literature or the Academy of the Hebrew Language is well known to scholars and popular writers; none of them, however, is adequate or totally correct. They are often cumbersome and not always user-friendly.

Today, most Jews, unless they are of Arabic speaking countries, do not pronounce the letter het, a strong guttural coming from the back of the throat, differently from any another hard “h” like the English “hot” or “Humphrey.” Its sound would be close to the German “ch” as in “buch” [pronounced as “booh, meaning “book”] or “Achtung” [pronounced as “ahtoong, meaning “attention”), and in Spanish, like the “j” in Juan.”

Many American publications follow the German method, and transliterate het as “ch.” But this method often ends up being funny for a western reader. For example, the Hebrew/Yiddish word for “friends/company” is hevre, and is often romanized as “chèvre;” but that means “goat” in French. The Hebrew word for “festival” is hag, but it is usually transliterated as “Chag;” this sounds like the song my granddaughter, almost three, sings, “Toot toot chugga chugga big red car.” The Hebrew hai means “life” but when rendered as “chai” it reminds me of “Çay”[pronounced as "tchai"], a Turkish word meaning “tea.” Recently, in a discussion about Jewish circumcision, one of my students kept saying “tchi-toosch,” until I realized that he meant hittukh (meaning, “cutting”), because the text he had in his hand read “chituch.” I don’t think you can say with a straight face “chidush” for the Hebrew word hiddush (“novelty”). This is absurd.

So, I am, once again, starting a campaign to drop the silly “ch” from the system of transliteration. I tried before but was not able to get the attention of key people in the publishing industry. Using “h” for the letter het may not be the best solution but at least an American reader will be able to read it closer to the way in which it is pronounced by a Hebrew speaking person today. In my work, I render the letter "het" as "h" and the latter "kaf'/khaf" as "kh." Hence, for instance, I prefer Hanukah to “Chanukah” (it is not ‘tcha-nukah); hayyim (“life”) to "chayyim,” "barukh" to "baruch,"or hasid (“pious”) to “chasid.”

Hopefully, I made my point. Please drop the silly “ch!”

Rifat Sonsino
rsonsino@tbsneedham.org

RESPECT FOR TEACHERS

At Boston College I am usually called, “Professor” or “Rabbi.” (Once, I was even called “Father”--Well, I teach in a Catholic College!). However, recently, one of my students wrote me an email addressing me as “Hey.” In another case, a student sent me a note that began with “Dear Rifat.” I was surprised and taken aback. Who are these bad-mannered individuals who dare to address a teacher “Hey” of by his first name? What kind of an upbringing did they have from their parents and other adults? Newspapers often report on how some students disrespect their instructors in the public schools. There is even as association called National Association for Prevention of Teacher Abuse (NAPTA); that is, for abuse by students.

I grew up in a community that demanded high respect for elders and teachers. When I was in High School in Istanbul, we used to stand up when the teacher walked into the classroom. Even in Law School, when the professor entered the lecture hall, the entire class stood on its feet. We never addressed our teachers by their first name. Later on, when I was at the rabbinic seminary and then at my graduate school, we always called our professors by their title. Even now, after so many years, I still call my former teachers, some of whom are my age and a few younger than me, by their academic titles; never by their first name. That does not mean that I liked or loved all my instructors. In fact, some I did not care for, others I feared, and a few I could not stand. But there were others, maybe five or six, who had tremendous influence in my life, and I am who I am because of them. But I always treated all my mentors with respect. That is what I was taught.

Rabbinic literature urges every individual to find a mentor: “Get yourself a teacher” (Avot 1:6). “Revere your teacher as you revere Heaven,” says another source (Avot: 4:15 end). Ancient Rabbis place a teacher on a higher plane than a parent. Thus, they argue, if one finds a lost article belonging to a parent and another to a teacher, the teacher’s article must be returned first” (BM 33a). Though the honor due a teacher is a given in rabbinic literature, the sages also state that the teacher needs to earn this trust and respect: “Let the honor of your disciple be as dear to you as your own,” states one Rabbi (Avot: 4: 15a).

As a teacher I try to emulate the best of my mentors, because I realize that by teaching I am also molding my students’ character. What a high responsibility! I hope you too will always remember your favorite teachers, and bless their name every day.

Rifat Sonsino

FACEBOOK AND OTHERS

Many people have asked me, “How come you are on Facebook?” “Aren’t you afraid of giving important information about your private life to the world at large?” Here is my answer: I had no intention of getting into Facebook until the leadership of the Central Conference of American Rabbis (Reform) began to use it in order to give out a few details about last year’s national convention in Israel. If I wanted to know what was happening at these meetings, I had to go to Facebook. I did, and stayed. Similarly, I signed up for Twitter in order to find out what was going on during the popular uprising in Tehran last year. It was uncensored, immediate and heart-wrenching. (I no longer spend much time in Twitter unless there is a major event around the world). I also use Skype to communicate with my friends and family in Spain, Israel, Turkey and Argentina.

A social network such as Facebook comes handy because it allows me to connect with people I care but live far away from me. (I live in the Boston area). That is how I learned about the birth of my cousin’s twins in New York; that is how I comment on aspects of Jewish life to my friends in Barcelona; that is how I respond to queries raised to me from Buenos Aires; that is how I touch base with my Law School friends in Istanbul and Luxemburg. It is quick, personal and effective.

In the biblical world, and until recently, friends and family members lived in the same neighborhood for a long time. People rarely moved- if ever- unless forced by nature or enemies. When the Bible states, “You shall love your neighbor as yourself’ (Lev. 19:18), or when Ben Sira writes, “Help your neighbor according to your ability” (29:20), the reference, I believe, is to your next-door friend, or at least, to the member of the same community. It does not mean to your fellow human being. That interpretation came much later when the world got larger through travel, relocation or migration. That is where we are today.

Most of us move constantly from one place to another, willingly or by necessity. In my professional career I have already relocated at least six times, not to mention a move from Istanbul to Cincinnati, or Buenos Aires to Philadelphia. Only one of my high school friends lives in Turkey now. Just a few of my classmates from Law School have remained in Istanbul. Every single colleague from my seminary days in Cincinnati, OH or graduate school in Philadelphia, PA has moved away, and can be found in different parts of the world. How do you keep in touch with them? If keeping bonds are important to you-as they are to me-you have no other choice but to sign up for a social network to renew and maintain long standing friendships. Just don’t give out your social security number.
Rifat Sonsino

ALMOST JOBLESS

I have been teaching at Boston College for the last ten years on a part-time basis, two electives in the Fall and two electives in the Spring semester, and I love it. Even while working as a congregational rabbi, I was on the faculty of BC, and after my retirement in 2003, I devoted more time and energy to my teaching. It kept my mind alert and, twice a week, it gave me something to look forward. This Fall, however, I faced a challenge unlike any other. Because of budget restrictions, the College began to review its policy with regard to electives taught by non-tenured professors like me, and I feared my position would be cut.

For a few weeks I contemplated the possibility that I may not be able to teach again. At age 71, I don’t want to work full time, nor do I need it financially. In the past, as a synagogue Rabbi, I counseled many people who had lost jobs, and now, for the first time in my life, I faced the same issue. I asked myself, what will I do every day? How will I keep myself busy? Am I still useful to others? One of my grand-daughters facetiously suggested that I could work at Trader Joe’s. Someone else wanted me to volunteer at a local library. Finally, the dénouement occurred two weeks ago when the chair of my department, with the recommendation of the curriculum committee, asked me to teach Judaica subjects again next year, though one elective less and not all the biblical subjects I loved to cover. Well, c’est la vie! It is better than nothing.

This mini crisis made me think about the countless people who lose their positions and become unemployed every year. How do they pay the monthly bills? How do they fill up their days? How do they deal with rejection and bad luck? It is clear to me that, even though our jobs do not define or describe us, they do give us some structure, and often help create purpose and meaning in our lives. “When you eat the labor of your hands, happy shall you be” says the Psalmist (Ps. 128:2). The ancient Rabbis knew this well too. Work, they taught, confers “honor” to the worker (Ned. 49b). Though some sages argued that the burden of worldly occupation is removed from those who are engaged in Torah (cf. Num. R. Hukkat, 19/26), others more realistically added that the study of Torah has to be accompanied by “derekh eretz” (worldly occupations) (M Avot 2/2; cf. 3/21).

The lesson for a retired person like me is this: continue to work as long as your health allows; try to find satisfaction in your daily profession; be useful to yourself and others, and, just in case, develop other hobbies to keep your mind alert.
Maybe it is time to pick up the old violin again!

Rifat Sonsino

MY RECENT VISIT TO BUENOS AIRES

During the first half of January my wife, Ines, and I visited Buenos Aires, my wife’s birth place. I had spent three years there, from 1966-1969, as the Rabbi of a nascent Reform Congregation named Emanuel. The last time we were in Argentina was thirteen years ago. Our primary purpose now was to visit family, not to do tourism. The weather was great (it is summer there), much better than the cold and snowy days we left behind.

We found Buenos Aires much changed. It is now a sprawling capital of about 13 million people (out of 36 million in the whole country). Areas we used to consider as fancy are no longer so. For example, Harrods, a large department store downtown on Florida Str. is closed, and the street, no longer open to automobile traffic, is less glamorous. Similarly, the old theatre in the touristic Boca section does not exist, though people still dance the tango in the local cafes located in the small plaza.

Buenos Aires always boasted of delicious food. This is still the case. The “asados” (different cuts of grilled meat) are delicious. The restaurants in the Costanera are doing brisk business serving regulars and tourists. There is a new development called Puerto Madero, which is modern, fancy and attractive. Built on both sides of the Rio de la Plata, it offers the best culinary delights of the city. The new museums, Portabas and Malba, contain some of the most attractive exhibits. (We saw a wonderful display of Andy Warhol paintings). The country still has financial problems. During our stay the US imposed a financial embargo on the Argentinean Federal Bank, but lifted it within a week. The president of the country and the vice-president don’t talk to one another. Food and transportation are less expensive than Boston, but clothing and electronics cost more.

The Jewish community is smaller than my time. It is estimated that there are about 180,000 Jews now in Argentina, with the majority living in the capital. (When I was there, the number was about 250,000). Because of anti-Semitism in the 70’s, some Jews left for Spain, Venezuela or Israel. However, a new structure is emerging that is worthy of note. My colleague Rabbi Sergio Bergman, one of my successors in Emanuel, has created a Jewish Foundation to which three liberal congregations belong, along with a private Jewish school that is highly regarded in the community.
Ines and I attended a Friday night service at NCI-Emanuel synagogue and were very moved by the Sabbath spirit that was created through song and prayer. But the orientation is much more traditional than my time.

Traveling to Buenos Aires on Aerolineas Argentinas was easy and fun, but the return to the States was horrible; repeated schedule changes, alleged mechanical problems etc. We finally managed to leave a day early and spent a delightful sunny day in Miami Beach. It was wonderful to go and visit, but also great to come back.
Rifat Sonsino

INTERDEPENDENCE

INTERDEPENDENCE
Modern technology has made the world much smaller. IPhones, Facebook, Twitter, instant messengers and other devises enable people to connect with one another around the globe right away. Recently, using Skype, I taught a class from my home in the Boston area, and was able to discuss issues with my students in Barcelona, Spain with great ease. During the last demonstrations in Tehran, the capital of Iran, I followed the developments through Twitter. It was much faster than getting the breaking news from CNN. I guess this is one of the reasons why we no longer write formal letters to each other. It is much easier to send an email. It is instantaneous and pretty efficient

Not only is the world getting smaller but we are now more than ever before linked to one another. In a recent interview with Newsweek, former President Clinton said, “This [is] the most interdependent age in human history” (Dec. 28, 2009). Globalism and international trade relations obligate each nation to rely on other countries. Gone is the day when one State can dominate the world. Even super powers are dependent on others for basic commodities.

Though there is nothing new in this observation, I wonder if this trend makes the study of Kabbalah more appealing to many people in our time. It is known that Kabbalah is going mainstream; many Kabbalah centers are now opening up in many cities, including for youngsters; and not only for Jews but for Gentiles as well. (For example, Madonna, Britney Spears, Demi Moore, Mick Jagger and others).

It is known that Jewish mysticism’s central idea is that all human beings, and, in fact, the entire universe, material and spiritual, is interlinked. “Everything is organically, seamlessly joined to everything else,” writes Rabbi Larry Kushner, a Kabbalah devotee. I am not so sure about our impact on the realm of the spirit, but I am convinced that what I do, whether good or bad, can impact on another human being. This realization places a higher responsibility on each of us. The lesson is: “that which is hateful to you, do not do to others.” But this is not a new lesson. It was already proclaimed by the first century Jewish sage, Hillel the Elder (See Talmud, Shab. 31a; Mt. 7: 12). It is still good in our days.
Rifat Sonsino