A Reflection on Teaching

A friend of mine is in a graduate program in school administration. I say friend and I mean “friend.” There are people who are colleagues and there are people who you feel a connection of soul. He is one of the latter. He is not Jewish. He asks me bizarre questions on Jewish law, knows more Jewish concepts than most Jews and is a serious Christian. He is one of those rare thinkers whose left side of brain matches right side. He came to observe my classroom. These are his notes describing my Talmud class. I decided to use his excellent description as a moment of self-reflection on my teaching. In the italics is my commentary on his notes. I want to thank him for allowing me to do so.

Classroom Observation, Honors Talmud, Jewish Community Day School, February 8, 2012.

7.50 a.m. Arrived at the start of class. The students were not present yet—they were in another classroom watching the video announcements since there is no television in the Beit Midrash. The Beit Midrash is a converted music room—the walls are covered with soundproofing material and the windows have been covered over with imitation stained glass window stickers to make the place fee like a holy place. There is a portable white board along one wall of the room and a laptop and computer projector are set up a short distance from it so as to project a PowerPoint slide onto the board. It reads:

QUESTION!
1) How do you decide which bracha to make first, then second, etc?
2) What valuable lessons does this teach you for your future?


I have really tried to make my classroom into a Beit Midrash (A “home of study” I want my students to understand that studying Torah is different from studying math or history. The windows and the back well covered with a photo-mural of the Western Wall in Jerusalem give it the feel of sanctity. There is a television in the classroom but I have left it broken. I often point out to my students that I don’t have a TV. (For some, that is like saying that I am a Breatharian that lives with out eating.) So no TV in class. I decided that that same instrument they use to watch “Gossip Girl” could not be elevated to Torah study.


A total of six long rectangular tables are set in a U-shape focused around the white board. On one of these tables, along the right part of the U-shape, toward a corner of the classroom the teacher, LW, has set out plate a three plates. One plate has almonds, dried figs, fresh grapes, and dates; another plate has slices of coffee cake; the third plate has carob chips. There is also a bottle of pomegranate juice on the table. Near this table are bookshelves filled with religious texts. Next to the bookshelves is an Aron Kodesh. [a decorated cabinet containing a Torah scroll]

The set up of the room is based on the Shulchan Aruch, the Code of Jewish Law, that says that the teacher must be able to see every student and every student must be able to see one another. Learning Torah is about interaction, the teacher, the students are as much the lesson as the text under discussion.
In my Talmud class I provide a lot of food. There is a proverb. “Open mouths = open heart.” I am not sure who said that. Maybe it was me! Whoever said it is true. I also love to be hospitable. Its my "thing" both at home and at school. It was also our father Abraham's thing, so I am in good company.

7.54 a.m. The students arrive to class. There are a total of six students—four boys and two girls. As they come in, LW says, “Okay holy brothers and sisters, question on the board. Don’t touch the food yet. Sit down and answer the question. If you want tea, the water should be hot.” On a separate table is an electric hot water heater; two students head over and make themselves cups of tea, the rest sit around the table with the plates of food on it as if they were sitting down to a family meal except that they take out their notebooks and begin writing. LW sits among them and engages in light banter with the students as they’re sitting down.

I spend the first few minutes of class re-establishing our relationship. The Beit Midrash is a “bayit” a HOME. Students should feel at home. The presence of religious books, a teacher and a Torah scroll should inspire a sense of caution but beyond that they should feel comfortable in this space and comfortable with their teacher.
I am partial to tea with Torah. Some people drink alcohol when they study. I want my kids to prefer tea. Alcohol makes you stupid. Tea does not.


LW: What day is today?
Male student: The eighth
LW (in an Indian accent): Today is one day closer to death

A teacher of mine in India used to say this. I like my students to know who I am and to know who I was. I wasn’t BORN this way. I am the product of lots of different kinds of experiences. Besides, it cracks them up every time and relaxes them. The great sage Rava taught that all classes should begin with a joke, to set the students (and the teacher) at ease.


8.00 a.m. After all students have had a chance to sit down and write for a few minutes, LW begins class formally by asking for dedications and the names of sick people. Students call out names and after each one, LW says a brief bracha in Hebrew. After a minute or two of this, LW asks what else is happening in their lives. Students describe upcoming tests and projects and one student mentions a college basketball game that is happening tonight to which LW replies, “There’s a certain point in sports when my prayer becomes impossible. This section of the class ends with the students and LW praying together in unison in Hebrew.

This is all routine. When my former boss first described this dedication process to me, I thought it was terribly hokey. I now depend on it as a reliable way to focus class attention and to get students to be aware of each other’s needs. We offer the merit of our Torah study as a source of healing for sick family members, and for success in all their endeavors. It’s a way of linking Torh to other important areas of life.
We made the blessing on learning Torah, and as usual, I launch into at least a short discussion of pure Torah, usually Jewish law so the prayer is not said in vain.

After the prayer, LW points to a quotation that’s projected onto the white board. It reads, “Everything you need to know about love you can learn from prayer.” [I made that up] He then goes on to ask the students to answer the opening question.

LW: Here we have a plate of food for Tu B’Shavat things. How do we decide which bracha to make first? All items on the plate share a same bracha. Some have different brachas.

A bracha is a short prayer said before eating. There are specific wordings for particular kinds of foods. Fruits share a common wording. Cake and non-bread grain products another, and so forth.
After some discussion, LW sums up, “For blessings we want to go from the most specific to the most general.” Then he pivots the discussion, “What does this say about love?”

8.07 a.m. The students are ninth and tenth graders and do not jump in to answer. LW shifts his question to advice and offers up the following advice, “With apologies to the young women present this will be helpful to the gentlemen. When you say thank you say thank you as specifically as possible. Don’t thank your wife in general. Don’t say thank you for the dinner. Say this was the best broccoli I’ve ever tasted.” Then, as an aside, he offers more advice to the young men. “Gentlemen, whatever you do, don’t buy your wife a potted plant. I did that for my wife once. She told me, it’s enough that I have to take care of you, I don’t have time to take care of this too.”

I love teaching Jewish law. I want them to say the prayers before eating. I also want them to be able to connect that practice to other areas of their life. Prayer life is simple, “please”, “thank you” and “I love you.” I want to them to feel deeply that prayer is about relationship and that ALL relationships involve spiritual connection.

I teach boys and girls together. If I were someone else that might go without saying and without further comment. Teaching a Talmud class to boys and girls together (Traditionally girls do not learn Talmud.) is the time when I feel most like the sole observant teacher in the school. I am not uncomfortable with teaching boys and girls together or teaching Talmud to girls but I am very aware that it puts me outside the bounds of the other more traditional world that I live in. My traditional self is sometimes at quiet odds with the pluralistic and not-so-tradition bound tone of the school.

LW tells the students to take the next four to five minutes to get something to eat. Students get up and walk around the room. Some of them fix cups of tea. Others make small plates of food. LW makes a plate of food for me and gives it to me. Next door a rock music class is under way and the students comment on the song being played.

8.12 a.m. The students have all gotten food, juice and tea and are sitting back down at their seats around the table. One student sips some juice and says, “Mr. W— this is the best pomegranate juice I’ve ever had.” LW and students chuckle. Chit-chat continues and at one point LW discusses ways to make faux cheese from almonds.

So by now you have figured it out. This is not really just a class in Gemara (Talmud). Its also a class in life. Its about presenting a model of respectful interaction and mutual concern. Its about the nuts and bolts of Jewish life, saying prayers before you eat and having healthy marriages. That is the context for the text, a healthy well-balanced spiritual life.

8.14 a.m. LW begins the formal lesson on a sugya [stand-alone discussion] from the Gemara. The situation is about borrowing and collateral. Each student has his or her own copy of the Gemara in which they make notes. They take turns reading in Hebrew and LW works with them each individually as they interpret what they’ve just read.

8.19 a.m. They continue working through the sugya and LW weaves in a narrative of how the Gemara came to be in the discussion. Rabbis would receive people and answer their questions. The generations of Rabbis can be traced in each sugya and so what emerges is an intergenerational conversation. The specific sugya being discussed deals with who one should trust when a item of collateral offered up by a borrower is stolen from the lender. If turns out that the lender to be trusted regarding the theft—the lender knows who comes and goes from his house—but the borrower is to be trusted when it comes to value of the collateral since the collateral belongs to the borrower.

8.23 a.m. LW starts to sum up, “The borrower has a better idea of the value of the object so we trust him. But he’s also the guy that has the most to gain by not telling the truth.”

Students continue reading in Aramaic and LW continues to work with them, translating into English and discussing what’s going on in the text.

8.27 a.m. LW draws a distinction between Jewish law and US law. In Jewish law believability is established before testimony is heard whereas in US law the jury decides whether or not testimony is believable. LW uses a student as an example, he turns to a male student and says, “I think you more than anyone else will grow up to be a professional gambler. Now would we believe you in a court of law? No, because you’re on the fringes of society, you’re a gambler, so we wouldn’t consider your testimony.”

The kid is has a good head for math. He would be a great card counter. He also likes to win. Its important for kids to know that you KNOW them. You know their strengths (and maybe even a few of their weaknesses)

8.30 a.m. LW begins a series of rhetorical questions, each one deeper than the previous. “What’s the difference on believability? Why is one person believable and the other guy is not? Why do we not believe them both?” After a pause, he offers up, “Now we’ll get philosophical and have a Calvinist moment.” He sends a student to one of the bookshelves to get a copy of the Tanach. The student brings it back to LW who flips through it and has trouble finding the passage he wants. At one point he offers up, “Thank God for the principle of plausible deniability. It’s not in the Talmud but it should be.”

Wow, the dude with the beard knows about “Calvinism.” I flaunt my fancy education in class. I use a lot of big words and refer to concepts from other disciplines a lot. Torah does not exist in a vacuum; it is part of a real world. I am proud of being able to put Torah into a wider context for my students.

I am also ok with fumbling. I had trouble finding the passage. So what? It gives my students permission not to be perfect.

I am pretty sure that “plausible deniability” IS in the Talmud somewhere.


8.34 a.m. LW finds the passage he’s looking for. “A man will not become established through wickedness but the righteous will not falter.”

8.36 a.m. LW asks, “Why is it that the borrower needs to borrow?” Discussion ensues and eventually the idea that people who are rich are rich because they deserve it and those who are poor deserve it. LW and students alike express dismay at such a conclusion and reject it.

8.38 a.m. LW remarks, “I personally am very troubled by it. Even more troubled that the discussion ends here.”

Teaching Torah means being real and sharing the struggle. Sometimes I don’t get it. Sometimes I am troubled. I have to say that. I take this stuff seriously. I don’t jump to agreement. I also don’t jump to blind opposition. I don’t deny all my other experiences. I try to engage and help my students engage in honest dialogue with the Rabbis of the text and, in general, to feel comfortable with testing ideas out for themselves.

8.40 a.m. A student asks, “Why did they stop adding to the Gemara?” LW answers. “That’s a good question. No one really knows.” He then goes on to describe the last person who edited the Gemara and also mentions that discussions and exchange of opinions continue to this day so, in a sense, the Gemara continues.

8.43 a.m. LW, “What time is class over?” A student answers, “Two minutes.” LW responds, “Okay, we’re not going to start the next sugya.” At this point one student asks, “Mr. W— weren’t the Jews money lenders?” LW answers, “Yes?” The student responds, “So it just seems like the lender who is to be believed is most likely the Jewish guy and the Gemara is pretty nice to lender.” LW, enthusiastically, “That’s a really good point.”

I missed an opportunity here. What I should have said is “Look, the Talmud is still happening, RIGHT HERE!” Our discussion is not on that tiny page of closde text. Our discussion is on the page of LIFE. But, we are part of the same discussion and those Rabbis are here with us, right now. Linked to them in common discussion, we all pushed into a timeless present.

8.45 a.m. As the bell rings, LW closes class with a bracha.

The bell rings. So much for being beyond time. That last hurried after- bracha, the prayer in thanks for the food is like the stale rolls wrapped in napkins my grandmother used to stuff in my pocket. It is nourishment for the road, a little taste of the eternity of the Torah encounter. As long as the blessing of Torah is in our pockets, we are just a little free of the tyranny of time.

Hijabi for a Day

[The following is an article my daughter has written for the newspaper of her Jewish community day school of which she is co-editor. She asked me to thank the many people who helped her with interviews. She would have liked to use all the words of everybody if only time and space would permit. She looks forward to your comments.]


Hijabi for a Day
by Sara Weissman


WHY HIJAB?

From the businessman’s suit to a goth’s band T-shirt, we all know that clothes are more than cloth. What we choose to wear is a sign of who we are, what we aspire to be, and how we choose to represent ourselves. So imagine wearing your heart on your sleeve, or rather your religious devotion over your head. The concept of hijab, the headscarf worn by Muslim women, is less simple than it seems.

For this month’s Challenge to the Editor, I wore hijab for one day. Hijab, which literally means “to veil,” is the code of modesty for Muslim women past puberty. The requirements for hijab consist of covering most of the body including hair and avoiding perfume and tight, transparent, or flashy clothing.

The choice to try wearing hijab for a day was as much as an internal experiment, as an external one. Considering the scary and relatively new phenomenon of Islamophobia, part of it was to see if people treated me differently. But more than that, it was a way to take a tiny glimpse into something larger, a practice meaningful to millions of people and the idea that, though the clothes don’t make the woman, they can say a lot about what she believes in.

A LITTLE BACKGROUND:

Before taking scarf in hand, I wanted a better understanding of where the idea of hijab comes from. Though there are multiple references to hijab in the Qur'an, in al-Ahzaab 33:59 it says, “O Prophet! Tell your wives and your daughters and the women of the believers to draw their cloaks all over their bodies. That will be better, that they should be known (as free respectable women) so as not to be annoyed. And Allaah is Ever Oft-Forgiving, Most Merciful.” Another, al-Noor 24:31, says, “And say to the believing women…that they should draw their veils over their bosoms and not display their beauty except to their husbands, their fathers, their husbands' fathers, their sons, their husbands' sons, their brothers…” and it goes on to list others.

After reading the above paragraph, your inner American, feminist may be a little miffed. Mine was too. In fact she grumbled quite a bit about the seeming patriarchal tone, the same I struggle with when discussing women’s modesty in my own religion. But many Muslim women feel very differently. In fact, they feel quite the opposite, embracing hijab as a freeing as opposed to forced expression of their faith.

“For me, the hijab is more than modesty; it is a liberating fact,” said Sara Khalil, 25. Born in Saudi Arabia, Khalil lives in Canada and has been wearing hijab since 2005. “It has allowed me to perceive myself as an individual outside the bounds of physical beauty and attraction, and further project a confidence that is independent of others' judgment,” she said. Samara Gabriel, who converted to Islam in 2010 and runs a blog called ImInItForTheScarves.com, holds a similar view. “My body is a private thing. Mine,” she said. “Not to be shared with the world. It also means that I dress to please God, not men on the street.” Gabriel’s beliefs were reaffirmed by an incident with her editor, when she worked for a local newspaper. “The editor angrily made the comment ‘What if I WANTED to look at you?’ As if it was his right. That is a good example as to why I love wearing it. I don't feel anymore as if I need to flip my hair around or show off my boobs or my butt to get attention. I love Pink's ‘Stupid Girls’ as an example to what I mean,” she said.

Zara Asad, 19, explained that hijab for her is also an expression of her spiritual struggle. “It’s the covering, the cloth that protects my heart from any filth coming in,” said Asad. “It’s my shield. Everyday is a battle against improving myself and fighting distractions around me. It’s a very vital part of me.” Asad began wearing hijab when she was 17. Though both her mother, originally from Pakistan, and her sister wore it, she was afraid of what her friends and predominantly white, New Jersey community would think. But after she wore hijab, Asad said she could never go back. “When I first wore the hijab I felt like myself, a Muslim, for the very first time in public,” she said. “I felt like I could breathe for the first time.”

Others also relate to this sense of identity that comes with hijab “Our hijab is both our modest covering and a badge of our identity, “ said Rania Abuisnaineh, a 20 year old from Minnesota with family from Hebron. “People immediately recognize us as Muslim when they see our hijab, just as they recognize a Jewish man from his yarmulke or a Sikh from his turban.” However for her and others, hijab’s meaning lies in more than identity and modesty, but in the belief that it is a law from God. “When people ask me why I wear hijab, my first response is always this: ‘Because it is a command from Allah; and He knows what is best for His creation more than the creation know what is best for themselves,’” Abuisnaineh said.

Still, reactions to hijab in the modern world can be mixed and some Muslim women see a disconnect between who they are and how they are perceived. .” Shameela, however, who was born in India and now lives in Qatar, has seen these perceptions overcome. One of few Muslims in her city, she wore hijab since she was 12 and said that when she went to college, her friends saw a new side to Muslims through her activism at the university. “They came to know that wearing hijab is not a sign of oppression, and that wearing it does not make any women inferior.” Hind Yousef Khalifa, who is a resident of Abu Dhabi, also elaborated on this point. “It (hijab) doesn't stop a woman from practicing any aspect of her everyday life,” she said. “We study, we drive, we work, we go out with friends, we volunteer and do community work and are very active in society.”

A DAY WITH HIJAB:

With all of these women’s words in mind, on a Wednesday morning over winter break I decided to put on hijab. I stood in front of the mirror, staring at the red cloth clutched in one hand and three safety pins in the other. Following the careful steps of a youtube tutorial, I slowly wrapped and pinned until the fabric finally resembled a headscarf. I looked up at the mirror, proud and a little unused to the lack of auburn frizz in the reflection that staring back at me.

With some self-conscious jitters, I went about my day as usual. I drove my family to the doctor’s, looked at old pictures with my mom, and spent the rest of the day at Fashion Island, looking for belated Chanukah gifts and hanging out with my grandma. But, I felt different. Even if it wasn’t my own religion, I suddenly felt like I had to reflect what the scarf represented. I tried walking straighter, grinned at strangers, and tacked extra pleases and thank yous on every sentence to the sales clerks at Macy’s. Despite feeling like I looked different, wearing hijab made me feel more comfortable in some ways. It reminded me of those mornings when you put on a favorite a baggy sweater, too relaxed to dress to impress. There was a certain calm in feeling like I didn’t have to look cute for anyone.

At the same time, wearing hijab attracted some unwanted attention. Walking through Fashion Island produced long stares, mostly curious but a few hostile. One man continued glaring even after I looked him in the eye while a saleswoman, chatting up other customers, spoke curtly and would not look me in the eye at all. Still, the amazing thing is the number of odd looks was nothing compared to the number of smiles. Throughout the day, I got wide grins from absolute strangers.

I would like to say I reached some mind-blowing conclusion after thinking on the experience and unpinning my scarf that night. What I came away with was more modest, but I still think entirely worth it. After a day, I can’t claim to know what it’s like for women to wear hijab: how it feels, what they believe, or how they are treated. Still, I ended the day impressed by women willing to hide parts of themselves but at the same time stand out, for the sake of their God and their religion. In the end, the biggest lesson I learned was that clothing can be fabric or it can reflect who a person wants to be. For Muslim women, hijab is a constant reminder that they are always aspiring toward better observance of their religion. The take-home message I got from a day in hijab was we can change our clothes but more importantly our clothes can change us. The question is what do we want them to reflect?

The No-Kvetching Challenge!

Over the last few months I have taken a challenge on myself to fast from complaining for Shabbat. (Friday sundown to Saturday sundown). I have not always been entirely successful but even the effort is a wonderful experience. I have used twitter to invite others to join me in the fast. I invite my fellow fasters to post their non-complaining experiences here, so others can share their successes and their "failures" so we all can grow.

Five "Lunar Lessons" In Honor of the New Moon (Rosh Chodesh -Mar Heshvan)

Lunar lesson 1: We have no light of our own. At our best, we reflect the light of our Creator. At our worst, we conceal it almost completely.

Lunar lesson 2: The service of G-d depends on lots and lots of new beginnings.

Lunar lesson 3: Don't be afraid of the ups and downs, waxings and wanings. Even when your light grows dim, it is part of the process.

Lunar Lesson 4: We all look very luminous from a distance, get closer and you see the craters and wear and tear. And yet we are beautiful.

Lunar Lessons 5: There are times to be bigger and times to be smaller. It takes both great self-esteem and great humility to serve G-d.

Looking up at the Stars: Sukkot Thoughts

My sukkah, the backyard hut that I have built and decorated for the festival of sukkot, is finished. I will spend the next week eating and sleeping out here under the roof of leaves and bamboo through which I can see the stars through the darkness. The Rabbis tell us that the sukkah is a double reminder. It is a reminder of the simple dwellings our ancestors had as nomads in the desert. It is also a reminder of the supernatural clouds that surrounded the Bnai Israel during our 40 years in the desert, protecting us from harm. I love how it reflects my desire to beautify the commandment. I love the smell of fresh green leaves. When sukkot ends there is a prayer to say “farewell” to the sukkah. I always cry.

The Chassidic masters explain that 40 days from the beginning of Elul til Yom Kippur were a seminar in the art and science of personal growth and change. We learned how to repent and we applied what we learned and we emerge from Yom Kippur, the Day of Atonement as new beings, spiritual babies. Like all things immature, we are delicate. We are not quite ready to carry our new insights into the “real world” not even into the drama-heavy confines of our own homes. Instead we stake out in the outside world a kind of “field of holiness” our own personal clouds to cushion us as we prepare to be our new improved selves in the same old world. That is the first lesson. We need walls. We do not accept everything about his world unconditionally. We determine who we are and who we want to be by creating boundaries. TV is outside my boundary. A good movie might be inside. I decide what is inside and what is outside. Jewish law says that the walls need to be strong enough to withstand an ordinary wind. There is no point in setting limits if they can’t stand up to ordinary temptations, to resist the fashions of the world from the outside or the promptings of the lower self from the inside.

The roof is made of temporary materials. According to kabbalistic tradition, the roof represents our level of understanding. There is no permanent ceiling to our comprehension of spiritual matters. We are meant to be keep growing. What little I grasp this year will seem like dried out waste compared to the vitality of next year’s comprehension. As the holiday proceeds the leaves wither revealing more and of the sky, that ever present reminder of a reality that transcends our physical limitations, a glimpse of the infinite in a finite world.

I look up through the leaves and I feel the love of G-d, the touchless embrace of that infinity. We call sukkot “The Season of our Joy.” Joy helps us to carry the gains of our repentance into the sukkah and then back into our home. True Joy, the rejoicing in G-d’s goodness and generosity by enjoying His world with gratitude is the elixir that ultimately transforms our delicate new state of being into a solid new servant of G-d who can now serve in the real world.

Of all of our holidays, feasts and fasts, Sukkot is perhaps the most accessible to our neighbors both Jews and non-Jews. The power of gratitude and joy reflected in outdoor living is virtually infectious. To my Jewish friends, I encourage you to use this as an opportunity to invite others, particularly your Muslim neighbors. Break out the tea and cake and enjoy the embrace of the sukkah together. Perhaps find a little peace together.
Our sukkah is finally ready and waiting. See you in its shade!

The Spiritual Harvest of Ramadan

On my Twitter account, @jihadijew, I asked my Muslim friends to share with me what they had gained from their experience of Ramadan. Here are their answers in the order in which I received them. I have edited them a little to fill in words left out for twitteresque brevity or corrected grammar for a few non-English speakers. I didn’t edit the content at all.

I asked the question to encourage people to inspire each other but also as a way of helping me think about the Jewish month of reflection (Elul) which begins this week. I can only hope that in a month’s time, with the help of God, I will be able to report a few wonderful gains myself.

Here is what folks said:

I learned to have more patience

I learned that praying in the House of God and listening to beautiful recitation, brings peace to your heart like nothing else can!

I learned to to remember Allah every moment of my life, and be patient enough til I meet Him.

I learned that taking out one or two hours just to focus on your spirit (whether through reading/meditation/prayer) is really rejuvenating.

I learned about “unity.” We rarely see this atmosphere in our daily life. Everyone is busy with their own life but in this month you feel the difference

I learned that God is always on your side, so be on His

I learned that fasting is not just about depriving your body of food and drink but more significantly about reaching the state taqwa (piety)

I learned to take my time in doing things that I would like to achieve. I am trying to persevere with patience.

I learned that faith isn’t a physical destination but a spiritual state that transcends and emanates from wherever you travel.

I learned to appreciate waking up each day. Life is really short so we have to take advantage of every little minute we can breath without difficulties.

I learned to learned help family first and to train our selves to remember Allah so that the soul feel happy and the nafs (lower self) doesn't go astray

I learned more patience and spiritual insight! Also the need for loving all humans.

Allah says be merciful to my creation and I will show you mercy!

I learned to praise Allah for every blessing even if it was little because there are people fasting but they don't have anything to break their fast

When we abstain from the bounties that Allah provides us during Ramadan, Makes us realise how merciful Allah actually is!

For me Ramadan represents the act of attaining contentment through the exhibition of gratitude to Allah for all that we have

In Ramadan I focused on the equality aspect in Islam.We all stand side by side in prayer humbling ourselves to God

Im starting to go to the mosque more this Ramadhan. Hearing the azan and not showing up on time makes me feel bad.

that my community in Toronto is flawed and united; which is, in fact, a beautiful thing.

I learned to talk to Him again and I realised that nothing is possible without His help and guidance. That fact made me happier

I noticed our ability for sself control,people around the world sit in front of food and don't touch it until the maghrib prayer .

I learned that fasting for a month in summer is no joke! More importantly I learned to filter bad thoughts and actions by fasting.

I learned patience, not sweating over the petty things

I have been thinking bout what I've gained in this holy month. I definitely learned a lot but its challenging to keep it up for the other 11 months. Inshallah, G-d give us the strength!

I increased my love for the Qur'an as well as my daily adkhaar (remembrance of Allah) in the morning and evening.

I learned that my desires can be controlled.

That the Path leads to the Oasis. Our sights must be set on the Oasis - not the dust on the Path. (a paraphrase of Shams Tabrizi)

I spent more time and money for the cause of Somalia. The satisfaction and closeness to G-d I felt, will make me do it all year long.

In Ramadan I decided I won't enter into endless arguments whether I was right or not.. Time is better spent trying to get close to G-D!

I began writing a diary. When I looked back at how hard times passed (during some days of the revolution in Egypt) I thanked G-d.

We need to forgive and set things aright with others around us. Helping others as much as we can, we take this spirit along with us . And there is hope in every human being to change for the better. If they choose to do it, there's no stopping them!

I have been taking care of every single word I say, making sure that it won't harm anyone's feelings.

I learned, strangely enough, the importance of sleeping in the night as opposed to during the day. I used to stay up eating and then sleep because I wasn't working but I was tired all the time. I realized that the night was made for rest.

I learned that you should give your heart to God instead of people

We're all hungry- for love, for peace, for contentment. Keeping away from food curbs unchecked hunger for lesser priorities. Just as Ramadan ends so will the blessing of Life. Stop procrastination with regards to giving Life, every bit of energy we have.

In the Mood of Mourning

[According to Jewish tradition, the month of Av is a month of morning and serious reflection particularly on the destruction of Yerushalayim / Jerusalem. The 9th of Av is a 25-hour fast commemorating the ultimate destruction of our Holy Temple and many other disasters of the Jewish people. This is a reflection on my experience of Av]

I sometimes imagine Al-Quds and Yerushalayim as transparencies projected on the same blank piece of land. They are different worlds inhabiting the same time and the same space originating in two realities. I know that I don’t fully appreciate either. I am very much an outsider to both. Al-Quds, I see from a distance, the dots of worshippers at Al-Aqsa seen from a “safe” distance, Arab children puzzled as I slip by the gate few Jews slip by, or the gold dome overhead as I pray by the ruin of the wall.

Yerushalayim, I know a little better. “Yerushalayims” I should say, the tourist center, home of the fancy institute I attended for a few summers, the somewhat dour religious neighborhood where I stayed, the synagogues tucked into corners pumping out prayer services, places to shop and look cool and be kosher in an outdoor café.

There is the Yerushalayim of Zionist triumphalism that I don’t know so well. When I saw the videos of the Jerusalem Day parade this year, I was acutely aware that I did not understand the pride of ownership and entitlement to G-d’s city.

Right or wrong, my Yerushalayim is the Yerushalayim of the month of Av. It is the Yerushalayim of the old time Jew of the Diaspora. My Yerushalayim is an orphan. My Yerushalayim embodies the brokenness of the world. Like the homeless beggar who has found a fancy fur coat, the external beauties of Yerushalayim only make it look more pathetic. Each new luxury high rise offering the wealthy the authentic Jerusalem experience seems to me, in the mindset of the month of Av, to thinly veil the fragile spiritual city wasting away beneath the fancy garments. The squabbles over Jewish land grabs, the violence that simmers barely beneath the surface where Yerushalayim and Al-Quds inevitably rub shoulders, speaks to me. It reminds me again and again. “This is not it.”

The Temple was destroyed because of baseless hatred.
-Talmud Bavli (Yoma 9b)

Mourning is a strange mode of service of G-d. Mourning Yerushalayim means projecting the transparency of our ancient destroyed city over its modern successor. More importantly, it means piercing through all the transparencies and laying bare the human reality that in Yerushalayim, the center or our world, we are still ruled by baseless hatred. That hatred was the force of destruction that marred our connection to G-d, that destroyed our Holy Temple and sent us to the ends of the earth, as if shoved from the table of our Father. That hatred still corrodes the heart of the world. The channels that once conveyed the light of Yerushalayim to the rest of the world convey a darkness and entropy that is felt in every corner of the world. The un-rectified Yerushalayim is not just a Jewish tragedy it is a universal, even cosmic, tragedy

There will be those who will see “baseless hatred” in narrow national terms. Hatred between fellow Jews caused the destruction. As they say, “you have what to depend on.” It’s true that is certainly how most commentators have probably understood it for most of our history. We have been very inward looking. That has made us very introspective and in many ways extraordinarily attentive to each other’s needs. It has also made us myopic. It is time to consider that maybe baseless hatred is a bigger problem.

Rabbi Yehoshua said: An evil eye, the evil inclination, and hatred of others (lit. of the creations) remove a person from the world.
-Pirkei Avot 2:16

Rashi glosses hatred here as “sinat chinam” – baseless hatred. The very same baseless hatred mentioned in the Talmud, not just of fellow Jews but also of all others.

As Rabbi Shimshon Raphael Hirsch points out here, the term for “others” is simply “briyot” creations. It’s a word that points to the lowest common denominator in mankind, our being creatures. Our respect for human beings originates in the creation of man by G-d as the pinnacle of His creation. We need no other reason not to hate and beyond that no other reason to love.

If we were destroyed, and the world with us, due to baseless hatred, then we shall rebuild ourselves, and the world with us, with baseless love — ahavat chinam.

-Rav Kook (Orot HaKodesh vol. III, p. 324)

Ribbono shel Olam,
Please give us more than vain tears. Let us really feel the brokeness of Av and help us transform that pain into a drive to repair, to really believe that we can repair what is destroyed. May confronting the rule of hatred in ourselves and in our world motivate us to initiate and cultivate the rule of love.