The Geography Lesson

by Susan Weinberg 

Tonight began with a geography lesson.  The Torah is quite specific about the boundaries of our covenant with God.  First we are promised in Genesis 28:14 that "thy seed shall be as the dust of the earth and spread abroad to the west, and to the east, and to the north and to the south." Meryll pointed out that the Hebrew word doesn't actually mean"spread", but rather "to break through," a much more incendiary interpretation.

What boundaries do you live with? she asked.

"A house, our body, our city, our counties, our states" we replied.

Our attention was drawn to a very specific passage in Numbers 34:3-12
which lays out the boundaries of Israel. We were directed to the handout (The Covenantal Promise) where we found a map (p4).  As we traced the parameters outlined in this passage we noted the promised border and how it related to the real border. It encompassed a much larger section than the actual Israeli border reaching as high as Damascus. The borders of the covenant are defined by where people lived  ( Genesis: 15:18-25 ) and by a triangular relationship between God, Abraham and the land (Genesis 12:7).  So why this variance between promised and actual?  Perhaps the Israelites didn't deliver what they were supposed to?  Or perhaps it does match more closely than we acknowledge for Ishmael was Abraham's seed also.  Rabbi Benjamin Segal attempts to answer this question noting that because of this triangular bargain with God it always straddles "the real and the ideal".

We began to trace the history of modern day Israel beginning with the UN's partition plan in 1947 on the handout (p8).  It was an odd way to shape a country with Palestinians in the middle dividing the country into many separate segments, an untenable structure from the standpoint of security.  Apparently this division reflected concentrations of where particular people already lived.  I found myself thinking of our recent election with divisions between cities and rural.  If we were to divide our country by those divisions it would look quite similar to the Israeli partition.  This same pattern is found in Africa, India and Pakistan, also areas that were once under colonial rule.

Maps, maps and more maps.  We turned to the map of the separation barrier (p11)  Meryll noted that sheep are not bound by the wall, for there are  underground passageways for sheep to graze. We zoomed in even deeper to look at Jerusalem (p12) and the mishmash of neighborhoods that composes it.

Prior to our session we had been asked to observe the live cam of the Wall.  What were the divisions we witnessed?  The wall itself, the plaza, the wall between the men and women, the tunnel by the wall by which Arabs can go to the Temple Mount.  Many boundaries are defined by gender and religious identity.

Now it was time to imagine our own map of Israel.  how should it be divided, mapped and bordered? This was to be a dream map, but we struggled with the impracticability of dreams. What would we want?  "Peace and safety," we replied.   Then we shifted to city planning mode and decided on a pinwheel structure much like Paris.  We would put the core services, green space and religious buildings in the center, serving the branches that surrounded them.  Layers, we needed layers that would allow us to keep our differences, our culture and history, but overlap with our neighbors.  Soon we had a multilayered structure rising into the sky.

Our neighbors had a different approach to this project replete with rivers, oceans, native land and music.  Palestine and Israel were mirror images of each other. Still others opted for no borders with Lake Minnetonka in the middle.

Or perhaps fresh water on the borders and access to water routes to create an island.  Even in this island of coexistence there were battlements, convinced we couldn't depend on the rest of the world to leave us in our bubble.

And then of course there were the post-minimalists, lost in discussion, who didn't breach that white surface that taunted them.

We began the first of our artist led discussions with Rony Szleifer taking us into an exploration of passages that remind us that we were strangers in the land of Egypt and thus should not torment a stranger nor oppress him  (Exodus 22:20-21)  We are further reminded of why that is, for we know the soul of a stranger because of our experience in being an outsider, a stranger in the land of Egypt (Exodus 23:9)  Finally we are exhorted to love him as ourself, once again because we were strangers. (Deuteronomy 10:18-19)  It is in our otherness that we learn empathy. Roni asked us to consider where we draw borders in life and in art.  Where do we erect our personal walls that move with us? How much are they values, how much stereotypes? (You can find his presentation here)

Finding Passage

By Susan Weinberg

When I entered the lab I was struck with the profusion of red "I voted" stickers.  It was election day and our group was well represented at the polls.  Our theme of Insider-Outsider seemed very relevant although which was which remained in question.

We began our discussion with the personal, the place where most of us live.  Have you ever felt like an outsider? As a Jew or as an artist?  How did it make you feel?

Several of us talked about feeling like an outsider as a solitary Jew among non-Jews, representing our ethnicity to those who often had little exposure to Jews.  Some of us also spoke about feeling like an outsider even among other Jews.  The local Jewish community, where everyone knew each other from growing up here, wasn't always felt to be as accessible to "outsider" Jews, an outsider within outsiders. With that brief discussion to get us immersed in our theme, we moved into our text study.

As someone with only enough Hebrew proficiency to read tombstones, I have often wished I had the ability to dissect words.  So often the clues to deeper meaning lie in their derivation. Understanding Hebrew passages has often rested on looking to the origin and use of specific words so I  appreciate the guidance of our facilitators in this skill which I sadly lack.  

Rabbi Davis led us in an exploration of the Biblical term Ivri (עברי) which means to traverse.  (handout-Jews as Insiders-Outsiders)  The word "Ivri" comes from the word "ever" which means "the other side".

One of the ways we explore the meaning of a word is to look to the context in which it is used. There are several meanings that are implied,  geographic,  theological and genealogical.  The first relates to
Abraham's origin in Ur and his subsequent travels into Canaan.  He literally came from the "other side" of the Jordan River.  This is best illustrated in Genesis 11:31 which speaks of this movement from Ur to Canaan.  Rashi makes the distinction that Abraham actually went "inside"the land referencing Genesis 12:5-6. He didn't just pass through.

It is in Genesis 14:13 that we find the first mention of the word Ivri where it references Abram the Hebrew (Ivri). The word means the wanderer, the one from beyond, and is used thirty times.  In Genesis 40:15 we find the word again, also as a geographic reference to the land of the Hebrews.

The theological use of the word is found in Jonah 1:8-9 when he describes himself as a Hebrew who worships the Lord, the God of heaven who made both sea and land.  Here he is distinct from his neighbors, a non-conformist. Midrash notes "all the world was on one side (eiver) and he on the other side."

The genealogical perspective is based on Abraham being descended from Ever, grandson of Noah.

We gathered in our small groups once again to wrestle with the question of the positive and negative aspects of being an outsider and to share our responses to readings in a handout -Readings on Ivri.

As outsiders we are not sucked into group think and are skeptics by nature. Conversely we can easily become the target.  It was suggested that we could become overly committed to a contrarian position particularly on such issues as the politics of Israel. The reading by Jonathan Sacks that spoke to many of us was his discussion of sacred discontent, the contradiction between order and chaos. He notes that "Judaism begins not in wonder that the world is, but in protest that the world is not as it ought to be."

For our closing exercise we had been asked to bring an image that spoke to boundaries.  Our group included work by Joseph Cornell on the Celestial Navigation by Birds, bounded by the box that contained this construction. Stars offered both sailors and birds touch points to guide their navigation.   Other work included poetry that spoke of a mezuzah at the entry to a doorway, marking a boundary and inviting entrance.  A Sephardic song  spoke of leaving one place and going to another where the singer was unknown.  Others brought individual work addressing the boundaries that separate Israel from the lands that surround it. David Jordan Harris knit these images together, noting that the common thread that connected much of this work was the theme of passage between two places.  The artistic act brings attention to this movement.  As artists we take an experience and find a way to convey it artistically, creating a passage that allows others to also gain entrance.

We closed our session with a different sticker than those "I voted" ones with which we had entered.  Robyn gave each of us a red sticker with a flame.  In light of subsequent national events I found myself thinking back to Sacks' commentary of Judaism protesting that the world is not as it should be. I would suggest that we keep that image of the flame in mind as we seek to keep the flame of Tikkun Olam, healing the world, alive.