Changing Culture
Summary
"Changing Culture," the final panel of the Ingeborg, Tamara & Yonina
Rennert Women in Judaism Forum, examined feminist cultural
production - from performance to playwriting to poetry - and its impact on
broader social movements. Naomi Scheman, professor of philosophy
at the University of Minnesota, led this discussion with:
- Rebbetzin Hadassah Gross, international lecturer and
motivational speaker;
- Rachel Havrelock, assistant professor of Jewish studies,
University of Illinois at Chicago;
- Faith Jones, Bridges magazine;
- Irena Klepfisz, poet, translator and adjunct associate
professor of women's studies, Barnard College;
- Alisa Solomon, director of the arts concentration, Columbia
University Graduate School of Journalism.
There are things, claims Professor Scheman, that one feels the need
to say that "one just doesn't have the words for." And when you try, you
either "don't make sense or, in the effort to make sense, you end up
betraying what it was you were trying to say. And yet, babbling doesn't
do it. Often, in those circumstances, art of one form or another . . .
is what does it." Scheman continues:
By providing a container that doesn't prematurely force
sense, but which the mind can hold: that's one of the most important
roles that [the] arts play. And that means that they are of special
importance to people who are marginal . . . because being marginal
means, typically, being marginal to the apparatus of sense-making, as
well as to things like economic and political power.
For Rebbetzin Hadassah Gross, the process of sense-making relies
heavily on reclaiming those things that, to many people, don't at first
make sense at all. On nonsense: "I am personally very interested in
nonsense," she said. "In narishkeit. In old stories of old women,
of all the things that this culture thinks [of as] nonsense. Like art."
In relaying a story passed down to her by Yankel Gross, the third of her
six illustrious Hasidic husbands, the Rebbetzin spoke of Truth's
dependence on Parable: in order to be seen and appreciated, the naked,
sometimes ugly, and usually difficult-to-take Truth needs to borrow "a
little bit of jewelry. A jacket, maybe, some makeup" from her more
fabulously attired friend.
Conveying the truth through storytelling is a responsibility that
Rachel Havrelock traces back to her childhood Torah study:
The only commandment given to the [Israelites] in the
midst of [crossing the Jordan River] is: Tell your children a story. It
isn't said once, it's said two times. This commandment to tell the
story, of course, repeats the earlier commandment, when an earlier
generation was crossing the Red Sea, which was another transference,
another moment of the birth of a new generation, a new period of Jewish
history. We could say that the very first commandment of the entire
Jewish tradition is to tell the story.
For a community's stories, she goes on to explain, are intimately
linked to its values: "the custodians of myth, any culture's myth, are
the people who form that culture, the people who influence social
practice and mores."
Poet Irena Klepfisz, however, cautioned both artists and audiences
against a custodial impulse that, in the name of protecting a community,
either simplifies or suppresses the work. Klepfisz lamented the single
and reductive criterion by which much of her work has been judged: "Is
it good for the Jews?" By casting Jewish artists as "the unofficial
image protectors of the Jewish people," art - and its power to provoke, to
challenge, to transform, and to heal - suffers. "I want to be part of a
culture of debate," says Klepfisz, "where art does what it has always
done . . . which is confront the status quo, rudely, crudely, sometimes
very unmusically." Alissa Solomon outlined in particular some of the
ways in which Jewish youth are using the arts to critique the status quo
of establishment Judaism while, at the same time, reclaiming traditions,
practices, and customs from which they previously felt excluded. Jewish
queers from Manhattan to Krakow, in applying their "contemporary
sensibility" to such diverse art forms as Yiddish literature and klezmer
music, have not only made "something new from the proudly proclaimed
margins"; they have also discovered connections to their own Jewish
identities that more institutionally sanctioned routes - such as "a
propagandistic trip to Israel" - failed to make.
As each of the panelists and many audience members noted, the tone
and tenor of the discussion changed remarkably at the mere mention of
Israel. In describing the trials and challenges of publishing an issue
of Bridges magazine dedicated to examining the
Israeli-Palestinian conflict, Faith Jones described the distressing ease
with which cultural work can be derailed by the issues it raises. The
circumscribed conversations (if not the outright silence) that surround
the topic of Israel not only result in a lack of funding and support for
organizations and individuals daring enough to broach the issue; they
also, Jones expects, lead young people who feel unwelcome in Jewish
communities where "they're not allowed to talk critically about Israel"
to leave those communities. Rachel Havrelock insisted that "the
defensiveness on this issue and the anger associated with it is shutting
down the very conversations that we need to be having. Not only among
Jews, but also between Jews and Arabs and Muslims and leftists of all
stripes," while the Rebbetzin Hadassah Gross offered:
I am fascinated that the dynamics in the room changed
when Israel is discussed, and with contention. Israel is for me, yes,
it's a country. But Israel means to wrestle with God. It's a state of
mind . . . It's a big issue, Israel. It's a big responsibility. But this
conversation, interestingly, went from talking about us here at home, to
something else. And our responsibility is looking at our own
kishkas first. The Israel inside.
And so, we must wrestle. Wrestle with ourselves, yes, but also with
our communities and our congregations. We must wrestle to shape our
religious faiths, practices, and cultures so that they reflect the
diversity of our lived lives. So that they honor both tradition and our
commitment to fundamental human rights. So that they accommodate our
commitments as feminists. For some, this will mean running for elected
office or educating the next generation of Torah scholars; others will
create alternative religious spaces and rituals or write plays that
challenge and change the way we see the world and our place in it. There
is, as we saw throughout the course of this enlightening two-day
conference, much work to be done. But there are countless ways to do it,
and we are, each of us, determined to get it done.
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