Bridges

“A person walks in life on a very narrow bridge. The most important thing is not to be afraid.”

Rebbe Nachman of Breslov

Tziporah:

On the fall harvest festival of Sukkot—once the most central holiday of the Jewish calendar cycle—we observe the custom of inviting Ushpizin (guests) into our sacred space.  Each year, we ask friends and family to bring a photograph of someone with whom they would like to share a meal. Their honored guest can be alive or dead, or a biblical, fictional or historical figure…anyone at all.  As Thanksgiving approaches and we celebrate the fall harvest as a nation, I am reminded of our Sukkot celebration earlier this season, when I hosted Grace and Yasmina—and their Ushpizin—at my home.  Their choice of guests reflects their deep understanding of the subtext of our interfaith work: We are striving to connect with each other, with our ancestors, with our community and with God.  We are holding hands as we walk together across the very narrow bridge, so that we will not be afraid.  This Thanksgiving, as I offer thanks for the abundance of my harvest, I am also grateful for their wisdom and friendship.

Grace:

I invited writer Flannery O’Connor to accompany me into Tziporah’s sukkah. This writer of some of America’s greatest short stories certainly understood, in her personal life, the meaning of a makeshift hut intended to remind the Jewish people of God’s providence throughout the Exodus journey.  In her early twenties, O’Connor was stricken with a crippling disease that compelled her to move from what must have seemed a most promising life among the literati of NYC to her mother’s dairy cattle farm in rural Georgia.  Yet, in the red clay—and even in the manure of a hen house—O’Connor found a Land of Promise.  As I celebrated Sukkot with women whose friendship has been manna for me, I was reminded that God’s daily provisions are sufficient for whatever “wilderness experience” we are called to face and for each narrow bridge we are asked to cross. Abundant reason for thanksgiving!

Yasmina:

I wanted to invite a person who could revive some much-needed values in our present day; someone who saw beauty in all humanity, understood our common roots, and stood for the rights of justice and equality.[1] I picked an individual whom I thought best exemplified these virtues. He defied preconceptions and laid the foundation for a wider perspective while crossing a very narrow bridge. He contributed in freeing minds and souls in his time, and is still helping people forge their way across new bridges today; our own interfaith group is a testament to that.  Al-hamdu lillah: all praise, all thanks are due to God, and Muslims utter these words not only in prayer, but also in answer to the greeting “How are you?” This is because we recognize the human spirit as one of God’s countless and endless bounties. Tziporah welcomed that spirit of Abraham Lincoln, and me, into our Sukkot celebration.

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[1]  The Prophet Muhammad [Peace and Blessings be upon him] taught in his farewell sermon: “All mankind is from Adam and Eve.  An Arab has no superiority over a non-Arab, nor a non-Arab has any superiority over an Arab; also a white has no superiority over black, nor a black has any superiority over white, except by piety and good action.”

Take a Breath!

Six days you shall do your work, and on the seventh day you shall cease, so that your ox and your donkey will rest, and the son of your maidservant and the sojourner will be refreshed.

Exodus 23:12

Tziporah:

The observance of the Sabbath is mentioned in many verses of the Torah, but this one is my favorite.  It proposes that we stop working on the Sabbath not only to allow ourselves time to rest, but also to allow our work animals and laborers an opportunity to shore up their strength, because all living creatures need rest.  The biblical scholar Everett Fox translates the last word of this verse, vayinfash, as “pause-for-breath.”[1]  This definition of Sabbath rest resonates for me.  Since my college days, I have taken advantage of this weekly opportunity to turn off my phone and power down my computer, close my writer’s notebook and lock my car in the garage.  Through the years, people who learned of my strict observance of the Sabbath have asked me if it’s difficult not being able to do laundry or run errands on Saturday. It’s true that I have occasionally imagined being more productive by foregoing my Sabbath rest.  But these thoughts are fleeting.  Observing the Sabbath refreshes and recharges my spirit; this weekly commitment to pausing for breath has changed my life.

Grace:

Christians share with Jews the scriptural commandment to honor the Sabbath. With numerous variations, we traditionally observe the Sabbath on Sunday, which we call “the Lord’s Day.” In communal worship, we understand the Sabbath as a “little Easter,” an experience of spiritual resurrection, refreshment, and renewal. I have to say, however, that the concept of physical rest, which Tziporah expresses in the pause-for-breath time she takes each week, is often lost in my own Sabbath practice. Tziporah’s example inspires me to realize my need to honor the “take a breath” in all its fullness. Taking Sunday (or another day) to “close down” and not just “rev up,” would enable me to express in practice my conviction that spiritual health is intimately linked to the physical, mental, and emotional well-being that God wants for all God’s people—and God’s creatures!

Yasmina:

The Quran mentions the Sabbath as a commandment to the Jewish people.[2]  For Muslims, the essence of the Sabbath as a day for connecting with God has two aspects.  First, when practicing Muslims put on hold whatever they are doing and turn to God at different times throughout every day to perform their five prayers, they are observing an aspect of Sabbath.  In fact, the Arabic word for prayer is Salat, which means connection. Furthermore, Friday is a day that brings numerous purposeful actions, including the congregational sermon and communal Salat; during that time, Muslim men are prohibited from working. Friday is also a day for increased remembrance of God and reaching out to the community. The feeling that Tziporah describes as the fruit of her observance of the Sabbath is the same sense of peace I feel as an observant Muslim. This feeling is derived from the highest purpose a faithful person can have, and that is to obey the commands of God in order to seek His pleasure.

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[1] This word, which appears only twice in the Torah, is also used in Exodus 31:17 to describe God’s taking a breath on the seventh day after completing the Creation.

[2] See 2:65, 4:47, 4:154, 7:163 and 16:124.

Clothed in Righteousness

O children of Adam, We have bestowed upon you clothing to conceal your private parts and as adornment. But the clothing of righteousness - that is best. That is from the signs of God that perhaps they will remember.

(al-Araf 7:26)

Yasmina:

According to Islam, appropriate attire is one component of an ideal, righteous society.[1] While some may consider covering the hair and body a burden, a backwards tradition or even a sign of oppression, as a woman who adheres to this tradition I know it is quite the opposite. The hijab (veil) shifts the focus from a woman’s external appearance to her intellect and internal beauty, and thus contributes to the betterment of society by elevating the level of social interactions between people. Women who choose to wear the hijab are highly motivated to obey God and honor His commands; their sense of humility and selflessness is heightened because they live in a state of constant awareness of their Creator and Sustainer. As humans seeking righteousness in our lives, we are often thwarted by our own shortcomings.  The religious teachings regarding appropriate dress are designed to help us reach beyond ourselves toward God.

Grace:

I am heartbroken by misguided criticism of any religious practice, including the wearing of the veil, whose intent is to direct one’s focus to God. Indeed, images of a veiled Mary, mother of Jesus, influenced the Christian practice of women wearing head coverings, especially at worship, for centuries. Still, head covering as a sign of a woman’s submission to God became equated in early Christian dogma with their submission to human authority. The belief arose that a man’s head was to be kept bare before God, while a woman’s head would remain covered in submission to her husband.  As a Christian woman who sees herself validated by God as a full partner with her husband and others, I (like Yasmina) see submission to God as central to the righteous life, and I applaud any religious practice that, in demonstrating true humility, is liberating rather than oppressive.

Tziporah:

Having spent several weeks reflecting on the words of Yasmina and Grace, I remain conflicted about how to respond.  My sense is that in both Islam and Christianity the practice of women covering their heads was adopted from Judaism and adapted to be more appealing. Rabbinic sources prescribe the covering of married women’s hair in public to ensure that anyone other than her husband will not be enticed by her appearance.  This clear mandate of tzniut (modesty) applies only to married women. A parallel custom of men covering their heads—in humble recognition that God is above them—also developed in Judaism, but it never pertained to women.  Today, women who regard themselves as equal to men before God may choose to wear a kippah (also known as a yarmulke or skullcap), and married women may reject the custom of covering their hair as outdated.  However, in both cases, because the women are reinterpreting centuries-old tradition, they may be accused of being arrogant—rather than humble—as they attempt to transform religious norms and infuse old ideas with new meaning.

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[1] The actual details of proper dress are addressed in other verses of the Quran and various Hadiths.