The Power of Souvenirs, Personal and National

Last week, I heard a high school rebbe relate to his students the standard explanations for why Jews eat dairy on Shavuos, including the idea that we are meant to have a dairy meal and a meat meal in order to require separate loaves of bread, mirroring the ritual שתי הלחם, two loaves of bread brought in the Beis haMikdash on Shavuos.

One of the students challenged his rebbe on the grounds that such memorials are irrelevant; in a world that has not known such an offering for nearly two thousand years, why bother commemorating it in this way? Of course, the student meant to challenge not only this custom, but many similar commemorative customs.

My instinctive response was that we have these commemorations because we value that past and long to return to it. But then, on Shabbos, I happened to notice a small, unfinished wood night table my Rebbetzin and I have had since we got married. It was originally part of a desk in my Rebbetzin's apartment when she was in school. We took the desk apart when we moved into our first place, and this piece of it has moved with us ever since. We could easily get rid of it - it doesn't really serve much of a purpose at this point - but I feel like the souvenir anchors me.

I am not only the person I am today, I have a story, a life, a continuum and a history. I am anchored; making a decision to uproot and alter my existence would be an uprooting of more than just a moment. I am more than a cartoon on a single page in a flipbook, an individual moment connected to other individual moments creating the illusion of a narrative; my souvenir, my memories, demonstrate that I am a whole story.

Some people call such souvenirs "baggage", in a negative sense, because they can forestall necessary, refreshing change - but anchors have a positive aspect as well, keeping us from floating adrift.

Which brings me back to the two loaves of bread, and other such national souvenirs.

There are times when I wonder about the evolution of halachah and machshavah (Jewish thought), managed as it is by human beings who are doing their best to be faithful to a tradition. We are easily swayed by today's isms, all claims of fealty to masorah aside.

In the realm of modern Jewish thought, Rav Hirsch and Rav Kook and Rav Soloveitchik were all quite clearly influenced by their philosophical contemporaries. Halachah, too, displays such influences, ואכמ"ל. And beyond the big thinkers - in hundreds of small communities around the world, despite the Internet and higher Jewish education, Judaism tends to become more or less what the rabbi of that time and place says it is. There is a sense that the inmates really can take over the asylum, overthrowing what is there overnight.

Here, too, the souvenir is valuable as an anchor. These objects and their rituals are our anchors, reminding us that we have a past, a continuum, a history, and that changing it is not an uprooting of a moment, but of a whole story. This, too, may be rejected as "baggage" - but I see great positives in the anchor as well.

The lost art of bold ideas?

I've read and re-read Rabbi Nathan Lopes Cardozo's pair of essays on The Art of Bold Ideas (part 1 and part 2), but I must admit that the author's thinking is beyond me.

Two thoughts:
1. It seems to me that the author inappropriately conflates a range of frustrations (intellectual laziness, foolish certitude, addiction to information as opposed to knowledge, religious defensiveness, poor teaching, etc) under one heading (lack of bold ideas).

2. In writing off the many foibles of our generation as a "lack of bold ideas", R' Cardozo not only does his many causes a disservice, but he also ignores reality.

Sectors within 'Orthodoxy' of the past two generations have seen several major changes; some of these have affected only some of Orthodoxy, and some of them have affected the whole:

* An embrace of the State of Israel and Zionism on practical and philosophical levels

* Social engagement with secular Jewry - a marked change from much of European Orthodox culture in the 19th century

* Acceptance of a liberal arts education in Orthodox circles

* Political engagement with the non-Jewish world on a level not seen for many centuries

* Development of women's religious education and secular education, including the achievement of advanced certification in both areas

* Shift of the center of halachic authority from Europe to North America to Israel

* Funding of Orthodox institutions by non-Orthodox Jewish institutions

* Translation of Torah - both verbal translation and philosophical translation - to appeal to the masses

And more; this is just a quick list.

In fact, it might be argued that we need a generation of consolidation, for that which changes too quickly loses its center of gravity. This would no doubt frustrate those who champion change and call for revolution, but it may be a necessity nonetheless.