Sue Fishkoff
Published: 10/18/2007
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In her new book “Inventing Jewish
Ritual,” religious studies professor Vanessa Ochs
explores the rise of new Jewish rituals and practices
in America.
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SAN FRANCISCO (JTA) -- Jews who say the Birkat Hamazon, or
prayer after a meal, sing the first few lines to an upbeat melody
recognizable to Jews all over the world.
It’s a well-established ritual that goes back … well,
to when?
Not that far, actually.
This singsong way of saying the prayer was developed as a teaching
device by Mordecai Kaplan, the early 20th century rabbi who
became the founder of Reconstructionist Judaism. It was adopted
by his students and gradually became widespread.
“People think it goes back to the time of Moses,”
quipped Jonathan Sarna, a professor of American Jewish history
at Brandeis University. “Once rituals are around for a
while, we assume they have been around forever.”
Jewish rituals, like those of any other culture, emerge at
specific points to respond to needs and values that are constantly
evolving.
Some last and are absorbed into the general lexicon. Examples
are the Friday night Kabbalat Shabbat service, developed by
the 16th century kabbalists of Safed and now considered sacrosanct,
or mixed seating in the synagogue, an innovation of early 20th
century Reform Judaism.
Other rituals do not have the same staying power and are discarded.
The delicate process of creating and integrating new Jewish
rituals in America today is explored in the new book “Inventing
Jewish Ritual,” by Vanessa Ochs, associate professor of
religious studies at the University of Virginia in Charlottesville.
Ochs examines the genesis and adaptation of many well-accepted
contemporary rituals in American Jewish life, such as baby-naming
ceremonies for girls, adult b’nai mitzvah and rosh hodesh
groups, as well as others just emerging, such as Torah yoga
and alternative uses of the mikvah.
While showing how those that succeed manage to find a hook
for their new practices from within Jewish tradition, thus giving
authenticity to innovation, Ochs points out that American Judaism
is in a particularly fertile period today. New practices are
cropping up with increasing speed in the synagogue and out in
the world.
She attributes that growth to the influence of feminism and
what she calls “democracy,” or the notion that individuals
have the right to develop their own ways of accessing the divine.
Sarna adds that the idea of ritual itself has been rehabilitated,
as early 20th century anthropological disdain for rituals as
a hallmark of primitive cultures slowly mellowed.
“Within a century, the idea of a ritual as something primitive
that should be discarded by moderns has been transvalued into
something that makes us human and should be celebrated,”
he explains.
While it takes time for a new practice to become the norm,
Ochs believes that it happens much faster than it used to, even
in the Orthodox community, which traditionally has been viewed
as the most reluctant to take on new practices. Bat mitzvah
ceremonies, another Kaplan invention, are fairly well the norm
today in Orthodox circles, as are rosh hodesh groups.
On the other hand, those who come up with new ceremonies or
practices rarely refer to them as rituals either because they
don’t recognize, or don’t think they have the right
to recognize, the significance of what they have created.
In fact, Ochs says, most Jewish rituals were developed by Jewish
families in their homes or via other grassroots methods.
One such example involves the hundreds of Torah scrolls, many
rescued from the Holocaust, that have been restored and donated
to congregations in the former Soviet Union in the past decade.
They are usually handed over to the new congregation during
a ceremony constructed for the occasion by the donating and/or
receiving group. Those ceremonies, Ochs suggests, are part of
an emerging ritual.
Project Kesher, an organization of Jewish women activists from
North America and the former Soviet Union, has donated 14 Torah
scrolls to congregations in Russia and Ukraine. Each is handed
over during a festive ceremony in the recipients’ home
city.
The executive director of Project Kesher, Karyn Gershon, says
the women involved “absolutely” are aware that they
are creating a Jewish ritual.
In 2004, when the first six scrolls were donated, Kesher staff
made Torah mantles from fabric purchased on Jerusalem’s
Ben-Yehuda Street combined with pieces of velvet from Russia,
“so each has a piece of Israel and of Russia,” Gershon
explains.
Each donor handing over a scroll was presented with her own
prayer shawl on which Gershon embroidered the name of the city
where her Torah was going to concretize the connection.
A ritual for donating Holocaust Torahs is one thing. But what
about one for buying a new car, which is what Ochs’ 23-year-old
daughter demanded during a recent telephone call.
“She called and said, 'I just sold my car, the guy has
the keys in his hand, what’s the ritual I should do?' ”
Ochs related, laughing at how fully the idea of finding ways
to make anything Jewish has permeated the American Jewish consciousness.
“This generation of young people believes they can use
Jewish language and core beliefs to fashion new rituals,"
she said. "They know it’s not transgressive to do
so."
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