debka_notion | Aleinu

I really should be going to bed now, or really, a good hour ago. But there was a paper to finish, and this has been on my mind of late... (And if I'm up, I should be cooking for the potluck Shabbat dinner tomorrow. But instead I'll write this more quickly that it deserves, and cook insanely tomorrow afternoon.)

So, I've been thinking about Aleinu a lot lately. I remember telling

fleurdelis28 that I didn't think that Aleinu was really saying anything, a Very long time ago. That was before I had a clue about what I was trying to read through in the second paragraph. And I wasn't all too sure abotu the point of going back and reiterating "Gee G-d, you're great, we're different and special, and by the way, G-d, you made all of Creation" after a lot of other prayers many of which include these ideas at various points. And to be honest, much as I like and find certain parts of the cool-down (post AMidah) section of the morning liturgy, I don't do the "cool down" thing too well: I start to get impatient. I love the when-we're-not-too-happy-and-not-too-sad Psalm, but it's hard to get into Psalms again after the Amidah. But regardless...

My Hebrew has slowly improved over the last few years, and I've learned a lot about theology and the like. And so- yes, the Aleinu as a whole, and most especially the second paragraph make all sorts of theological problems. And I really liked the idea that I got in Liturgy class last year where the two paragraphs are sort of an attempt at parallel between creation in the past and our hope for redemption in the future (which would work even better if the bowing shtick were at the end of the first paragraph. But it Still works quite well). But well, that just brings me back to the same problem- it's an awfully We're-Right-You're-Wrong idea of redemption. And well, I tend to feel that when we really merit redemption (as much as I tend to actually think seriously about redemption in that way: it's something I believe in, but which really doesn't impact my life much, so I haven't thought about it enough. I really ought to. That and the issue of the afterlife if there is one. And related issues.) it might be, well, Because we aren't quite so Self focused. So it feels a little bit like a contradiction.

And yet- there's a part of me that really, really Likes that paragraph. It would make life so much simpler. But I'm not sure it would work- if everyone believed what we believe (where we = Jews, or some such definition), well, there'd still be huge amounts of disagreement. But even so, I feel like that paragraph is my chance to out my little inner religiously egocentric self, and give it some air. On the one hand, I'm afraid that it will get to grow outside of the little space where it is acceptable, if not at all admirable. On the other hand- the third hand?- maybe giving it this out, and letting it be a tremendously legitimate out, will be enough to contain it, and to harness that energy for working towards positive change in the world- one of my real weaknesses, I think. (certainly so on a large scale. Small scale I can do, but somehow I'm not at all that counts in the eyes of the world.)

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

One could read it another way entirely: The first paragraph is the exclusivist one that seemingly gives Jews a monopoly on truth and sets them apart. The second describes a future in which there will be an equalization of the world's peoples.

(I'm teaching this in my Sunday school liturgy class just now, actually.)

ALthough if you read it completely straight and unembellished, I'm not seeing anywhere that says anything but that we're obligated to thank G-d for making us different; is there anything that actually says something that claims that we're therefore better? One could read it as a powerful text for accepting and relishing diversity: if it's good for a people to be separate and different, might it not also be good for individuals to be different?

The "distinct = better" paradigm is exactly what I'm trying to avoid in my class. Unfortunately, those of us who grew up with stories of the civil rights movement have a natural tendency to associate separation with inequality. (I think this goes a long way toward explaining many people's visceral reactions to a down-the-center mechitzah.)

Yet another reading: We are different because we are obligated to thank God.

Well, you have to ignore the omitted line, which does seem to specify the way in which we think we're better. So you could read it that way, but I think you'd have to acknowledge that that wasn't the original intention.

"Better" or "priveleged"? The line strikes me as having more pity in it than anything else.

I guess it depends whether we think that God somehow made us more receptive to/destined for monotheism, or just clued us in.

Aka- is the Jewish soul different than non-Jewish souls or not? I get the shivers from the seemingly popular idea that the reason that people convert is that they have Jewish souls that just got a bit misplaced...

Not to mention the idea that the souls of converts are the product of midnight sex between the Patriarchs and Matriarchs. Though that's less chilly and more just weird.

Midrash would suggest that God checked with all the other nations, and found us to be the most receptive in the first place.

(By "us" I mean "our spiritual progenitors," of course. If we were they, we wouldn't spent so much time reminding God that our ancestors were relatively cooperative people.)

Never meant to suggest that it was the original intention, but I wrote this while I was reading about fairly radical reinterpretations of Qor'an, which admittedly, that author wanted to say were the original interpretation, but still- if one is working on the idea that interpretation is part of the process of holiness/relating to G-d (a big assumption, but possibly relevant putting out loud considering my own context), then it could be valid.

I think it is some part of it, but I'm not sure if that extends to interpreting liturgy that we know was humanly written by people we know meant something dramatically different, and that doesn't have the sort of artistic depth that could lead you to feel that maybe on some level it contains a divine spark. I think the seventy-faces approach works much better with things that are considered to be in some measure from God. (I mean, everything is from God in some sense, but I'd draw a distinction between, say, the Psalms and a general statement of allegiance.) If you can't at least find some ambiguity to work with, it might be better to just say it again in your own words.

Aleinu

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