A New York’Nik Retreat

By: Anna Bennett

So, where was AVODAH New York  last weekend? A seriously good question for anyone to be asking…

We were in a fall wonderland of leaves changing and great singing, fireplaces and long walks, with a labyrinth in our backyard and enough laughter to kill any boggart.

We were in the Hudson Valley.

The first weekend of November, my fellow New York’Niks (as we like to be called, say it out loud a couple times, it might make you giggle), went on our fall retreat. This is the beauty of AVODAH.  We spend weeks working with those who need our help, often feeling defeated in our inability to help all of them, and then, we also have the luxury of spending time with people who feel the exact same way, who also happen to be the people that make you laugh harder than anyone else, and allow you to cry louder than you ever thought you needed.

I work as a college advisor for a non-profit connected to a night and day high school for transfer students. These transfer students are new immigrants trying to master English, an incredible challenge for students who usually already know two or more languages. Often, they have already graduated from high school in their home country.  Or they are matriculated transfer students, who, for whatever reason, were unable to finish high school their first time around.

Because my students all have so much life experience and many are around my age, the authority I have over these young men and women is somewhat difficult to come to terms with. One of my co-workers, a young woman (21-years-old) who graduated from our school last year and who is now a freshman at Barnard, asked me the other day, “What makes you qualified to do this job?” And I had an incredibly lame answer: “Well, I’ve been to college?”

After our retreat, if she asks me again, I can say, rather simply, that I know how to work in a community and how to listen to others, and that is what makes me qualified for this job.

This weekend, we spent a lot of time trying to learn about how to listen. Simple enough sounding, but really much more complicated than you might imagine.  Today, during a training at my work, I was told that to “actively listen” is a clinical skill set and something you must learn.

Have you ever listened to someone tell a deeply personal story and not only refrain from asking questions, but deliberately try not to think of them?  Learning to trust that your partner will tell you what you need to know in their time really is a skill that not everyone has and one that many people may never have the time to discover.  We also started to discover our own triggers, things that upset us for no apparent reason, what causes them, and ways to work through these triggers.

In our first week of AVODAH we were asked to try and “assume goodwill” in all the work we do and in the way we work together, and we finally are, as a group, not only saying that we will try to assume goodwill, but all actually doing it.

The New York'Nicks during their retreat

Anna Bennett is from New York, NY and attended New York University. As an AVODAH New York Corps member, she is the College Advisor at Comprehensive Development, Inc. (CDI). In partnership with Manhattan Comprehensive Night and Day High School, CDI provides students who prematurely ended their high school education with unprecedented academic and social service support so they can graduate and succeed as adults.

An Ignited Spark: One Jew’s Encounter with the Divine

By: Elissa Martel

My friends and I used to affectionately call the community we grew up in Baruchline (Brookline, MA being it’s real name). We’d sometimes use the term “Little Jerusalem” to describe our central commercial hub, featuring a number of kosher restaurants, a handful of synagogues, a Kabbalah center, and a Judaica store. Depending upon your persuasion, or your relationship to your Judaism, you might even think that the independent bookstore, beloved indie movie-theater, as well as the high concentration of Chinese and Asian-fusion restaurants are somehow a reflection of Brookline’s strong, secular Jewish community. I think I’ve always seen all of these bits of the landscape as somehow working together to put the “Baruch” in Brookline.

I now find myself approaching my Judaism from a different place. A few months ago, I wouldn’t have guessed that my first blog-post about my “AVODAH Experience” would feature Judaism so prominently. There is so much else I could say, but I have found myself so struck by this pluralistic Jewish journey I’m embarking upon. Being around so many young Jewish people, from such vastly different upbringings than my own, has been incredibly eye opening, not to mention living in Brooklyn, which is home to every flavor of Judaism imaginable.

Since becoming an Avodahnik, I’ve witnessed the passing of Jewish time in such unique ways. For one thing, I’ve never really celebrated Sukkot. My last Sukkot memory involves being invited into a quickly-assembled sukkah by a Chabadnik proselytizing at Wesleyan my senior year. It was an amusing interaction, and I figured I was pegged for my dark, curly hair. I never really considered what connection could have existed between us.

The following spring semester I took a class called “Contemporary Radical Jewish Thought” (taught by two soon-to-be Avodaniks) in which we learned a lot about Hasidism and Chabad. The image of every Jewish person in the world containing this divine spark just waiting to be ignited—regardless of religious observance or faith—is one that has really stuck with me.

I’ve been feeling some kind of spark recently…and of all strange times to feel it was on the bus from Clinton Hill to Williamsburg. It was a Sunday, toward the end of Sukkot, and I remember seeing all of these large, wooden structures every few blocks, right smack in the middle of the sidewalk. Later that night, I came upon a family of Hasidic Jews, just hanging out on their front stoop. Little kids were playing in the street. As I walked on, I came across more families, going from one place to the next. Then, I heard Hebrew chanting. It sounded like it was coming from some kind of loudspeaker in the distance, like a Call to Prayer. And even though I couldn’t understand it, it was so beautiful, so soothing.

I was with a non-Jewish friend, and I kept saying to her, “I wonder why all of the Jews are out partying so late! What’s going on?” I gazed up at a nearby apartment building and noticed all of these amazing sukkahs built on people’s balconies, making walls where there were none: out of panels, sheets, and Israeli flags, all lit up in contrast to the silhouettes of people behind them. It dazzled me, and so clearly illustrated the symbol of the sukkah as a temporary structure to be built anywhere, with whatever you have.

(This isn’t actually a picture I took, but I thought it exemplifies what I’m describing.)

I realized the sidewalk structures were sukkahs too, filled with light and laughter, long dining room tables, and people pouring in and out, taking complete ownership of public spaces. Although I was observing this celebration from a distance, something about it felt so familiar. I thought of my own bayit’s sukkah (at the AVODAH house) that we had just built and decorated together. And in some small way, this made me feel like I wasn’t just another curious onlooker, but someone with a connection to this proud and visible ritual.

My other recent encounter with this spark of Jewish interconnectedness came when I participated in the Occupy Simchat Torah service at Wall Street. The Jews in this crowd looked more like me, but I still felt a palpable difference when someone offered me a corner of their siddur (their prayer book) to look on with them. I can’t read Hebrew, and I don’t know how to daven, or pray in the traditional way. While this may have bothered me in the past, I realized that there were so many meaningful, spiritual things that I could do as one of over a hundred Jews that were brought to this communal, ritual gathering. I could participate in the call-and-response style of prayer. I could link arms with my fellow Avodahniks—past and present—keeping warm while we sang and swayed. I could do the hora on Wall Street! Being in this joyous, politicized, occupied Jewish space was completely invigorating. I felt so lit up by the sparks of energy flowing between hands as we danced around the Torah on a street in Manhattan.

Although these moments are different, they both illustrate unique perspectives on Jewish ritual space and community. In some ways, the construction of sukkahs on private porches, balconies, and most notably, city sidewalks, is a radical takeover of space; one might even say an occupation. Maybe the Orthodox community of Williamsburg wouldn’t see their form of worship in this light. But one thing that I can say is that their visibility and intensity is inspiring for this Baruchliner. And through this year with AVODAH, I hope to continue to explore new ways of expressing Jewish ritual and tradition.

Elissa Martel is from Brookline, MA and attended Wesleyan University. As an AVODAH New York Corps member, she is a Student Enrichment Associate at the Urban Assembly School for Law and Justice, a college-preparatory school with a focus on law and justice.

Kol Nidrei at Occupy Wall Street

By: Rachel Van Thyn

After some initial hemming and hawing, I decided to join my roommate for Kol Nidrei on Wall Street.  It is not that I take issue with public prayer (or prayer in general) or the protesters downtown. But I have been to protests and gatherings that are sometimes co-opted or taken over by other causes, and I was wary about what could happen. You show up for one reason, and all of a sudden people around you are chanting or saying things you aren’t sure you agree with. However, I reasoned that a group of people gathering for the non-violent purpose of prayer ran little chance of that kind of appropriation, or for interference from others. I didn’t have any particular responsibilities for Yom Kippur leading, so I hoped I could represent some of my friends or fellow seminary classmates in their stead—many of whom expressed that they would have been there in a heartbeat, had circumstances afforded it. In Abraham Joshua Heschel terms, I prayed with my feet.

Regardless, I wasn’t entirely sure what to expect. And I am still processing different sights, sounds, and experiences from the evening. But that night I found:

• People engaging in worship: Many who may not have had the opportunity or ability to go elsewhere on this holy day.
• A vast range of people: Old and young, ranging in political affiliations and religious practices.
• Joy: People celebrating the freedom to pray, standing in solidarity in community with others.
• Recommitment: People committing themselves to doing better, asking for forgiveness for not fully seeing humanity when in front of them, and calling for the recommitment and responsibility of everyone to make true and lasting change.
• Cacophony of voices: People acting as human microphones for others so everyone could participate; a range of melodies and words that spanned multiple spectrums, both religious and secular.
• Inclusion: People making room for individual practices, time for introspection, and widening the space for a variety of sentiments about why they were there and what they believed.
• Values: People living out Jewish and human ideals, heeding the prophetic call to support the stranger, the hungry, and the needy in their midst.

It certainly left me a great deal to contemplate. As I went to synagogue the next morning, the voices of the hundreds of people present rang in my ears: Aleinu—it is upon us to make the world a better place. Aleinu—it is upon us to not remain silent. Aleinu—it is upon us to show our children a more just world. Aleinu—it is upon us to do this because no matter our background, we have the responsibility to help others, to acknowledge our own transgressions and to attempt forgiveness for those who have wronged us. Our future depends on it.

Avinu Malkeinu—let the new year be a good year for us.

Rachel Van Thyn originally hails from Toronto, Canada, but moved to New York in 2004 to participate in AVODAH. Her placement was with Project Renewal, helping previously homeless folks with various issues prepare to re-enter the workforce. After her time in AVODAH, Rachel held several positions in the Reform Movement, including 7 years of work in their summer camps. She then joined AVODAH’s staff as their Communications Associate in NYC. Rachel is currently in rabbinical school at Hebrew Union College and works as a Rabbinic Intern at Central Synagogue.

A Farewell Poem

Avital Aboody is from Sherman Oaks, CA and attended UC Berkeley. As a New York Corps member, she served as a Tenant Organizer at Urban Homesteading Assistance Board (UHAB).

This piece originally appeared on The SurRealEstate.org here.

The files are all transferred, the loose ends all tied up
I’ve parted ways with tenants, and tonight we’ll toast a full cup
To my wonderful year with UHAB, which today will sadly end
But the housing fight continues until the banks are forced to bend

I thank you faithful readers for giving us your time
And hope you’ve learned a thing or two bout organizing on a dime
This year we’ve had our share of ups and downs and in betweens
But as the tenants grow even stronger we know we can only succeed

Before this job I theorized about the trials of movement building
But this year I stood on the ground, chanting and poster wielding

Where I go from here is still unclear, but there’s one thing I know for sure
I’ll carry this experience with me; my conviction is deep and pure.

Housing is a human right! We won’t let you forget
That tenants have a voice and we won’t quit til needs are met!

I’ll sign off here and send my love to allies far and wide
Keep pushing, keep believing, because justice is on our side!

The 2010-2011 Corps members moved out of their batim (houses) yesterday. Mazal Tov to all of them as they transition into their next phase building the social justice community.

What Wakes Me Up in the Morning

Ryan Gerber is from Teaneck, NJ and attended the College of New Jersey. He spoke about his experience as an AVODAH Corps member at the New York City Leadership Event on June 14, 2011. His remarks follow below.

Every morning, when I wake up, I immediately hit the snooze button. But in those nine minutes, between alarms, I contemplate my day. Eventually I relent—I do not call out sick, I do not go back to sleep—I get up and go to work. My motivation is my clients. The inspiring men and women I work with everyday; the people who teach me about like–real life, the people who have gone through more than I can imagine; the people who know that my extension, 5108, is always there for them to call, and I will be at the other end trying my absolute best to help them.

One such inspiring client of mine is Ms. Muhammad. A fifty-eight year-old widowed mother of four, Ms. Muhammad fights tirelessly for her two chronically ill children. “I was not always poor,” Ms. Muhammad told me. In 2008 her world was turned upside down. Her son was killed in action in Iraq, while fighting for US, and she lost her job as a home health aid. Ever since her tough break, Ms. Muhammad has been on and off Public Assistance. This past year has been especially difficult, she told me. At the peak of her hardship, her public assistance case was closed, leaving her without a way to pay the rent, without enough food, and with the fear that her Medicaid case would be discontinued, putting her daughters’ health in jeopardy. As we waited, I thought to myself, “Is this how we treat the mothers of our heroes?”

Working toward Systemic Change at Home and Abroad

Jessie Levine is a Los Angeles native who found her academic and social niche in Berkeley. Now she has decided to brave the cold weather and grace NYC with her infectious laughter and passionate commitment to systemic change and community building.

Thanks to Nancy Kaufman, social justice activist and CEO of the National Council for Jewish Women, on June 21st I joined AVODAH alumni and staff at a luncheon to discuss the work of NCJW and their support of Israeli social change organizations. I left the event inspired by the strong links between the domestic anti-poverty work I do as an AVODAH Corps member and the work that NCJW supports in the United States and Israel.

In particular, Jane Eisner, the invited guest speaker and editor of The Jewish Daily Forward spoke about the stark wealth disparity in Israeli society, particularly compared to other members of the OECD, the Organization for Economic Co-operation and Development. According to a report compiled by the OECD in June 2010, the highest unemployment rates in Israel are among Haredi men and Arab-Israeli women. The unemployment rate among Haredi men has increased from around 20% twenty years ago to over 60% today. Eisner spoke about the need for better education and inclusive job placement services to decrease the high unemployment rates for these two communities. However, she warned that these social service initiatives are not comprehensive enough to be tackled by Israel’s non-profit sector alone.  True change will come with comprehensive reform.  Eisner challenged American Jewry to use its financial contributions to Israel to stimulate change in Israeli government programs. Israeli Consul General Ido Aharoni echoed Eisner’s sentiment: systemic change in Israel is necessary to truly address its pervasive poverty issues.

Multifaith Community in the Countryside

Elise Goldin is an Evanstonian recently transplanted to the wonderful city of New York. Co-founder of Jewish Solidarity with Native American People (JSNAP) and a member of Young, Jewish, and Proud, Elise loves working on issues of social justice. She also enjoys dance parties. In the fall, Elise will be working as a tenant organizer as part of AVODAH: The Jewish Service Corps.

This piece originally appeared at PursueAction.org here.

Friday night, we sat around our dining room table for my last Shabbat at Stony Point, drumming to Bim Bom, and smelling the scent of fresh baked challah just out of the oven. Shabbats at the Community of Living Traditions are the best. Growing up, I had celebrated Shabbat with my family, but something about the people, the food, and the consistency of it made it really meaningful for me here. Each week, we invited guests to sit and share Shabbat with us as well as a way to get to know individuals in the community better and share Jewish traditions with people who have not experienced it before.

The Community of Living Traditions is a multi-faith community made up of Christians, Jews, Muslims, Quakers, and Buddhists located at Stony Point Center in Stony Point, NY. We are committed to living and learning from each other in the context of nonviolence from each of the faith traditions. As a community, we focus on four justice areas: Food Justice, Immigrant Rights, Justice for Incarcerated Persons, and Israel/Palestine Conflict Transformation. Every Monday, we got together for “Circle Time” and “Text Study” in which we engage each other in issues of nonviolence and faith. Circle time discussions have ranged from domestic violence in each of the traditions, to white converts to Islam.

Reflections on the Passover Seder

Emily Hoffman is from Charleston, SC and attended Wesleyan University. She is a Advocate at Neighbors Together, a soup kitchen and comprehensive assistance program addressing the immediate crisis of hunger for the poorest people in the Bedford-Stuyvesant/Brownsville section of Brooklyn.

Like most other Jewish traditions, the Passover Seder has been evolving for centuries. From the days of Rabbi Akiva and his colleagues gathering together in Bnei Brak, to the Freedom Seder in 1969, the central Jewish liberation story has been expressed in countless ways by myriad tellers with many different intended morals and meanings.

The thing that is most fascinating to me about the story of Passover is the way it has become the archetypal framework for so many people seeking freedom. I think the most notable example of this is the way black American slaves adapted the narrative to their own story. In the 19^th century, many referred to themselves as Israelites, Harriet Tubman as Moses, and the Northern United States as the Promised Land. In the 20^th century, it was Martin Luther King Jr. who cast himself in the role of Moses, declaring that he had been to the mountaintop but might not make it to the Promised Land.

The parallels between the Jewish liberation story and those of other peoples, particularly black Americans, were first acknowledged in the format of a Seder during the Freedom Seder of 1969. Held on the first anniversary of Martin Luther King’s assassination, the ceremony brought people of multiple racial and religious backgrounds together in a black church. Since then, Jewish people have used the Seder to commemorate the story of countless groups they belong to or wish to represent who are seeking or have found liberation. These Seders have ranged in focus from women to laborers to Darfurians, to many more groups of people.

The Housing Rights Movement: A Conversation

Avital Aboody is from Sherman Oaks, CA and attended University of California at Berkeley. As a New York Corps member, she works as a Tenant Organizer at Urban Homesteading Assistance Board (UHAB).

This piece originally appeared on The SurRealEstate.org here.

The third weekend in March, the annual  “Left Forum” at Pace University in Manhattan gathered together a motley crew of academics, professionals, activists, organizers, and visionaries to exchange knowledge and strategies with one another through participation in panel discussions covering a variety of “hot button” topics.

I attended the forum eager to learn about new issues, as well as to deepen my analysis of the issue that I agonize over daily: how to build a thriving, progressive housing movement. The distinguished Peter Marcuse moderated of panel of representatives from the National Association of HUD Tenants (NAHT), Take Back the Land-Madison, Community Voices Heard (CVH), National Economic and Social Rights Initiative (NESRI), Picture the Homeless (PTH), Public Housing Tenants Association, and the Community Service Society (CSS). The discussion between these groups centered on several questions which have been critical considerations in my time as an organizer with UHAB.

The Triangle Shirtwaist Factory- 100 years later

Friday, March 25, 2011 marked the 100^th anniversary of the Triangle Shirtwaist Fire. The Triangle Shirtwaist Fire took place in the Asch Building on the northwest corner of Green Street and Washington Place, in Greenwich Village, New York City. This horrible fire killed 146 women, most of whom were either Italian or Jewish immigrants.

The Asch Building, where the Triangle Shirtwaist Fire occurred

Devastatingly, the deaths of these women could have been avoided. The doors of the factory were locked, and therefore workers were faced with the choice of either jumping from the 8^th, 9^th, and 10^th topmost floors, or staying in the blaze. Historians believe that the doors were locked either to discourage the workers from organizing and participating in the International Ladies’ Garment Workers Union, which fought for better working conditions for sweatshop workers, or to prevent the workers from stealing the shirtwaist material.