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I have never found Judaism to be accessible or compelling; the closes thing to religion for me has been "nature." (Professionally, I've pursued a career as a landscape architect) Now for the first time--through this book--I recognize that Judaism may have something to offer me spiritually. A reverance for nature is basic to Jewish thought and is so integral to a Jewish way of life that most of us neglect to see that its there--I never did.
Ecology & the Jewish Spirit illuminates various strands of ecological thought within the Jewish tradition and makes it accessible for a wide audience.
The book is divided into 3 sections: Sacred Place, Sacred Time and Sacred Community. Through this framework, the holiness of nature becomes apparant. Bernstein juxtaposes analytical readings with personal narrative pieces to give the reader a wholistic experience of how nature fits into Jewish tradition--the effect is that you get a sense of how rabbis and Jews thought about the human place in nature hundreds of years ago, and you also get a sense about what that could mean for you today.
I recommend this book highly for anyone, Jewish or not, who is interested in pursuing an ecologically oriented and spiritual life.
I also recommend the book as a present for bar and bat mitzvah kids who are seeking answers for the environmental crisis.
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This book was a great help for my Hebrew school class and challenged me to think of environmental issues in a Jewish manner.
I highly recommend this book, it will add a little spice to any Jewish program or home.
I suspect that "Ecology and the Jewish Spirit" will sell very well for the same reason: most people -- Jewish or not -- simply do not associate the Jewish religion with ecology. The idea seems so novel, they just have to know more...
As Ellen Bernstein points out in her introduction to this excellent anthology, the lack of specific references to "environment" and "nature" in traditional Jewish sources does not mean that Jews have no connection to nature. "Rather," she writes, "Judaism's ecological message emerges when we observe what is sacred in Judaism. How are we to treat what is holy? And what is humanity's place amid the holiness? The Jewish understanding that the earth belongs to God attests to the fact that the earth and everything in it is holy, and this concept of holiness, kedushah, is the beginning of a unique Jewish environmental ethic." (p. 13)
This book explores that ethic through 37 essays by Jews from all kinds of backgrounds, organized into three sections: Sacred Place, Sacred Time, and Sacred Community. The styles are as varied as their authors, ranging from personal anecdotes about relating to Judaism and nature, to an excellent explanation of the ethics behind the agricultural laws in the Torah, to a liturgy for celebrating the Jewish Festival of the Trees (Tu B'Shevat). Page 205 has a list of the special brochahs (Hebrew blessings) to be said upon seeing various works of nature. Did you know that Judasim has a separate blessing for seeing a rainbow, the ocean, or trees in bloom? Sadly, these particular brochahs have fallen out of use among urbanized Jews. Perhaps this book will help revive awareness of them among modern Jews.
Of special interest to me was the essay "Practical Kabbalah: A Family History" by Charles Fenyesi, whose ancestors came from Eastern Europe, where his family had owned and worked 30 acres of land. (So much for the old stereotype of Hasidic Jews being urban.) He tells how his ancestors "religiously" gathered organic debris of all kinds, to "toss into the sort of heap that we moderns call a compost pile." This would eventually be carted off to their fields and vegetable garden.
"Nothing should go to waste!" was their motto -- not out of stinginess, but from an understanding that everything has a place and should be treated with respect, not wasted. Life was a "productive loop," not a vicious cycle. This ecological awareness, Fenyesi explains, came from within the Hasidic-kabbalistic worldview of traditional Judaism. His family didn't talk about "ecology" in modern words, but they lived it as an integral part of daily life in the stetl (Jewish village). Religion encompassed all things, including what should be thrown on the compost pile.
Another story I liked, wihch was a bit amusing to me at first, was Eileen Abrams' account of how she grew a plot of barley in the tiny yard in front of her Philadelphia rowhouse. A friend of hers wanted some barley stalks and heads for a craft project. OK, why not? Eileen quickly went from land lender to barley steward. She had never seen barley grow before (hard for me to imagine, living as I do in the Midwest!). She soon became fascinated with the life cycle of this plant that was used for the Omer sacrifice in the ancient Jerusalem Temple. My initial amusement grew into respect as I read how she observed and nurtured this tiny plot of grain from seed to harvest. Her reverence for that bit of barley heightened my own awareness of the local fields of grain that I take for granted.
All in all, this book was such a great read, I stayed up half the night with it. It has something for everybody -- I give it ten stars!