MAINTAINING THE FAITH

AROUND THE COMMUNITY

RABBI GABI KALTMANN ARK CENTRE

One Generation Plants the Trees, and Another Gets the Shade (Chinese proverb)

Judaism’s rituals and festivals are centred around children. The inclusion of the newest and youngest members of our community shapes the way we teach the next generation about our history and religion.

Engaging children and youth takes on many different forms. For example, dressing up on Purim, inviting their questions at the Seder, encouraging dialogue and rigour of text study during Shavuot, and decorating the Sukkah.

Judaism’s approach to actively include children in all things related to ritual is the antithesis of the 15th century British proverb “children should be seen and not heard”.

In fact, the more young people participate in our rituals, the more Yiddishe Nachas we get from their engagement with tradition.

As a result of the COVID-19 lockdowns, there is now a cohort of youngster that have missed out on celebrating their bar and bat mitzvahs in a synagogue. Nor have they been able to mark Rosh Hashanah with their families in our holy sanctuary.

They have missed out on spending time with their bubbas and zaidas. They haven’t had the experiences that shape the way many of us relate to our faith, that is through multigenerational experiences with family in shule.

While Zoom can help to bridge the distance and was obviously necessary, it is a poor replica for face-to-face, real time attendance.

Our religion focuses on retransmitting Jewish traditions. The Haggadah refers to the story of the miraculous exodus of the Jewish people. It instructs parents "Vehigadeta Levincha" – “you shall tell it to your child”. This is how we learn about our rituals. Boys and girls mimic the actions of their parents.

Now – after a period of distance – it is important to again lure people back to shule and show them the relevance of the synagogue in their lives. Serving G-d should always come from a place of love. The duty of a leader is to remind congregants of the joy and meaning that places of worship can bring to their lives and transmit to the next generation.

One of the best parts of my job as a rabbi is seeing intergenerational families that attend services and participate in community events. In my time at the Ark, I have seen many couples go through momentous occasions, such as conversion, marriage and having children.

It is hard to convey the immense joy I feel when offspring attend shule with their parents and grandparents.

This isn’t just joy for me but for our whole community – recognition that children are our future and we have a collective responsibility to educate the next generation. In our sanctuary we sit together during life’s best and toughest moments. All are gathered there in support of one another. So, as we settle into our “new normal”, we have a new bounce in our step. We recognise the privilege and joy of being able to gather together again. We witness the new seeds that are being planted in the building when our children come back to synagogue and witness our traditions.

We restore the links that started with Abraham and Sara … and our hearts swell with pride. May it continue so.

Maintaining the faith

Rabbi Gabi Kaltmann with Jacob Burrows at a Torah class

International guests back

LIMMUD OZ

For the first time in three years (covering both Limmud Oz and Yom Limmud), organisers of the Jewish learning festival will welcome overseas guests.

The event will take place at the Theodor Herzl Club in Caulfield North on Saturday, 3rd September and at the Orrong Road campus of The King David School that evening and throughout Sunday, 4th September.

Each hour, there will be between four and 10 interactive sessions from which to choose.

Subjects include Israel, the modern Jewish world, Jewish history, text-based learning, the arts and spirituality. There will also be live music and interactive workshops.

Among the international guest speakers will be educator and thought leader Abi Dauber Sterne, who will be exploring the value of robust discussion in making our community healthier and more thoughtful.

Noah Efron, who teaches and writes about science, technology, religion and politics, will take a parent’s approach to the topic of Israel’s promising future.

Author and educator Liza Wiemer will be sharing her story on stopping antisemitism in schools.

Australian/Israeli educator and journalist Ittay Flescher will talk about cooperation between Israeli and Palestinian youth.

Artist, social entrepreneur and LGBTQ+ advocate Ruben Shimonov will be exploring the representation of queer Sephardic/Mizrahi Jews.

The Jewish response to pandemics throughout history will be the focus for spiritual educator Elliot Malamet.

His wife, clinical psychologist Leah, will challenge the stereotypes around mental illness and wellness.

Journalist Anshel Pfeffer will explore the increasing divide between less and more religious Jewish communities.

Modern Israeli Orthodox rabbanit Shira Marili Mirvis explores Jewish text and has the High Holydays in her sights.

WORLD

N E W S Rushdie and me: a Persian tale

ALI DEILAMI

We studied the death sentence and argued with our teachers: how could it be permissible in Islam for Khomeini to order this killing?

When elementary school teachers discuss authors, they usually talk about those who write for children and teens. Salman Rushdie is not that kind of writer, but one perk of growing up in the Islamic Republic of Iran was that I had already heard his name by the time I was in fourth grade. It was Quds Day (which is the last Friday of Ramadan, but since schools in Iran are closed Fridays, it was the last Thursday), and the principal gave a speech in which he talked about Salman Rushdie. In keeping with Islamic countries’ tradition of linking anyone you don’t like to Israel, he labelled Rushdie a “Zionist mercenary”.

Any kid in England is familiar with the name J.K. Rowling, even if he or she has never read Harry Potter. In Iran, Salman Rushdie has the same status, although he’s not a local writer and his books are banned.

In high school, finding and sharing banned books was a hobby for me and my friends. It wasn’t too hard and, especially today, the internet makes it easy to find this stuff. And, if reading PDF files is hard on your eyes, offset printing is always an option. Yuval Noah Harari was added to the list of banned writers in Iran almost three years ago, but still today you can buy his “Sapiens” in plenty of bookstores.

The Satanic Verses by Salman Rushdie was one of our early interests. The fun fact is we actually sent these files to teachers. I remember a few teachers even encouraged us. Of course, those were secular teachers. We had to study Islamic texts in school and those teachers weren’t secular at all, but that didn’t prevent us from debating with them about the ideas we encountered in the forbidden books. Of course, one of the first topics wasn’t in a book, but rather about the author of a book. How, we asked our Islamic studies teacher, could Imam Khomeini order the killing of Salman Rushdie?

As is well known, Ayatollah Khomeini, the Supreme Leader of the Islamic Republic of Iran, issued a fatwa (religious legal ruling) in 1989 ordering the assassination of Salman Rushdie. In Iranian universities, all students in all faculties must pass compulsory courses on Islamic theology and the Islamic revolution, and this fatwa is routinely studied in these courses. University classes tend to permit more freedom of expression than is the norm in Iran, and students often challenge the fundamentals of official state beliefs. In fact, arguing with these rigid professors was a form of entertainment for us.

The overarching question was the matter of assassination in Islam. We asked dozens of teachers and professors whether Muslims have the right to kill heretics. The usual examples were Rushdie as well as Ahmad Kasravi, an Iranian lawyer and historian murdered in 1946 by a hard-line Islamic group that Khomeini often praised.

The answer to our question was always the same formulaic response based in Islamic law, but adjusted to accommodate the regime’s particular version of Shia Islam. “Islam doesn’t allow assassination unless a marja – a source of emulation – orders it,” and because in their view Khomeini was a marja, pursuing the death of Rushdie was spotless.

Ayatollah Ruhollah Khomeini passed away in June 1989, a few months after changing Rushdie’s life forever. It was foreshadowed by an incident from just a few weeks earlier. In January 1989, on Fatimiyya, the holiday marking the martyrdom of prophet Muhammad’s daughter, Iranian state radio asked random people to name the ultimate role model for Iranian women. The answer was obvious, Fatima. Everyone gave the right answer until one woman didn’t. Her idol, she said, was Oshin, the main character of a popular Japanese series!

Ayatollah Khomeini found the interview insulting and demanded that the head of the Islamic Republic of Iran Broadcasting fire and punish those responsible for airing it. Khomeini wrote that if the insult was intentional, the blasphemer would certainly be sentenced to death. (Four IRIB employees were sentenced to four years in jail and 40 lashes they were later pardoned.)

Khomeini’s reaction to the Oshin interview was surprisingly harsh, even for his close lackeys. The same was true of his fatwa against Rushdie. Khomeini called for a global attempt to summarily kill the author without any debate and with no room for challenge, as is the norm in the Islamic world. Even muftis in the Middle Ages didn’t issue a death verdict for a heretic without asking for repentance first.

But by that last year of Khomeini’s life, the pattern of casual execution was already in place: In the summer of 1988 his orders led to the state-sponsored massacre of an estimated 30,000 political prisoners throughout Iran.

Salman Rushdie