In 2024, Rabbi Aliza wrote about the longstanding Jewish tension between the particular and the universal.
In 2026, she returns to that challenge of living across difference, asking how we might learn to “translate” for one another.
Rabbi Aliza announces in her newsletter a pilot conversation on Thursday, August 27th, ahead of the High Holy Days — one she hopes to continue as a series once the holidays have passed.
We invite you to read them together.
We need a translator.
Chevre,
I hope everyone is having a very good summer!
Below: A bit of analysis from me — and the announcement of a "pilot" conversation before the High Holy Days leading into what could become a series of conversations post-High Holy Days.
Some thoughts:
In the Jewish civilization in which we currently live, it feels to me that we often need a translator — literally a translator from one language to another — to be able to understand and speak with each other — especially in regard to charged political language, words, and symbols. I truly believe that in the current state of the Jewish people (and in the larger world outside the Jewish community of course), we are speaking different languages when using the same words — and thus we are often not able to communicate well across difference.
I will give a personal example here using the word "Zionism" to demonstrate what I mean:
In my personal experience growing up, I was taught — fully — in my bones and nervous system, that Zionism = Jewish safety. Zionism is equivalent to Jewish safety. If you looked up Zionism in a "dictionary of my nervous system," it would say, "Zionism: Jewish safety." According to that definition of Zionism, Zionism is extremely important to me — in fact, it is one of my most foundational needs. With that definition, I would spend my entire life fighting for Zionism.
Another experience: I’ve also experienced Zionism like this: I’ve spent a lot of time in Masafer Yatta, in the South Hebron Hills of the West Bank. Multiple times, I have been sitting, drinking tea, hanging out, and all of a sudden had the system of Israeli occupation come in and violently threaten Palestinian friends of mine. Now, to those friends, what Zionism means is: Oppression of their families and the stealing of their land. And it is very stark. And: Being there and being scared myself, I have also felt myself — again in my bones and in my nervous system — the definition of Zionism as equal to, equivalent to “oppressive violence.” With this definition of Zionism, Zionism is certainly not something foundational to me like in the first definition above, but rather something I feel very determined in fighting against.
Same word. With one definition, I would spend my life fighting for it. With another definition, I would spend my life fighting against it.
Within my own body, when I’m listening to different people speak, with the experiences I have in my own nervous system, I need a translator — I need to translate between languages to prevent myself from being triggered and very scared. If someone fighting for their safety is using one definition of Zionism, and I happen to be thinking about the other, I need to switch definitions, or else I will surely get triggered and never be able to listen to the next sentence the person says. The same exact thing happens if the conversation starts in the other language — it’s the same vice versa.
And, important to say: These definitions of Zionism are about our safety, so of course it is impossible to hear one another. If someone is saying something about your safety that is against your basic need, there is no way you are going to be able to listen to the next sentence — it’s how our literal bodies work.
I’ll give another example of a charged political symbol in our world: A keffiyeh.
For many in our communities, a keffiyeh means violence and/or terrorism against Jews. For many, this meaning has only increased since October 7th: We have seen people wearing keffiyehs in marches since October 7th that have contained huge amounts of very scary antisemitism. Because of this, for many, a keffiyeh causes a legitimate reaction of nervous system terror — perhaps even fight, flight, or freeze.
For others in Jewish communities in our current political landscape, wearing a keffiyeh has come to be an expression of solidarity with Palestinian communities. There are many Jews — including many observant and committed Jews, too — who wear a keffiyeh during davening because they feel more integrous in themselves praying in a Jewish space while also communicating that they care about Palestinian dignity. There are others who simply want to say: "Palestinians, you are not alone."
Same symbol. One definition means violence against Jews. Another definition means Palestinian dignity.
We need a translator. It is absolutely crucial that someone wearing a keffiyeh entering a Jewish space understands that the symbol causes nervous system terror in some Jews. It is also absolutely crucial that we recognize that when we see a keffiyeh, there are so many different possibilities for the motivation behind wearing it that, unless the person wearing it tells us why they are wearing it, we can't make assumptions.
Since I started as the rabbi of HBT, I have been impressed with our community's commitment to listening to one another — even with such fraught and emotional topics. It is — honestly — really special and not to be taken for granted. I have heard such good reports about the Shabbaton we had here (before I was rabbi) with Rabbi Maurice Harris from the larger Reconstructionist movement. He guided the community through reactions to emotionally charged language.
It has now been several years since then, and it is time for us to have more of these conversations again.
As the High Holy Days approach, I would like those of us who are in the Boston area (I know a lot of people are away end of August!) to do a "pilot" of another one of these types of conversations. Then, post-High Holy Days, we will have spaciousness to do more of them based on this pilot.
Therefore, if you are in the Boston area end-of-August and interested, please mark your calendar for Thursday evening, August 27th from 7–9pm.
We will meet in-person at the temple and take a look at a few different words and symbols that are currently causing division in our community and the larger world. The hope is that we can translate for one another between different languages, connotations, and nervous system reactions. My hope is that this conversation — and conversations that follow — will be attended by people with a range of outlooks and commitments, as exist within our community.
So, please SAVE THE DATE! I'm looking forward to seeing many of you on August 27th if not beforehand, and for those who are away on vacation, we will do more of this after the High Holy Days.
Sending a lot of love in an extremely complex world,
Rabbi Aliza
Hevre,
As I am sure we are all feeling, there is a lot going on in the coming weeks and months. Rosh Hashanah, Yom Kippur, the anniversary of October 7 in between Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur, the general election…it is a deeply intense time — both spiritually and emotionally. And to add to this: The news of more and more escalated violence today.
Contained in this email is information about our upcoming commemoration ceremony for the victims of October 7. I hope you will join us. Also contained in this email is information about a series of upcoming programs around Israel, Gaza, and the West Bank.
Some framing from Jewish tradition:
In Jewish history, deep within our study and practice, there has always been a tension between: 1. The particular and 2. The universal.
Many Jewish philosophers and thought-leaders over generations have written and taught about it, and here, once again in our history, we face that tension. When and how do we care for, be with, mourn for, pray for our Jewish family in particular, and when and how do we care for, be with, mourn for, pray for our human family? It is a very old question in a new context.
Our upcoming programming at HBT speaks to this tension.
I look forward to seeing you soon, and I am sending deep care,
Rabbi Aliza