Chest Pound Fest 5768, Part Three

In Which I Get Pissy About Institutionalized Elitism

(With apologies to the bona fide Kohahim out there with nothing to prove)


There's this thing, this streak of gray gravel in the midst of the snowbank; a touch of the old tribal hierarchy that hasn't died out in our tradition. To me, it mars the beauty and humanity of Jewish tradition and spiritualism.

I'll work from the outside in: On Yom Kippur, I stood in the choir loft, facing away from the front of the sanctuary, covering my eyes, so I wouldn't be able to see a group of middle-aged to senior men in stocking feet repeating a short prayer, guided word-by-word by the cantor, as they bestowed upon us their blessing; a blessing granted by their super-special authority, because they claim they're the great-great-great-great-greatⁿ grand-nephews of Moses.

( Yes, that Moses. )

(no subject)

Rain came, rain went...street outside our office is flooded more than knee-deep. The cars out front are submerged.

WOW.