I just came across this fascinating exhibit at The Contemporary Jewish Museum in San Francisco. The exhibit is titled, "Do Not Destroy: Trees, Art, and Jewish Thought" and is a meditation on Ba'al Tashchit and the role of trees in Jewish culture. In addition to the works on display inside
As a member of the self described ‘Jewish environmental movement’, I find it necessary from time to time to ask myself what it means to be a Jewish environmentalist. Having covered that in my last blog post, I want to ask a follow up question. As Jewish environmentalists, are we
When I try and answer the above question, I find myself dizzy with axioms and assumptions. This intellectual limbo is at time frustrating, however it is also liberating. Whereas I am without a definitive answer, I am free to entertain the endless possibilities of the question. There are a myriad
As an environmental activist, human being, and as a Jew I have worked to mitigate the effects of climate change. I have planted gardens, taught classes, composted my own trash, as well as the trash of my neighbors, relatives, and friends. However, the more time I spend thinking about climate
I am not going to overcomplicate this. I’m an animal. We all are. And I’m not simply referring to our taxonomic classification. I’m talking about being the kind sweating, salivating, heart-pounding beasts that you see on the National Geographic channel. As Jews we tend to shy away from describing ourselves
In 1983 the Bruntland Commission formally defined sustainable development as, "development that meets the needs of the present without compromising the ability of future generations to meet their own needs." Many hard-core environmentalists and deep ecologists reject this definition because it presupposes development as the foundation for sustainability. However,
How might we better understand climate change, social inequality, and the sense of personal isolation that pervade much of modern society? In a metaphoric and material sense I believe the answer lies in societal conceptions of public space, property, and ownership. These elements are hallmarks of industrial society and in
I have questions. Before getting too deep in to the specifics, let me frame my concerns. According to Kabbalah and the axioms of Heschelian thought, the human experience is fundamentally limited. We can never know everything. Most of the time, we are too fragmented to grasp the fullness of God
Two weeks ago I had the privilege of teaching my first class at Congregation Beth Israel’s (CBI) Hebrew High School in Charlottesville, VA. I say a privilege because the students at CBI are curious, enthusiastic, and intelligent, but that isn’t all. It is also a privilege to be sharing some
Garden. Two syllables. No difficult “ch” or “tz” sounding pronunciations. The guttural “ayin” is left entirely out of the mix. However, as a graduate student studying landscape architecture, I still find myself grappling with the word. As a child, there was only one garden, the Garden of Eden. There were
What do Jerusalem and Charlottesville, Virginia have in common? Each has a highly successful pedestrian mall designed by Lawrence Halpin. Jerusalem has Rechov Ben-Yehudah (Ben Yehudah Street). Charlottesville has the Downtown Mall. You might be wondering what the significance of all this is, but all that will get cleared up
