Divrei Torah - Guests/Members

Today’s Parsha is one that is close to my heart. Terumah Exodus 25 -27. This portion of the Exodus story is about the building of the Mishkan and goes into minute detail. It can be tedious for some, but is very important to me, as it influenced my work and my career as a Judaic Weaver. It begins this way:

God spoke to Moses, saying: “Tell the Israelite people to bring me gifts; you shall accept gifts for Me from every person whose heart so moves him. 
And these are the gifts that you shall accept from them: gold, silver and copper: blue, purple, and crimson yarn, fine linen, goats’ hair; etc etc.” 

To prepare for today I looked on the internet for commentary on Terumah. I soon discovered commentary by Rabbi Rachel Barenblat, who blogs under the name “the Velveteen Rabbi.” She explained that the act of Terumah refers to gifts to God. Not Tithes, but freewill offerings, extravagant gifts of the heart. Hence the special word that gives its name to this parsha: Terumah. She also wrote: 

"As for the Tabernacle, make it of ten strips of cloth; make these of fine twisted linen, of blue, purple, and crimson yarns, with a design of cherubim worked into them..."

Then she wrote: 

“My shul is in the process of commissioning new Torah mantles right now, from a Judaic weaver whose work I have long admired. Her designs will feature the mountains and the trees that make the view from our sanctuary so glorious, along with quotes from the liturgy and from Psalms about trees and mountains. I can't help seeing a resonance between the work she'll be doing, and the work once done by the children of Israel described in this week's Torah portion. With these loops, and cloths, and brilliant yarns, we create a wrapping beautiful enough to protect the words of Torah, one of our primary points of connection with God.”

I reached out to Rabbi Barenblat after reading that, and was delighted to discover that the weaver she referred to was actually me. The Torah Mantles commissioned at Congregation Beth Israel in North Adams are ones I created in 2006. Small world.

I was fortunate to be able to have a career that can be tied pretty directly to the Terumah portion of Exodus. Today I want to honor and appreciate those who were an essential part of what I created, and who I became.

I first learned to weave while living in Eugene, Oregon. It was a natural step for me, as I first started knitting and embroidering with my Grandmother when I was 6, and continued to dabble in fiber crafts right up until I purchased my first loom many years later.

Encouraged by a wonderful rabbi, Rabbi Max Ticktin, from my years in Chicago, I became interested in Judaic fiber art and soon created some fabrics for my synagogue and my family. I studied various books, including Abram Kanof’s, book “Jewish Ceremonial Art and Religious Observance” in which he said 

“Religious experience is more commonly absorbed through the senses than through the intellect…

Beautiful architectural elements and ritual objects have been traditional since biblical times... The rabbis of old called for HIDUR MITZVAH, beautification as an integral aspect of pious duties. Sacred objects to enrich the simplest traditional act lend themselves to creativity which emphasizes the element of beauty in holiness’; coincidentally there is the intrinsic holiness of beauty itself.”

In 1976, after I had been weaving for several years, a family came from Colorado to Eugene for several months so the 2 mathematicians could work together. Bob Liebler and my husband Bill were very close colleagues. For me, there was a wonderful added bonus to this arrangement, because Bob’s wife Barbara was a superb weaver and fiber artist. We clicked immediately, and Barbara became my friend, my mentor and my inspiration to help me go beyond the ordinary in my weaving. 

My connection with the Lieblers continued for many years. I frequently asked Barbara how to achieve a desired result. She remained my friend, teacher, and mentor for many years.        

There are others whose work influenced or aided my work. A calligrapher in Eugene, Oregon, Reeva Kimble, was my partner in a great many of my works. Judith Hankin was another Eugene artist behind many of my works. This collaborative relationship of weaver, calligrapher, artist, continued for many years, and on many projects. Reeva and Judith worked with me on drawings to present commission proposals, after which I could take the final designs to the loom.

In 1980, I visited Boston and Brookline and met with Mae Rockland Tupa. Her book, “The Work of our Hands,” had been one of my earliest inspirations to take up Judaic Weaving. That became a very fortunate meeting for my career. She sent me to Kolbo Gallery in Brookline. For years, most of my tallitot, matzah and challah covers, and other items were sold through Kolbo, close to where we now live. Many Jewish visitors from all over the world saw my work there, which became a major source of later commissioned work. Not just in Massachusetts and New England, but also Brazil, Sweden, and Australia. All told I did commissions in at least 60 different synagogues.         

In 1992, while Bill and I lived for a few months in Colorado, Barbara Liebler invited me to join her and her colleagues at their lunchtime meetings. They were experimenting with beadwork, anticipating launching a magazine by that title. That was what inspired me to take up beading, which I’ve been doing ever since — especially when I didn’t have access to my loom. 

I met Chaya Meyerowitz, the mother of one of Bob Liebler’s Ph.D. students, who happened to be President of the Israel Weavers Guild. When Bill and I later visited Jerusalem, Chaya arranged for me to give talks to the guild, and to teach a workshop in beadweaving. I continued to stay in touch with Chaya after our sabbatical year in Jerusalem. On one later visit she got me knitting hats for newborn and preemie babies. It was therapeutic for me to do this to relax after days of walking in the hills of Jerusalem.         

In Oregon I was an active member of the Weaver’s guild. There were some truly fine weavers and teachers in this group, including the chair of the University of Oregon Weaving Department, and the chair of the Lane community College Weaving Dept, Nancy Hoskins. Besides being a noted Weaver and author of books on various weaving techniques, Nancy is also a noted authority on Coptic textiles found in Egyptian archeological digs. 

Because she was well known on this subject, in Fall of 2013 she was contacted by a man from Israel who wanted information to aid in the weaving of an historically accurate Parochet (Ark Curtain) . She contacted me in Brookline, knowing my specialty in Judaic Weaving. By coincidence, this was just a few weeks before one of our planned trips to Israel. I arranged to meet this man in the Jewish quarter of the Old City where he was planning to give a talk at a place called The Temple Institute. I did not know what this was. When I arrived for the meeting, I was appalled to learn what their mission was. He hoped to have me help his weavers to create a Parochet for the 3rd Temple, which they had plans to build in place of the Dome of the Rock. NO WAY!!! 

BUT- this reminds me of events that are special to me. Early in my Weaving career I met Rabbi Arthur Waskow, one of the great progressive activist rabbis of our time. He asked me to make a tallit for him based on a story of his called “ The Last Tishah b’Av: A Tale of New Temples.” 

It involves the arrival of the Messiah. In the story, Jews and Muslims gather and prepare for battle at the Dome of the Rock. The Jews expected the Mosque to be torn down to make way for the 3rd Temple, while the Muslims expected to protect the Dome. The Messiah arrives at the dome of the rock and whispers “So Beautiful”. The Messiah continues: “This green, this blue, this gold, this Dome — This is the Holy Temple!” The Jews and Muslims eventually lay down their weapons and enter The Dome of the Rock together.      

Rabbi Waskow asked me to design a tallit with the Western Wall, The Dome of the Rock above it, and a large rock in between the 2; representing the rock where Abraham is said to have prepared to sacrifice Isaac and where the Muslims say Mohammed ascended to heaven.

Sometimes you make a connection that reminds you who you are and what you believe. Arthur Waskow was that for me. In the gallery up the stairs   there is  a picture of the Waskow tallit, along with a number of other works and photos of some of my more special works. 

One of my last, and most emotionally rewarding commissions came when my son Reuben asked if I would weave a Chuppah for him and his fiancé Mimi. Reeva and I worked on the design. It was immediately approved by Reuben and Mimi. Among my first Judaic creations was a tallit I wove for Bill, and one of my last was the Chuppah for Reuben and Mimi.    

In 2010 Bill and I sold our home in Eugene — and more importantly, my enormous looms — and left the city we had lived and built our community in for 39 years to move to Brookline. Upon moving into our condo complex we couldn’t figure out how to nail our Mezuzah to our metal door frame. So Bill went walking the corridors of our building to find other Mezuzot, and to talk to neighbors to ask how to do it. That’s how we met our first new friends in the area, Fran and Jake Schlitt. Fran invited me to join the Dorshei Bible study class, which, at the time, was meeting in her condo, one floor up from us. That’s how I met Stan Fleischman, and soon after also his wife Jackie, who both became close friends. We had been synagogue shopping after arriving in Brookline – going to Shabbat services in a variety of synagogues. We hadn’t yet found a comfortable fit, and Stan urged us to try CDT. At the first CDT service we attended I saw Stan, and to my surprise, he was wearing one of my tallitot. Neither of us had known of the connection.

The parsha that day was one of the Exodus chapters involving the building of the Tabernacle. Rabbi Toba called artist/members up for an Aliyah, and included me. At the Kiddush, everyone was so warm and welcoming that we knew we’d found our place!     

As I approached my 80th birthday, my kids were putting together a retrospective of my weaving career. This had me looking back over my years of weaving, and remembering works which were very special to me and many people whose influence was essential to me in developing my skills, in guiding my path, and in creating the pieces that I did. Their influence was artistic, technical, and spiritual, and all were part of the life path I chose.

I miss weaving. I miss the connections and conversations and learning that I had because of weaving. But I’m grateful to be here, today, in this community.

Shabbat shalom