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GREENHORNSBy Rabbi Samuel M. Cohon Hashiveinu Adonai eilecha,
chadesh yameinu k'kedem. (Torah service liturgy, based on Lamentations 5:21) Greenhorn. It was the first printable word that came to mind after I brushed against an innocent looking shrub next to my rental car. The searing pain, and the endless process of removing sharp spines from my dress suit - and leg - in the gorgeous foothills twilight, convinced me I'd discovered a new type of cactus. While I knew about saguaro, (How could you miss saguaro?) I had been blissfully unaware of the many varieties of flesh-seeking missiles that flourish in our magnificent desert environment. Now I'd been officially welcomed to Tucson. Questions came immediately to mind: how do you get cactus spikes out of microfiber? Is it a legal requirement that all native vegetation come equipped with razor wire? Can you drive a car with one leg in mid-air? What a greenhorn... A greenhorn is a newcomer, a fresh immigrant, an innocent abroad, a newby, and I had proven myself to be precisely that. It's an old honored Jewish term, too, from the days of Ellis Island and Castle Garden-where most of our ancestors landed-lavished upon brand new arrivals by those with a couple of more months of American tenancy. There's a great Yiddish song, the Grineh Kuzineh, the Greenhorn Cousin, which pokes fun at the just-off-the-boat habits of a beautiful young arrival. A greenhorn is an object of ridicule and derision, someone who doesn't know the ropes yet. I'll give you an example: a greenhorn is somebody who moves to Tucson just in time for the summer. Of course, all of us here in America - and in Tucson- are greenhorns. In this nation of immigrants, even the "Native" Americans came down by land bridge from Asia. And we Jews, including those of us descended from the longest-term Sephardic and German immigrants, are certainly greenhorns, brought to a land of opportunity by persecutions and privations in one country or another. Most of our families have not been in America as long as the larger saguaros have been growing. We are all greenhorns - but we are also Jews, part of the greatest ethical, religious, and ethnic tradition in human history. Wherever we have sojourned or stayed, wherever we have wandered or lived, in tragedy and triumph, we have been Jews and lived our Jewishness actively. Here at Temple Emanu-El, we pride ourselves on being Arizona's first congregation. That history is long, for this area, and proud, but like all that is good, it is in need of constant creative caring to extend and develop it. We are in the midst of a process or renaissance, of rebirth, we all can be part of that great renaissance, and we all should be part of the renaissance. In truth, renaissance is not actually about making old things live again. It is about actively creating something new based on the great traditions of the past. In words from Eycah, lamentations, which we read on Tisha B'Av, this month and chant every time we return the Torah to the ark, we ask God to renew our earliest days, to return to us a state of closeness with the divine. But more than that, we pledge ourselves to a particular promise, a convenantal agreement. Return us, God, to You, a state of closeness and favor - and we will return, and create anew. And that partnership will bring the true renaissance of active Jewish life, for ourselves and for our temple, that we desire. Even a greenhorn can see that... From the July 1999 Temple Times |
