Rabbi Analia Bortz, 41, the vibrant young rabbi of Congregation Or Hadash (which means "New Light"), lives in Atlanta with her husband of 18 years, Rabbi Maria Karpaj, and their two daughters. Rabbi Bortz is a medical doctor, and speaks five languages. She has shared her gifts from the pulpit for almost 20 years, We recently talked about her passion for music as a medium for dialogue with the divine, her thoughts on the upcoming Passover celebration, and spirituality in our culture in general.
Q. Your Friday night service is composed strictly of music, without need for the spoken word. Why is music so foundational for you in approaching a deeper experience of the divine?
Music is able to transcend the boundaries set by prejudice, hate, war. It brings people together, connects us with our one universal story, our foundational narrative, no matter what the context. It’s a link between the generations when words can’t do that. Music helps us to quiet down and hear the soft voice of God within speaking to us in a universal language. …. It allows us to become one with the oneness. We all need some kind of Sabbath reflection – time set aside to listen to and be open to that inner invitation – and music, for me, prepares us for that in the same way the melodies we were each raised with from infancy connected us to our important other. Just as we have to ready our muscles before a run, we have to ready our spirit before we can be truly open to hear.
Q. Is there a childhood story or experience which you can now look back on that was a precursor, a premonition, of your focus or ministry today?
I remember my mother setting up table for our Passover celebration. She brought out our best crystal, our most beautiful china. We kept these in a special, kosher place and only brought them out on that night, just for that night. I remember the music of the crystal being carried out on a tray to the table. I loved Passover as a child: the telling of the story again, the engaging of the next generation by being open to the questions [of the youngest child], the gathering of the family, the strangers invited into our home. I remember the long table, the feeling of connection. This made a deep impression on me.
Q. What do you know now you did not know in your 20s that has served you well in your life?
I grew up in a bubble, in a close-knit Jewish bubble. As I grow older, I am more open-minded; I embrace diversity, love to hear other stories that connect me to all sides of the question. The goal is not to reach the goal, to answer the question, but to stay on the journey, to stay open. Not everything is about goals…. Enjoy what you do! It’s the process of the journey and not the moment of reaching the goal that gets you in touch with what it means to be alive.
Q. What have you learned from the losses in your life? What has the experience of loss taught you about our human journey?
My mother-in-law died at age 57 after battling cancer for 11 years. We were very close, best friends really. She would always tell me it was important to come to the celebrations, not to the funeral. Celebrate life as long as it presents itself, as it presents itself. Don’t miss life as it is happening. Loss can bring a positive outcome in some instances. It raises our awareness of our real values and priorities. I’ve learned that togetherness without having a specific goal in mind allows us to really be with one another. I’ve learned the importance of always telling the people you love that you love them, every day. You don’t want to be saying that to a stone.
Q. Why do you think we in our culture have such a hard time getting in touch with the deeper reality of Passover or with any deeply spiritual invitation "to remember" our connection to our higher self? Why have we lost touch with our foundational, universal story?
I see three main streams in our society. The first stream is marked by apathy. They are against any organized attempt to celebrate in traditional ways. It "doesn’t serve them." What doesn’t serve them has no use for them. They see only the commercial or surface aspect of a celebration. They prefer to empty the core values of each of our traditions – no matter the tradition – and replace these with mundane behaviors. The second stream in our society is more fundamentalist. They want to silence all questioning and demand blind acceptance of the "other" according to their definition. The third stream is the seeker. The seeker is on a permanent quest. The seeker sees uncertainty as good in that it keeps us on the quest, keeps us growing and wondering and stretching beyond what we understand at the moment. I like what John Dewey, the American philosopher, said: "Life is a permanent path to uncertainty."
