During the Covid crisis, they ran virtual workshops, sending out packages of design materials to participants across the States advance. “When we first started doing them when it was still the pandemic, there was a lot about golems protecting against fear, protecting against disease. And then we saw golems about how to reunite people and golems for love,” she said.
More recently, the golems have reflected the struggle against antisemitism. “I love the idea of making golems,” Isaac said, “because it is a reminder that even when you are making a golem for protection, you are not looking to an outside source of protection, what you are doing is relying on your hands, and whatever materials you have around – how do I make myself strong, how do I protect the community with what I have in front of me?”
They start the workshop by teaching about the legend of the golem. “Then everybody gets a chance to create their own and to think about if they could animate their golem, what are the powers they would manifest in the world and hopefully think about not just what a mythical creature could bring to the world but what they could bring,” Shawna said.
Knives out...for papercutting. Rabbi Shawna and Isaac Brynjegard-Bialik of Paper Midrash[Missing Credit]
It is a technique they have honed over the years, travelling around the country to bring Paper Midrash to congregations large and small. First they will introduce the midrashic approach to Torah and then some midrashim on, say, the parashah of the week. Then the participants will be invited to pick up their extracto knives and start their own creative commentary on the portion by making papercuts. One of the media the couple use to cut up is comic books.
“Comics and Torah go well together,” Shawna said. “They both have a brevity of language, they are both really clear about who are the good guys and who are the bad guys, they both spawn rereading over and over… Torah spawns midrash, comic books spawn fan fiction – and they go well together as a way of looking at the world.”
The similarity between their modes of storytelling that Isaac believes is no accident because “comic books themselves, the way we think of them today, were created by Jewish writers and artists in the early 20th century”.
Fingerprint mosaic with Paper Midrash[Missing Credit]
The Brynjegard-Bialiks’ repertoire has expanded to other media such as spray painting and at Limmud they will also be demonstrating their “fingerprint mosaics” – in which people will be asked to dip their finger into paint and contribute their stamp to a pre-designed work to be unveiled at the end. “It is a way of bringing a lot of people together to create a piece of art that even more people can enjoy,” she said.
The couple met at summer camp when they were in high school and have been regular camp faculty ever since. He is an artist who has worked as a graphic designer. She teaches in the education department of Hebrew Union College, the Reform movement’s academy, and is an adjunct rabbi at a Reform community, Or Ami. “When we got married, our ketubah was made by a papercut artist. I think that’s what generated my initial interest in papercutting as an art form,” Isaac said.
When Shawna was in Israel as part of her rabbinic studies, he was inspired too by watching Israeli artisans at work. “So I bought a knife and cutting mat,” he said. The addition of comics came later.
At camp, she would be sharing some Torah-based ideas with youth, while he coaching them in artistic skills. But when they hit on a way to combine their interests, Paper Midrash was born.
“What we found was giving people a chance to explore Jewish texts through art really opens them up in a way,” Shawna said. “These stories became not just about traditional midrash but very personal, and modern midrash about how people see Torah in their lives. Once we realised that was a thing we could replicate in other places and our other rabbi friends at camp wanted us to try with their synagogues, we found we really love it.”
As an example, she cites a recent synagogue workshop on Parashat Vayishlach where one participant used the story of Jacob and Esau’s reconciliation to consider her own estrangement from her sister.
“There is a sort of magic to it,” Isaac said. “You put 30 people in a room with a blank piece of paper and say you’re going to make artistic midrash in a medium you’ve never used in a way you’ve never explored.” Somehow they “all find their way into that story” and the ability to create something for themselves. “It’s wonderful to see”.
By doing “something new and different,” Shawna added, “it opens you up to new and different ways of thinking about a text.”
For more on Limmud, which starts on December 26, see limmud.org/festival/
Top image: Making a golem at a Paper Midrash session
