wedding

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Sunday, March 31, 2013

Liberation

So here is my shameful secret - I have a cross tattoo on my back. A pretty big one. A purple one.

"Jesus bled for me, I can bleed for Him," I told myself ten years ago as I braved the needle next to my boyfriend, who got a cross tattooed on his upper arm. We had both wanted them for several years, since before we knew each other, so shortly after I turned 19 we decided to make the road trip to North Carolina to get our first tattoos together. Tattoos were illegal in South Carolina at that time, which made them all the more alluring to rebellious teens.

I have been self-conscious of it for many years, ever since it stopped matching my spiritual identity sometime around age 21. That's right - I had it for all of two years before I started regretting it. Ah, the passions of youth.

Since tattoo removal costs about $500 per session and requires six to ten sessions, and cover-ups for a big, dark tattoo will probably look like crap, I have just tried to accept it as part of my journey, part of who I was that led me to who I am. But it still embarrasses me and I try to keep it covered whenever possible.

In class once, the conversation turned to tattoos and there was much laughter and light discussion. I threw out there, "What if it's a tattoo of a cross?" and the teacher immediately responded, "Uh, I would definitely get that removed or covered before conversion." I felt a flutter of panic inside. Because the conversation wasn't very intense and people were joking around, I wasn't sure if she realized I meant that I have one, or if she thought I was just throwing it out there as an ironic and even humorous possibility. But I was now panicked and devastated all at once. What to do??

I knew I had to talk to my rabbi about it, but I was just so mortified. In our next meeting, when she asked as always what we had discussed in class, I mentioned the tattoo conversation. I mentioned it for my own sake, hoping to find the courage to make the segue, but I just couldn't. I was so afraid of how she might judge me. She is not at all a judgmental person; she is one of the most open and warm-hearted people I have ever met in my life. But it was about my insecurities, not about her.

I fretted about it some more, and then dropped it for a while. Then in our last meeting, she said my homework was to think of anything else I want to learn or any unresolved issues I want to discuss before finalizing my conversion. I had nothing on my mind at the moment, but as soon as we got in the car, it hit me. I said, "My tattoo. This is the open invitation to discuss it. I have to." I was anxious but also relieved that there was such an opportunity. I didn't have to find a way to slip it in somewhere. She was basically asking me, "Is there anything holding you back? Let's discuss it."

So that has been the plan. To talk about it when I next saw her. Then at the oneg last night, Nicole and I were chatting with our new friend C, one of the two single women that attend services regularly with whom we have begun to build a warm rapport. C is very funny and was making jokes about the mikvah after a temple member had come over to ask about my conversion date. She said she had never been to one and didn't think she could do it, didn't think she could have someone watch her immerse naked. I said, "Well Rabbi said no one has to watch, that with Reform conversions, it's okay for her to just stand outside the door  with it ajar so she hears the splash and hears the blessing." C said, "I know several people who have gone to the mikvah, and I'm pretty sure an attendant has to be there." I said, "Crap, I'm totally going to get kicked out of the mikvah when she sees my cross tattoo!" C started laughing hysterically, which was contagious, and when we finally caught our breath, she kept asking if I was serious and asked to see it.

She then said pretty much what my teacher had, that I should get it covered or removed. I told her the obstacles, and she said she thinks I could do something like a tree that would look nice. She suggested I get a consultation and then really take time to think about the designs and she would be happy to advise. She also offered to use a design to cover it with henna. That didn't seem kosher to me either, though, because henna is temporary and thus a barrier between my body and the water. (You're not supposed to have nail polish on, contacts in, etc.) But if I had to have it covered with another permanent tattoo, then we'd have to put off my conversion because I wouldn't be able to get a tattoo and have it heal in the next three weeks.

Then one of us - I don't remember who - suggested that I call the mikvahs first just to ask their policy. This idea calmed me because it let the rest of it be a bridge I could cross later if needed. I thought if I could get an answer on that in the next few days, I could decide how to move forward. I felt the pressure of knowing my rabbi was calling around trying to make April 19 work, and that I might have to say "never mind, how about June?" when it could have been avoided if I'd just had the courage to talk to her about it sooner.

This morning I went to Torah study (my third one, and I love it!) and realized pretty quickly that I just had to talk to her today. I knew I wouldn't have a lot of time with her because it wasn't scheduled and she probably had a busy day, but I knew I had to pull her aside just for five minutes or so to talk about this. It wasn't ideal because I had been saving this for our next meeting, knowing my feelings about it could lead to a lengthy conversation, but now that it could impact my conversion date and was weighing so heavily on me, I had to bring it up. I figured I could just ask about the attendant for now, and still save the heavy tattoo conversation for later. But I guess that would only have worked if she'd said, "Nope, definitely no one will be in there." Otherwise I would still have to address it now before she kept calling around to set a date.

So after the group started dispersing, and after the last two women who were engaging Rabbi in conversation finally left, I said, "There won't be an attendant in the room with me when I actually immerse, right? C said she thinks there has to be, and that made me nervous. I just need time to adjust to that idea if that's the case." Rabbi said, "It depends where we go. We are usually permitted to do our own thing so usually I just stand outside the door. But if we go somewhere that requires that, it will be someone of the same gender, so it's okay." OHGOD. So I said, "Okay, well it's not really about modesty..." And I told her everything.

Her face did not change. She did not raise an eyebrow. She did not frown. She didn't so much as blink. She just listened, told me it was okay, and then hugged me tight when I burst into tears of relief. She said that I could do what I felt comfortable with whenever I felt like I needed to, for myself, and that it had nothing to do with my conversion and was certainly not a barrier. She said it's my body and not to cover it up with henna because the ritual is about purifying. She said that she couldn't believe I'd been holding this in all this time, letting it weigh on me. I told her I didn't want to be disrespectful, or for the mikvah people to say, "See? This is why we shouldn't allow Reforms to use our mikvah." I didn't want to embarrass or bring shame. Rabbi smiled and said that if someone has to be in the room with me, it can be her. She hugged me and said, "Be liberated."

And oh I am. How sweet during the holiday of Passover, when we talk about how it is not just an opportunity to tell the story of freedom from over two thousand years ago, but also a time to reflect on where we are still enslaved - mentally, emotionally. And here I had no insight into how I was letting this patch of ink wreak havoc on my psyche. I was overwhelmed by Rabbi's unconditional love and acceptance. After crying most of the way home, and then again as I related the story to Nicole, I began to just feel so relieved and loved and all the more eager to come home to my community.

Tuesday, March 26, 2013

My First Passover (sort of)

I say "sort of" because I have attended a few at Nicole's parents' but this is my first time hosting. Last year, my mother-in-law half-seriously suggested we host - "YOU guys should be doing this now, since you're getting so Jewish." We had been attending services all of three months, and I panicked and said, "I have no idea what I'm doing, I haven't converted yet!" Well, I still haven't converted, but this year I asked three months ago whether we could host and have been excited ever since.

Passover shopping was so much fun. I had no idea all the things that are marketed toward us! Wheat-free breakfast cereal, chocolate chip cookie mix, etc. We went to Fairway, which has an entire kosher deli area, and indeed they had a whole section set up for Passover. Much better than Stop & Shop where we had to hunt around to find even one shelf, and the only matzah they had wasn't even kosher for Passover. My mother-in-law had agreed to make a brisket and a baked chicken since we are squeamish about making big meats like that, so we bought her the chicken and then all the fixings for our side dishes and seder plate.

I am SO BLESSED to work for a Jewish organization that honors the holidays on which you are not supposed to work. Growing up, these holidays were just strange words on the calendar, much like "Boxing Day (Canada)". I didn't actually know anyone who celebrated them or who even knew what they were. When I began working at my current agency in 2006 and learned we closed for certain holidays, they were freebie days off and I loved it. When I started the process of conversion, I thought I would feel disappointed that they were no longer such freebies because now they would come with things I had to do. Instead, I LOVE doing these things and feel so fortunate that I have the time to. Instead of feeling disappointed or even resentful that I couldn't just get off at 1:00 and go hang out in the city or kick up my heels and watch a movie, I felt grateful that I had time to cook. I knew I'd be hosting this seder no matter what, and it helped immensely to have that extra time.



I had so much fun breaking out our wedding china for the first time. In fact, so much of what we used at our seder had been a gift - the silverware, candlesticks, crystal bowl, tablecloth, and cloth napkins. It was fun remembering who gave us what and finally feeling an occasion to use them.



Our seder was a bit unconventional as we tried to navigate it on our own for the first time. For instance, we got to a point in the haggadah where it said to eat the meal and then have the third and fourth cup of wine afterward. At my in-laws' we have always finished the entire seder before eating, so Nicole was nervous that we were doing something wrong, but I insisted we just go along with the book. Maybe her family has been doing it wrong this whole time, who knows?

I also made a few adjustments to our seder plate that I'm sure are totally unkosher. I didn't want to go buy a lamb shank bone. I'm not sure why I was so resistant to that, but I was. I just knew that they're in high demand right now so the prices get jacked up and all for something symbolic - it's clearly not the paschal lamb itself, so why can't something else symbolize it just as well? My mother-in-law uses a wishbone from the chicken she bakes, and I read elsewhere that some people just use a piece of the actual meat they'll be using, so that already seemed like an endorsement of some creativity. Then I happened across something a couple days ago that said vegetarians (despite not eating the bone, clearly an animal was still killed to get it) may use a fresh beet cut open to look bloody. That clicked with me immediately, so I got a bunch of beets, cut one open (it really did look bloody!), and then cooked the rest with their greens. Of course I also read later that you shouldn't eat roast meat because it can seem like you are taking the paschal sacrifice back outside the temple for yourself, so that probably goes for the beets too, but I wasn't about to waste them.

Then for the maror, Nicole completely objected to horseradish, despite my telling her that it's not supposed to be an enjoyable snack, that the displeasure of tasting it is exactly the point. So I got romaine lettuce, which felt like a cop-out since it's not nearly so bitter as horseradish, though I did read that it's an acceptable substitute.

For my AMAZING, DELICIOUS, OH-SO-PROUD-OF-IT charoset, I replaced the walnuts with dates because my coworker that I invited over has a bad nut allergy. Then I put everything on a bread tray since we don't have a seder plate yet. (A Reconstructionist colleague of mine has generously offered to give me hers, a nice ceramic one made in Israel. She is moving in with her rabbi fiancee in New Hampshire and can't bring it with her since it's not kosher for some reason and her fiancee keeps kosher.)

My Orthodox colleague would totally cringe at this photo if I put it on Facebook, but I am very proud.


I later put out an orange on the plate as well, which represents equality for women and the LGBT population, after some male rabbi in the 70s told the first female rabbi that "a woman belongs up on the bimah like an orange belongs on a seder plate." But I forgot it in the fridge and didn't take a second photo when I brought it out.

Here is my totally unfancy matzah plate. They are on an everyday dinner dish and separated by paper napkins. This was quite the improvised seder!


Having the hard-boiled egg on the seder plate, and then the tradition of hiding a piece of the matzah - the "afikoman," or dessert - for a child to find after the meal and receive a prize for it was such a reminder of the similarities between Passover and Easter. It makes sense that the Jews who eventually followed Jesus and became Christians would adapt a long-held tradition to fit with their new religion. So while an Easter egg hunt may feel like a secular activity (or even pagan, considering the very similar rituals and symbols for Ostara), it can actually be connected back to Judeo-Christian roots.

Hosting was super stressful, and I got the Jewish Mom experience of barely being able to eat with people because I was always in the kitchen prepping the next course, but it was so rewarding to see people enjoying themselves. And people raved in particular about my charoset and my matzoh ball soup - my first time making both. I'm getting teary-eyed as I write this - it just felt so good to be making things that felt like home but that I have never done before, and to do them well.

This was the menu - get ready to be jealous.

My mother-in-law brought:
--a whole baked Murray's chicken with leeks
--brisket with mushroom gravy
--potato kugel (store-bought)
--latkes (homemade and DELISH)

We made:
--roasted beets with greens
--sauteed spinach and mushrooms
--roasted asparagus
--salad
--mashed sweet potatoes (store-bought)
--matzoh ball soup (MY FAVORITE SOUP EVER, where have you been all my life??)
--flour-free chocolate chip cookies (from a box)
--charoset for the seder plate

And my brother-in-laws' girlfriend made flourless chocolate cake. She is Catholic and it was so sweet that she put so much work into a recipe she has never tried before. Last year she bought one from Magnolia, but it cost over $60 so she nervously tried it herself - and it came out AMAZING. It's pretty much a fudgy chocolate stick of butter. Heart attack/diabetic coma/heaven.

I was glad we had a small turnout because I knew we would be kind of fumbling through our first seder. But Nicole's family aren't exactly pros themselves (which is why when I first met Nicole, I expressed horror that she wouldn't be able to teach this to her children - thus the beginning of my journey!) and they were so supportive. Nicole's brother even said to her that he was impressed at how smoothly Nicole was able to read the Hebrew blessings compared to last year.

And I love that we are creating new traditions - though Nicole was a bit resistant! Because I don't have a Jewish background of my own, I think she took it for granted that I would just be taking on her family's traditions, that I would be replicating how they do and make everything. But how can you when you're a different person? She didn't expect me to already be changing it up a bit and making it our own. Two examples: 1.) I refused to use the Lipton noodle soup that she bought in the matzah ball soup, because you aren't supposed to have noodles during Passover. Nicole said, "But Mom makes it that way, everyone likes it that way, otherwise it's just broth!" And I said, "Well I'm hosting this year, so people will eat it how I make it. I am NOT using noodles on Passover." She pouted but then never said another word because everyone loved the soup and not one person said, "But where are the noodles??" 2.) "But Mom chops up the apples for the charoset chunky, not small like that. And you can't leave out walnuts and put in DATES! Dates?? I won't eat it! Oh, yum..."

Nicole struggles because she has always been "Jewish enough." She has never struggled to identify as Jewish, no matter how that was or was not practiced, so she is resistant to doing "extra." For instance, she is in shock that I am actually abstaining from wheat and grain products for the full eight days. But she went from making obnoxious comments initially to now saying she would agree to joining me for the first 24 hours. For my change-fearing, stuck-in-her-ways wife, that is a big deal.

It was a pleasure to be able to give my mother-in-law a break. The Jewish observance in her family seems to be dissolving with every generation (and with every interfaith marriage, including her own) and she is the only one who even still holds a seder, so it's on her every year. She kept raving about how happy she was just to be able to make the meat and bring it over and have us doing the rest.

We may only be able to keep it alive another couple generations before it gets watered down again, but we will do our damnedest to impart the importance of keeping these traditions and this culture alive. I am hopeful.

Next year in Jerusalem!

Tuesday, March 19, 2013

So Much Has Changed...

...and yet so little!

For my conversion, I have to write an essay on my journey, basically just about why I want to become Jewish. Whether I write about this or not, I felt the need to tap into how I felt waaay back when, because memory is flawed and it has been such a gradual process that it's hard to remember exactly how I got to be where I am.

My first post on this blog is from January 2012, the month we first attended services at our current temple, so I had to go back to my old locked journal on LiveJournal to try to see where it started. I had a "spiritual journey" tag and it brought me to a January 2005 post with a meme about what I believed in. This is when I had been in New York for exactly four months and still had no real exposure to Judaism. But I did know that I didn't identify as Christian anymore. I still placed a lot of importance on Jesus and his teachings, but didn't believe he was God or the son of God.

Looking at this meme from that place in my life, eight years ago, at age 21, I am impressed with how much of what I believed then reflects what I still believe now, and without Judaism anywhere on my radar at the time! The fact that those beliefs fit so neatly into my current chosen religion is pretty amazing to me. The only thing I don't still believe in is reincarnation.  That's an idea I flirted around with for maybe a year or so, and sure it's possible, but it's not something I believe in. I'm also less sure about ghosts - but very unsure when it comes to that, and feel that it's not really relevant to me anyway so I don't sweat it.

So here it is:

do you believe in:

-heaven: yes. more of a different spiritual plane than a land of milk and honey though. because milk comes from bodies which I'm pretty sure won't be up there, and honey from bees and again.... And golden roads? As if. Gold is man's materialistic desire. Souls have no need for it.
-hell: no, I think it's a man-made idea to scare us into being good
-angels: not sure. I'd like to.
-devil: no. to me the concept of a devil is just what is bad and against what God wants, and people have to make that into something more concrete and give it a name so they can blame things on it
-God: absolutely
-Buddha: uh yeah I'm pretty sure he really existed
-aliens: I believe in the possibility of life on other planets. being the mere speck on a speck on a speck that we are in the universe, it'd be pretty self-centered to think we can be the only living things out there. But I don't think there is life in our solar system, and I don't think the life that is out there comes with almond shaped green eyes and the ability to transform itself into our kind and invade our planet without our knowledge. In other words, I believe in the possibility of other life but not in sci-fi's creations of it.
-ghosts: yes
-spirit (soul): yes
-soulmates: yes but I think there are many kinds so we can have more than one
-reincarnation: yes, there is too much for us to learn before we can be worthy of being in the presence of God and I don't see that we can get all that in one lifetime. so instead of hell I believe in more of a working up the ladder through reincarnation.
-love at first sight: no. You can't love someone you don't know. You can feel a connection, but that doesn't mean it's real. It's a nice storybook idea though.
-karma: I want to but I don't think I do.
-luck: yes
-yourself: yes

Another post is in response to the "Writer's Block" question of the day that LiveJournal would host, and this one was about beliefs in general. This was in September 2010, shortly before deciding I wanted to convert and way before I really knew what that would entail or what Jews are "supposed" to believe. You can see my skepticism and distrust of organized religion juxtaposed with my desire for connectedness and belonging. Here is some of what I posted:

I believe that we are here to make the world a better place than we found it, to show love and compassion, and to help every opportunity we get. I believe that attitude is everything, and that there is a lot to be said for finding meaning in suffering. I believe that hope leads to more positive outcomes than cynicism. I believe that home should be your sanctuary, and if it's not, you need to do some soul-searching about what should change...and it may turn out to be you.

As far as religious beliefs, I make a conscious choice to believe in God. I recognize that my spiritual beliefs may be only in my head and have no basis in reality, and I'm okay with that. Believing in God feels good. It gives me a sense of peace and safety. I use the word God because that's what I was given in my particular religious and cultural background, but God to me isn't a single masculine body. God is an energy and a beauty that can be found everywhere. God is a connectedness between all life forms. God is the universe.

I'm not really comfortable with the word "faith" because I hear it too often used as proof of how devout someone is, as an antidote to fear of the unknown. I'm okay with doubting, with feeling a little anxious sometimes that there may be nothing more to life than earth and living cells. I revel in the earth and in my physicality here, and that is unaffected by this unknown; but I do feel afraid of it all ending, of having no spiritual continuance, of losing someone and truly losing them in every sense except memory, with no spiritual connection to them. So I choose to believe in an afterlife, and in a general connectedness of people's energies even while alive. For me faith is making an active choice to believe in something even while you have a fear that it may not be so. It's not supposed to be easy.

don't believe that any one organized religion has it right and that others have it wrong. This was part of my spiritual struggle in my early 20s that led me away from Christianity. I think that different cultures and societies interpret and reach God in a way that makes sense to them, within their context and even their time period, which is why I believe in the evolution of religions as the context and time period shifts, if a particular culture/society feels that evolution is needed. (See: Liberal Catholicism, Reform Judaism, etc.)

For me it's important to raise my kids with a basic foundation, however unstructured it may be, so that they can grasp the concept of God. As they grow up, they are free to evolve into whatever spirituality suits them, or free themselves of it entirely. But as Nicole can attest to (she was raised by a Catholic father and a Jewish mother and is agnostic because they passed nothing on to her), it's much easier to decide later in life not to believe in something than it is to try to start believing in something you were never told about.

Sunday, March 17, 2013

Speaking Pride, Acting Invisible

Last night we went to Nicole's cousin's engagement party. As seems to be Long Island/NYC tradition, it was  a lavish affair despite the family being very middle-class. People really stretch their pockets for these kinds of things here and it is such a culture shock from what I grew up with. Whether you want to attribute that to my southern background or being raised by one parent from the midwest and another from rural upstate New York, it's all the same as far as this goes. We are modest, humble people, and while these are beautiful events, I've been to enough by now to know it's the norm here and that it will be a struggle for me someday when it's for my own child who will expect what they see around them. Especially because I married a Long Islander (and into a family here) for whom this doesn't seem so crazy, so I feel like I will be the only one thinking it doesn't make sense to go broke for parties.

But anyway...those are feelings that come up with every engagement party, bridal shower, baby shower, First Communion, etc. that I attend, so I will try to check my conflicting emotions and stick to the topic.

At the party (which was complete with a seated 5-course dinner, DJ and dancing, favors, table assignments, open beer and wine bar, personalized menus, centerpieces, a sweetheart table, and a "practice" father-daughter dance) Nicole and I kind of sat back during the dancing and frivolity. We generally do, because it's never comfortable to be the one same-sex couple on the dance floor at someone else's main and very heterosexual event. Neither of us are extraverted or enjoy dancing, so it's typically not that difficult. But when a slow song comes on and we get kind of mushy, we usually just look at each other but don't get up and dance. We know we aren't in an environment where everyone is necessarily comfortable with gayness, and we don't want to draw attention at someone else's party. We don't want someone's engagement to have shadows of "there were two GIRLS dancing together there, who were they, are you related to them??"

About an hour before the end of the party, the DJ invited alllll couples up to the dance floor while he played "Unchained Melody" (also known as the song from Ghost). I told Nicole that if enough people truly went up there and I felt we could blend in, then I'd want to dance. So the floor soon got crowded and we went up there. About five seconds later, Nicole's 19-year-old cousin and his boyfriend joined, coming up right next to us, and I immediately felt shame for not having come up sooner. This kid was 16 when we our engagement made him feel he could finally come out (not to anyone's surprise, but to his father and brother's not-unexpected levels of almost cruel disapproval where they still use the term "faggot" in everyday conversation). He looked up to us and used us as his litmus test for what he could expect to experience. Seeing the warm reception that his big cousin Nicole got when we got engaged made him feel like he could be warmly accepted and loved by his extended family, if not by his own father and brother. At our wedding, he was near tears as he told us how happy he was for us and how we had changed everything for him.

And now, here we were modeling shame, or at the very least discomfort, at probably the first big family event where he has actually found the courage to bring a date, much to his father and brother's chagrin. All it took was our bit of reassurance to give him the freedom to enjoy dancing with his boyfriend like he'd probably wanted to all night.

I told Nicole as we danced that we have to be better about that and less scared or less desirous of being invisible. We knew her cousin was right there at our table and we didn't even think about the impact our behavior would have on him, the example we were setting without knowing it. Imagine in a room of less familiar people where we don't know who is out there, what young kid might be struggling with feeling comfortable in their own skin. As confident adults, we have a responsibility to be ourselves where it is safe to do so. We don't have to be anything we aren't - we will NEVER be cutting a rug on a dance floor for hours - but intentionally avoiding something we want to do because we don't want to make waves, essentially apologizing for our existence, is not something we want to model for anyone. And we certainly don't want our kids one day to feel a sense of shame from us - "All the other married people are dancing to this slow song, why aren't you?" Yeah no. It's not just about us.

Thursday, March 14, 2013

This is What a Jew Looks Like - Part 2

I have a dear friend at work that I used to live right across from in eastern Queens. It was the oddest coincidence, considering we both work in the south Bronx, and her building was literally right across from mine. When she was promoted to supervisor (while I was still a therapist) and came from the Brooklyn office to the Bronx, we soon ran into each other coming off the subway and started traveling together, eventually becoming inseparable. This bond has remained despite my having moved to Long Island in September and our fears that the absence of our shared daily commute would lead us to drift apart.

I don’t make genuine friends easily. I tend to feel left out of the group for whatever reason, and do best connecting one-on-one with a sincere, down-to-earth person who doesn’t have high, needy expectations of me. This is rarer to encounter than one might think. She is one of those delightful surprises. And she is a very private person who won’t add work people to her Facebook (I made the cut!) so I know our friendship was a surprise to her too.

This morning she called out sick but is on evening coverage so she was calling around to find someone to switch with her. Of course we ended up talking about everything BUT who could cover for her, and she was saying that she doesn’t watch TV when she’s sick – or ever, really – and was just staring at the wall all day. I said, “That sounds boring!” and she said, “Not really. I used to live without TV or Internet and did just fine. I could be a great Jew.” I said, “yeah you would, you’d celebrate the hell out of Shabbat!” She started cracking up and that’s when she admitted to me that she had panicked as soon as she spoke thinking she’d put her foot in her mouth and worrying that, in her dramatic words, she “could lose our friendship forever” because she might have offended me. She said my reaction just made her love me all the more.

I love that she could forget for a split second that I’m becoming Jewish because it means I’m breaking her preconceived notions of what that means. Previously when she has known of someone being Jewish, she automatically feels a bit of a separation, just in that they are part of a culture she doesn’t fully understand. But I’m someone she knows and understands and she is alongside me as I choose Judaism. She's been witness to a gradual process. It’s almost like I’m sneaking my way in. I think it makes it more tangible for her and less intimidating, and that fascinates me. It reminds me of a video we watched in class that had a segment called “This is what a Jew looks like,” which included such a diverse range of people. I will soon also be what a Jew looks like.



What I also think is interesting is that two separate comments today inspired me to write about them. I need extra time in life – for every two-minute interaction, I need another ten minutes to process it in writing!

This is What a Jew Looks Like

My secularly (“culturally”?) Jewish former supervisor just came by my office to tease me affectionately about my music. He said, “You know you’ll have to listen to something else after you convert, right? I don’t think they let Jews listen to country music.” We were cracking up together for a good minute.

What this made me think of is how I don’t share the same cultural background as born-Jews. I share the same destiny and a communal history, and my family will share the traditions and the faith and the community, but I have a whole personal cultural background of my own that will still be part of who I am. I will not blend so easily within my community, and will not stand out so easily outside of my community. This is such an interesting facet of what Jews-by-choice bring to Judaism that I hadn’t put much thought into before.

There is a sad hole tonight where my Intro to Judaism class used to be, and I so wish I could bring this back to the other converts to discuss!

Sunday, March 10, 2013

Feminist Faith

Tonight I went to a Women's Seder at our synagogue. I don't think I really knew what to expect, and I was totally blown away.

When I was first notified of the seder, I had wanted to sign up, but Nicole knew she wouldn't be up to two majorly social events in one day (we had my friend Allyson's engagement party from 12-3 in Roslyn). I debated whether to go by myself or not. I had gone by myself to my first Torah study about a month ago and enjoyed it immensely; it was a good reminder that I can do things I'm interested in even if Nicole isn't up for it. But this would be a much more social event, and I thought I might feel really awkward by myself.

There are two other women our age who attend services regularly, and we have gotten quite comfortable with them. One of them is on Facebook and messaged us a few days ago saying they were both wondering if we were going to the seder. I told them Nicole wouldn't be going so I had been on the fence about it, but would go if they were so I would be able to sit with people I know. She broke it to me that they would both be singing during the event so they wouldn't be sitting at the regular tables. Bummer, but her reaching out was the motivation I needed to commit.

It was held in the ballroom where they have bar and bat mitzvah parties and maybe even wedding receptions. It was a gorgeous room and was set up so beautifully. Everyone kept asking me where Nicole was and I had to keep explaining that she was overwhelmed and overstimulated from the first social event and wasn't up for a second. It was sweet that she was missed!

We are members of this synagogue, and I am studying with this rabbi, because we were so warmly welcomed at the first service we attended. As two major introverts, the importance of that can't be overstated. I got the same feeling tonight, except with even more genuine warmth because people are getting to know us. The woman whose face was the first I ever saw, who greeted us and showed us where to go that first day in January of last year, invited me to sit with her. She was helping get the event started so she told me the name of someone she was sitting with so I could find the table. Well of course I didn't know who that person was, so I still started to wander a little aimlessly. Then the mother of one of the young women I mentioned earlier, who also sits near us every week at services, greeted me excitedly and invited me over to her table with her mother-in-law. Then there were two other women who knew each other, and a family of five with four generations of Jewish women - great-grandmother, grandmother, mother (the other two are her in-laws), and two little girls about 7 and 9. Absolutely beautiful.

The seder recognized and made visible the ignored and minimized roles of women in the Exodus and throughout biblical history. I can't even say more than that to honor this event without typing up the entire haggadah. It was moving and empowering and I heard two different women say it made them wish they had daughters to share this with.

Can I love liberal Judaism any more?? What's next? This seder made me proud of my synagogue and proud to be a Jew. Or proud to be becoming a Jew, I guess I should say. I also just so appreciated the company. We had some captivating conversations about Judaism in general when one woman revealed that her son and his wife had become Orthodox after having both been raised Reform, and how that impacts her grandchildren's level of observance, how she hosts holidays, etc. It was so refreshing to be around a group of Jews having this kind of discussion. With my beloved Intro to Judaism class having just ended last Thursday, it was a much-needed reminder that I can still have that sense of community and engaging conversation.

Sunday, March 3, 2013

"The Tenant"

We've found a way to get ourselves into a more financially comfortable place for baby-planning - we allowed Nicole's friend's fiancee to move in with us temporarily. She is paying weekly rent much cheaper than anywhere you'd be able to find on Craigslist, and it gives us some much-needed cash toward straightening out our house expenses.

We had our reservations in the beginning, particularly regarding not knowing her very well and just not being sure how we would feel about having a third person in our space. But we knew we needed money, Nicole's friend needed help, and it is intended to be a reassuringly short-term arrangement since the two plan to move in together at the end of the summer. We cleared one shelf in the fridge, one shelf in the pantry, and welcomed her in.

It has been going GREAT. It's only been a little over a week, but so far so good. She is quiet (I can't handle too much chattiness around me all the time) and respectful and a kind person. She gave us a deposit and pays her rent in cash every Friday, and we barely know she's here. Any issues that have come up have been around setting boundaries for the girlfriend, who is Nicole's friend and feels like we shouldn't have any issue with her just being over all the time. But we are enforcing boundaries and it's being settled, and our tenant is agreeable to anything we ask in regards to this.

So the yellow room is occupied, and not by the little tenant we had expected. But this arrangement is helping us get there all the faster. We are so eager and ready!

Saturday, March 2, 2013

Intro to Judaism - Week 15

This week in class, Rabbi Emily asked the question, "How does a Jew-by-choice connect with Israel and identify with Israel as a homeland?" This was a fascinating question, and I was eager for the discussion. However, the first person to respond spoke about how it can be difficult to develop a loyalty to a homeland that is not always so welcoming of liberal Jews. This led to an interesting discussion about Israeli politics etc. but we never really returned to the rabbi's question as far as specifically relating it to converts and making it personal, so I kept it to myself and figured it would make for a good journal topic.

I have always connected to Israel because it's part of my history too. As a Catholic, it was the Holy Land. As far back as I can remember, we read in both the Old and New Testament about cities such as Jerusalem, Canaan, Galilee, Bethlehem, and Nazareth. Without a core cultural identity to any other family roots in Europe (we are such mutts!), ancient Israel was my root. The fact that those places really - and still - existed always fascinated me, because it made that history so alive. Though my ancestors eventually chose to follow Jesus and identify as Christians, we come from the same beginnings and the same people. I, too, am a blood descendant of Abraham and Sarah.

Where it differs for me as  Jew-by-choice is that I have always identified with Israel as representative of ancient history, without much interest in or connection to its present or its future. I always wanted to travel there, but to feel a part of my history, not so much out of an interest in current life there, the people, the food, the social issues. Forming this identity is slow and ongoing, and I doubt I can ever feel the exact same connection as a born Jew because I did not grow up with its relevance. I'm okay with that, because it's who I am and where I came from and makes me who I am now. My journey does not have to mirror that of a born-Jew, and I don't see how it could. I think that makes my contribution to the community - the contribution of all Jews-by-choice - valuable in its own right because we have a different experience of our own that also matters.

Ironically, last Monday afternoon I ended up in a conversation with a woman who identified herself as Arab, while I was on the Long Island Railroad heading to meet with my rabbi. She was reading Entertainment Weekly over my shoulder and saw the article about the movie Argo. She asked me if I had seen it and then went into a monologue about how she wasn't surprised that it won Best Picture because Hollywood is run by Jews and they love anti-Arab films. See also: The Hurt Locker (2010 Best Picture). See also: Zero Dark Thirty (2013 Best Picture Nominee) I felt very ill-prepared for this conversation, and admittedly more than a little uncomfortable. 

This wasn't a privileged Gentile speaking, so while I felt a little defensive, I also didn't know at all what this Arab-American woman's experience is, and struggled with speaking out as a person who technically isn't a part of either minority. We can have a whole discussion here about how I failed at "casting my lot with the Jewish people" by not outing myself as a Jew-to-be, but I had that conversation extensively with my rabbi that same afternoon and don't feel the need to revisit that in writing right now. What I want to talk about here is my lack of ability to identify with Israel in that moment. I didn't know that the idea of Jews "running" Hollywood was even a thing. I also didn't know much about Jew-Arab relations in general. This ignorance made me feel separate from Jews in a way I haven't in quite some time. It made me feel defensive of a people who are dear to me more so than defensive of myself. However, I did not want to discount her own painful history as an Arab-American out of my uninformed defensiveness. All of this internal conflict contributed to my silence.

What I wanted to say was that I didn't get why she was placing so much focus on whether Jews and Arabs like one another, and none on the fact that our country as a whole would probably be pretty okay with not having either of us around - or at least not too loud, or too successful, or you pick the area where it may feel threatening and draw criticism and prejudice. But are those thoughts from me as an objective person interested in social issues rather than the personal opinion and reaction as a Jew-to-be? If I had been born a Jew, I imagine my reactions may have been quite different. The defensiveness and discomfort that washed over me may have been experienced in addition to other more painful or intense emotions. I likely would have heard this stereotype about Jews in Hollywood many times already, and may have just rolled my eyes and challenged it without taking it too seriously. I may have had more facts and knowledge in my arsenal about this subject and been able to engage in an intellectual conversation that challenged both of us to open our minds.

But I didn't. My connection to Israel is newly forming and tenuous at this point. I have never been good at keeping up with current events, but have subscribed to the Tablet and a few Jewish blogs and read any article in my email that even somewhat interests me. It's a relationship that is new, and will require work and nurturing and understanding to sustain its continued growth. What I do know is that I see Israel as where I come from, and with the new level of vulnerability that converting opens me up to, I feel a sense of security in having a homeland, and an obligation to protect and sustain her.