Celebrate Bisexuality Day!
(Keshet lists some notable bisexual Jews...)
Showing posts with label Jewish. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Jewish. Show all posts
Monday, September 24, 2012
Thursday, September 20, 2012
"Giving to The Needy is a Jewish Obligation"
Rabbi On The 47 Percent: Giving To Needy Is A Jewish Obligation
(Rabbi Soffer is one of my Rabbis at Temple Israel. And an all-around cool guy.)
And yes, as some of the commentators of this article point out, giving to the needy should be a human obligation which transcends spiritual beliefs - but clearly it's not practiced as such, which for me makes Tzedakah all the more urgent, important, and meaningful.
(Rabbi Soffer is one of my Rabbis at Temple Israel. And an all-around cool guy.)
And yes, as some of the commentators of this article point out, giving to the needy should be a human obligation which transcends spiritual beliefs - but clearly it's not practiced as such, which for me makes Tzedakah all the more urgent, important, and meaningful.
Sunday, February 13, 2011
Theirs versus ours: (my continuing process with so-called secular holidays)
9 Adar 1
By the "secular" calendar’s reckoning today is Sunday, Feb. 13th, the day before Valentine’s Day. I posted on that certain social network my own thoughts about the overt and gross commercialization of Love. A friend (who never fails to leave my thoughts provoked and various parts of me tickled) pointed out that V-Day is a "Christian holiday" and to remember, hel-lo, I now have my own through Judaism to enjoy.
True, true, true! But that appreciation isn’t happening in a bubble. There’s a distinct conversion context I am writing from. This being my first round on the Jewish calendar, I am going to continue to see "secular"/Christian holidays in a way I had never before - as theirs, not mine - and begin to embrace Jewish holidays/HHD as my own. (My first Rosh Hashanah, Yom Kippur, Simchat Torah and the first night of Hanukkah all remain beautiful memories and gifts unto themselves.) For me this memory-making is a shedding of old rituals to let new Jewish religious/cultural aspects fit true to my form.
As Billy Crystal says, "It’s a process."
One observation from this transitional state is not only seeing how ubiquitous Christian-based holidays are in the United States (which I believe, despite its diversity, can be incredibly theocratic) but keenly feeling their influences. I went through a hard phase back in December during Hanukkah and Christmas. This time around is not so bad, although I do feel the cloying cultural pressure to be with someone, what’s wrong with me for being single, find someone who will take you out to dinner already, who will buy you flowers and chocolates NOW, who will have sex with you RIGHT NOW?
Obviously capitalism informs the over-arching commercial imperative to please be a good citizen and buy and consume, buy and consumer but there’s no escaping the truth that this is a Christian, Saintly-named holiday. I am growing a fond appreciation that Jewish holidays have not been co-opted by Mad Ave. and I can still immerse myself in the beauty of their message as opposed to their messaging.
So I’ll just skip over tomorrow’s cut roses and boxed chocolate, thank you very much, and instead focus on my first Purim and Passover. Let the Jewish wheel continue to turn!
By the "secular" calendar’s reckoning today is Sunday, Feb. 13th, the day before Valentine’s Day. I posted on that certain social network my own thoughts about the overt and gross commercialization of Love. A friend (who never fails to leave my thoughts provoked and various parts of me tickled) pointed out that V-Day is a "Christian holiday" and to remember, hel-lo, I now have my own through Judaism to enjoy.
True, true, true! But that appreciation isn’t happening in a bubble. There’s a distinct conversion context I am writing from. This being my first round on the Jewish calendar, I am going to continue to see "secular"/Christian holidays in a way I had never before - as theirs, not mine - and begin to embrace Jewish holidays/HHD as my own. (My first Rosh Hashanah, Yom Kippur, Simchat Torah and the first night of Hanukkah all remain beautiful memories and gifts unto themselves.) For me this memory-making is a shedding of old rituals to let new Jewish religious/cultural aspects fit true to my form.
As Billy Crystal says, "It’s a process."
One observation from this transitional state is not only seeing how ubiquitous Christian-based holidays are in the United States (which I believe, despite its diversity, can be incredibly theocratic) but keenly feeling their influences. I went through a hard phase back in December during Hanukkah and Christmas. This time around is not so bad, although I do feel the cloying cultural pressure to be with someone, what’s wrong with me for being single, find someone who will take you out to dinner already, who will buy you flowers and chocolates NOW, who will have sex with you RIGHT NOW?
Obviously capitalism informs the over-arching commercial imperative to please be a good citizen and buy and consume, buy and consumer but there’s no escaping the truth that this is a Christian, Saintly-named holiday. I am growing a fond appreciation that Jewish holidays have not been co-opted by Mad Ave. and I can still immerse myself in the beauty of their message as opposed to their messaging.
So I’ll just skip over tomorrow’s cut roses and boxed chocolate, thank you very much, and instead focus on my first Purim and Passover. Let the Jewish wheel continue to turn!
Some passing thoughts from along this Judaic path
So yeah, it’s true: I’m bad at giving directions. "Fairly horrible" might be a more accurate descriptor. I tend to mix up right and left when I'm nervous and would carefully explain to you in the most well-meaning tone how to get to the local T stop by way of California.
But if I met someone just starting out along a path of Jewish (or perhaps any religious) conversation, and they asked, I would share with them these few thoughts:
1 - You’re not trying to beat anyone to the mikveh (or whatever dedication ritual ends this process for you.). I’m certain it will still be there, filled with water, when you arrive. So downshift a couple of gears and come out of the passing lane, already! There’s too much beauty, too many desert blooms, along the side of this road to hyper-focus on the finish line. (And if you’re thinking of it in terms of a finish line, you might want to ask yourself if this process is truly a journey or just a means to an end.)
2. - Likewise, respect where other people are, or where they have been, along the conversion time-line, and hopefully they will respect wherever it is you’re at in return. People will rarely, if ever, be at the same place at the same time. Why should they be? Human individuality kinda negates that sort of impossible symmetry, especially for self-driven learning experiences.
3. Does this all seem much larger than you and those things you may hold dear (e.g., - Facebook, iPods, how many cylinders are humming beneath your hood, the holiday office party, the person you rolled over to find in your bed this morning )? That’s probably a good thing. I believe that spirituality should be larger than Steve Jobs’ latest toy, Lindsay Lohan’s latest bust, yesterday’s gossip or tomorrow’s midterm. Hey, we’re talking about how we come to understand Life, The Universe and Everything. This isn’t a set of Ikea instructions. If we’re not even a little overwhelmed and awestruck by that process, then what qualifies as wonder in our lives?
4. - Talk to people. Share your thoughts, your fears, your joys. Grab a coffee and a bagel with a shmear over at Rubin's with someone from your class, hook up with a Shabbos buddy, or ask a Rabbi. (They really like and appreciate that.) This process is experiential. It goes deep and stirs up still waters. It’s supposed to shake your foundations. (See #3). These are huge, far-reaching issues that make our hearts pound and questions that capture our thoughts. I’m not sure anyone could, or should, carry these alone. Maybe you can figure out what you need to in silence but I promise, that bagel tastes better across the table from someone else.
(And, and just so you know, there are no stupid questions. Seriously. And if anyone tells you differently, go find someone else to talk to.)
5. - Finally, I truly believe we all practice our own form of religion every day (if by religion you mean a way of relating to ourselves, each other and the cosmos). (And I do.) I see Socialism as a religion and Parenting is a religion, Sex for sure, Politics, too, Academia definitely, and even, paradoxically enough, Atheism. Each claims its own set of scriptures per se, qualified (or not) leaders, a specialized lexicon and time-tested rituals, an agreed-upon code of ethics, and settings. I remember this every time someone looks at me as a converting Jew a wee bit askance.
We all have a calling down some road. May it end up taking us to where we need to go.
But if I met someone just starting out along a path of Jewish (or perhaps any religious) conversation, and they asked, I would share with them these few thoughts:
1 - You’re not trying to beat anyone to the mikveh (or whatever dedication ritual ends this process for you.). I’m certain it will still be there, filled with water, when you arrive. So downshift a couple of gears and come out of the passing lane, already! There’s too much beauty, too many desert blooms, along the side of this road to hyper-focus on the finish line. (And if you’re thinking of it in terms of a finish line, you might want to ask yourself if this process is truly a journey or just a means to an end.)
2. - Likewise, respect where other people are, or where they have been, along the conversion time-line, and hopefully they will respect wherever it is you’re at in return. People will rarely, if ever, be at the same place at the same time. Why should they be? Human individuality kinda negates that sort of impossible symmetry, especially for self-driven learning experiences.
3. Does this all seem much larger than you and those things you may hold dear (e.g., - Facebook, iPods, how many cylinders are humming beneath your hood, the holiday office party, the person you rolled over to find in your bed this morning )? That’s probably a good thing. I believe that spirituality should be larger than Steve Jobs’ latest toy, Lindsay Lohan’s latest bust, yesterday’s gossip or tomorrow’s midterm. Hey, we’re talking about how we come to understand Life, The Universe and Everything. This isn’t a set of Ikea instructions. If we’re not even a little overwhelmed and awestruck by that process, then what qualifies as wonder in our lives?
4. - Talk to people. Share your thoughts, your fears, your joys. Grab a coffee and a bagel with a shmear over at Rubin's with someone from your class, hook up with a Shabbos buddy, or ask a Rabbi. (They really like and appreciate that.) This process is experiential. It goes deep and stirs up still waters. It’s supposed to shake your foundations. (See #3). These are huge, far-reaching issues that make our hearts pound and questions that capture our thoughts. I’m not sure anyone could, or should, carry these alone. Maybe you can figure out what you need to in silence but I promise, that bagel tastes better across the table from someone else.
(And, and just so you know, there are no stupid questions. Seriously. And if anyone tells you differently, go find someone else to talk to.)
5. - Finally, I truly believe we all practice our own form of religion every day (if by religion you mean a way of relating to ourselves, each other and the cosmos). (And I do.) I see Socialism as a religion and Parenting is a religion, Sex for sure, Politics, too, Academia definitely, and even, paradoxically enough, Atheism. Each claims its own set of scriptures per se, qualified (or not) leaders, a specialized lexicon and time-tested rituals, an agreed-upon code of ethics, and settings. I remember this every time someone looks at me as a converting Jew a wee bit askance.
We all have a calling down some road. May it end up taking us to where we need to go.
Saturday, February 5, 2011
The Call of Jewish Ethics
3 Adar, 5771
So Thursday night’s Intro to Judaism lesson touched upon a topic I had been waiting to delve into ever since Day One when I spotted it on my syllabus: Jewish ethics.
Does this sound dry, dull, perhaps even sleep-inducing? Not in the hands of the Temple Israel rabbi who led the class. (I am not mentioning his name only because I have not asked permission to do so yet. I’m pretty sure he wouldn’t mind but I am trying to keep some blogging ethics here. Note the emerging theme) His amicable lesson, interwoven with humor, kept us all engaged.. Throughout the evening we found ourselves splashing through ideas of justice and fairness, justice versus fairness, digging up definitions of charity and mishpat and squishing some tzedakah between our toes. It was muddy and messy and fun. Were you expecting something else?
I was excited about this because Jewish ethics was one of the reasons (Reform) Judaism had called to me. Remember, I had found this path after my prior spiritual G.P.S. stopped working and I ended up lost, wandering in the desert of civilization. Not that I was on the verge of committing any grievous moral sins but I was in need of some serious course correction to turn myself around. Not just an arrow-shaped signpost either (as any and every religion offers those up in abundance) but a whole new compass, a new understanding of how to read the terrain of Life.
European-based Paganism (which, post Constantine, arguably became a socio-political underground reaction to the totalitarian dogma of rising Christianity) did not come with a lot of built-in ethics. Oh, I found some motivation to do good in the framework of karma, some earnest Scott Cunningham writings, some underlying socialist values (as found Starhawk’s beautiful and beautifully written paean "The Fifth Sacred Thing") and, of course, a definitive pro-Gaia environmental responsibility (which I still try to practice.). None of this was particularly helpful though as my know world began collapsing on itself. The fact that there was no real Pagan canon on the topic more than a few decades’ old was all the more frustrating. Steelwork wasn’t exactly getting me a job to help pay the mounting bills or simply get some food.
As for Roman Catholicism/Christianity (which, for better or worse, I will lump together here), its moral code had given justification for various relatives and friends to believe 1) I was somehow handicapped, or a pariah, as transgender, or 2) doomed to Hell for being my gender expression and sexual orientation or 3) some combination thereof. It was difficult - okay, damn impossible - to sidle up to any notion of right or wrong based on a belief system that automatically marginalized me.
Why would I have thought that Judaism offered a user-friendly, far-reaching moral consciousness, especially since I had never stepped into a synagogue or cracked open the Torah before in my life? To this day I am not sure. I think what started me thinking along those terms was how, when things started to fall apart around me, it was my Jewish friends who put deed before creed and stepped up to help, offering not just prayers but real-world and real-life actions. Now to be fair, some of my non-Jewish friends, including my BFF, who is Buddhist and possesses one of the kindest hearts I know, also helped out. And not all of my Gentile family and friends even knew the true depth of my troubles. But for many who did, their offering of copious prayers for miracles, although very appreciated, was not always practical. Personally I blame the God-dispensing-miracles mind set that leads many of us into moral cul-de-sacs, going around and around looking for any egress.
And unlike Paganism, Judaic ethics had oh, a couple of thousand years history of trial and tribulation to fall back on. Its roots run all the way back to the base of Mt. Sinai. If that covenant didn’t wed the laws to the Children of Israel then the codifying of them generations later would. These laws (arguably the inspiration for The Constitution of The United, at least in part) seemed to have remarkable staying power.
That is not a coincidence. I think one of the reasons Jewish ethics have stood the test of time, I think, is that they are based in reality in both deed and creed. They are not checkmarks to be tallied up outside the fabled pearly gates by some halo-wearing bouncer the day after you die. They also aren’t based on some metaphysical boomerang that will always return to sender. (Which, by the way, I still believe in, just not as the basis for a spiritual morality.)
Does any of this mean because they are commanded, if not inspired, by mitzvot that Jews are less prone to do wrong than anyone else? I doubt it. It doesn’t matter in the end if you represent with a Star of David, a hijab, or a crucifix - human is human is human. But I think it is difficult to discount a set of ethics which first came into being (however you want to believe that happened) before two of three major world religions even existed.
And it was upon that solid foundation (carved from Mt. Sinai, perhaps) that I instinctively knew I needed to re-plant myself upon.
Standing there still - Stephanie
So Thursday night’s Intro to Judaism lesson touched upon a topic I had been waiting to delve into ever since Day One when I spotted it on my syllabus: Jewish ethics.
Does this sound dry, dull, perhaps even sleep-inducing? Not in the hands of the Temple Israel rabbi who led the class. (I am not mentioning his name only because I have not asked permission to do so yet. I’m pretty sure he wouldn’t mind but I am trying to keep some blogging ethics here. Note the emerging theme) His amicable lesson, interwoven with humor, kept us all engaged.. Throughout the evening we found ourselves splashing through ideas of justice and fairness, justice versus fairness, digging up definitions of charity and mishpat and squishing some tzedakah between our toes. It was muddy and messy and fun. Were you expecting something else?
I was excited about this because Jewish ethics was one of the reasons (Reform) Judaism had called to me. Remember, I had found this path after my prior spiritual G.P.S. stopped working and I ended up lost, wandering in the desert of civilization. Not that I was on the verge of committing any grievous moral sins but I was in need of some serious course correction to turn myself around. Not just an arrow-shaped signpost either (as any and every religion offers those up in abundance) but a whole new compass, a new understanding of how to read the terrain of Life.
European-based Paganism (which, post Constantine, arguably became a socio-political underground reaction to the totalitarian dogma of rising Christianity) did not come with a lot of built-in ethics. Oh, I found some motivation to do good in the framework of karma, some earnest Scott Cunningham writings, some underlying socialist values (as found Starhawk’s beautiful and beautifully written paean "The Fifth Sacred Thing") and, of course, a definitive pro-Gaia environmental responsibility (which I still try to practice.). None of this was particularly helpful though as my know world began collapsing on itself. The fact that there was no real Pagan canon on the topic more than a few decades’ old was all the more frustrating. Steelwork wasn’t exactly getting me a job to help pay the mounting bills or simply get some food.
As for Roman Catholicism/Christianity (which, for better or worse, I will lump together here), its moral code had given justification for various relatives and friends to believe 1) I was somehow handicapped, or a pariah, as transgender, or 2) doomed to Hell for being my gender expression and sexual orientation or 3) some combination thereof. It was difficult - okay, damn impossible - to sidle up to any notion of right or wrong based on a belief system that automatically marginalized me.
Why would I have thought that Judaism offered a user-friendly, far-reaching moral consciousness, especially since I had never stepped into a synagogue or cracked open the Torah before in my life? To this day I am not sure. I think what started me thinking along those terms was how, when things started to fall apart around me, it was my Jewish friends who put deed before creed and stepped up to help, offering not just prayers but real-world and real-life actions. Now to be fair, some of my non-Jewish friends, including my BFF, who is Buddhist and possesses one of the kindest hearts I know, also helped out. And not all of my Gentile family and friends even knew the true depth of my troubles. But for many who did, their offering of copious prayers for miracles, although very appreciated, was not always practical. Personally I blame the God-dispensing-miracles mind set that leads many of us into moral cul-de-sacs, going around and around looking for any egress.
And unlike Paganism, Judaic ethics had oh, a couple of thousand years history of trial and tribulation to fall back on. Its roots run all the way back to the base of Mt. Sinai. If that covenant didn’t wed the laws to the Children of Israel then the codifying of them generations later would. These laws (arguably the inspiration for The Constitution of The United, at least in part) seemed to have remarkable staying power.
That is not a coincidence. I think one of the reasons Jewish ethics have stood the test of time, I think, is that they are based in reality in both deed and creed. They are not checkmarks to be tallied up outside the fabled pearly gates by some halo-wearing bouncer the day after you die. They also aren’t based on some metaphysical boomerang that will always return to sender. (Which, by the way, I still believe in, just not as the basis for a spiritual morality.)
Does any of this mean because they are commanded, if not inspired, by mitzvot that Jews are less prone to do wrong than anyone else? I doubt it. It doesn’t matter in the end if you represent with a Star of David, a hijab, or a crucifix - human is human is human. But I think it is difficult to discount a set of ethics which first came into being (however you want to believe that happened) before two of three major world religions even existed.
And it was upon that solid foundation (carved from Mt. Sinai, perhaps) that I instinctively knew I needed to re-plant myself upon.
Standing there still - Stephanie
Wednesday, January 19, 2011
My Shabbat State of Mind
Wait, I remember thinking when I first started to read up on Shabbat early on in my Jewish odyssey. Hold up, hang on. You expect me to give up Friday nights? That traditional kick-off to the weekend, the frothy just reward every Monday-through-Friday nine-to-fiver suffers through a workweek to chug down with both hands? That happiest of happy hours, the evening of long dinners out, of movie dates and dancing late, bowling teams in smoky lanes and football games under the fabled bright lights?
Not that I ever rallied for the home team from the stands and I can’t remember the last time I had drunk my way to a Saturday morning hangover. All the same I still felt very possessive of my Friday evenings. The thought of surrendering all those long held oft-praised adolescent-based glories - or at least the potential of them - seemed unthinkable, unreasonable, impossible.
Worse, as a Jew who would practice Shabbat I was also expected to ‘keep’ Shabbat from Friday sundown to Saturday evening. Granted, Reform Judaism did not insist on the same prohibitions as Conservative and Orthodoxy streams but it did strongly suggest that there be some restraint of those distractions that define the rest of the week - for a whole twenty four hours, no less.
Really? I thought. Look, I was already going to Shabbat studies on Saturday morning. I tried to spend some
time in a natural setting afterwards, whether it be a stroll through the greenery of the Riverway (a.k.a. that ‘dirty water’) or a meditative stroll along the Harborwalk contemplating the ‘world of creation’. Wasn’t that something? Wasn’t that enough?
At this time I had just started going to temple for Shabbat regularly - but only with the escape clause in my purse that said I could stop any time I wanted. Because I have to confess it felt weird to be going into a house of worship on a Friday - every Friday - especially as the rest of Boston headed off to the movies at Lowe’s, another round at Ned Devine’s or packed the ‘D’ or Riverside cars (not coincidentally, the same Green Line train I took to get to Temple Israel) for the game over at Fenway.
Of course, I was still thinking in a post-Catholic mindset, counting time on the Christian clock, turning the page of the Gregorian calendar. In the United States and other Catholic theocracies the world always revolves around Sundays. The week starts on Monday, slogs through Wednesday, quickens on Thursday. Once the whistle blows on the assembly line Friday at 5:00 p.m. you’re allowed two nights and a day of debauch (whether that debauch is defined as drinking, dancing, drugging, sex or shopping, or some combination thereof) squeezed into about 32 hours...40 if you’re really adventurous.
Then comes Sunday, worship day. Dress in your fineries, cue the organ music and incense, sunlight through stained glass, priestly intonations and confessing of all your hard-earned sins. Stop by the bakery on the way home, pick up The Globe or The Times, cook the day-long meal, kick back on the couch to watch the game.
Not so much on the Jewish clock. If you are going to Shabbat then it’s a Friday night that brings you through the synagogue’s doors. And guess what? The world outside is not going to stop for you. Restaurants, bakeries, baseball teams do not care. The Red Sox are still going to play that double-header, your non-Jewish or non-observant Jewish friends are still going to par-tay. Shabbat is pretty non-negotiable. You can catch one of a half-dozen possible Catholic masses to fit into your Sunday schedule but there is only one sunset on a Friday.
That seemed huge to me and perhaps rightly so. As author Rabbi Danya Ruttenberg points out in her book "Surprised By God," religion is supposed to be larger than the practitioner of it. What’s the use of any belief system that allows us to be equal with our Higher Power, and therefore can barter with, mold and shape to our own needs and fears?
Religion washes over us like a wave from the sea, not a stream from a showerhead we can turn on and off. Spirituality contains this hidden non-negotiable element of surrender in this respect. It says if you want to have a relationship with your Higher Power then you are going to have to pay attention. It kindly, lovingly demands a laying down of our arms (if not our pride and iPods, too). It just won’t work if we’re constantly checking our cell phones, thinking about tomorrow’s staff meeting or downloading the latest Lady Gaga or Justin Timberlake.
* * *
So I thought, okay, I can do this. Judaism wants just twenty-four hours, a single day out of the week. Is it really that so much to ask? Beside, I was starting to really connect with my spirituality again through Shabbat services and Torah studies in a way I hadn’t in decades. This was beginning to have real meaning for me, an emotional and intellectual investment. Did I really want to do anything that would intrude on this ongoing meditation, this love affair I was fostering with the universe and its Creator?
Then September came around - a new season, a new semester. I had a course problem. The only way I could get the minimum credits for financial aid was to take a Saturday afternoon class. Okay, I thought, I can do this. It didn’t impede on my Friday night services or my Torah studies. This was workable.
Only it wasn’t. The class was a three-hour lecture from noon into the middle of the afternoon. I had just enough time to wrap up Torah Study and bail on oneg to go catch the Green Line T to make the Red Line south to JFK/UMass and then race to grab the shuttle to the campus. On the good days I managed to land at my desk with literally minutes to spare. Most times it was five or ten minutes late. The class - Ancient and Medieval Art History - was engrossing and challenging, demanding my full attention and fostering critical thought. Which of course is what any good course should do.
But it also picked me up of my Shabbat and unceremoniously dropped me in the middle of a classroom. My weekly love affair now ended hours earlier than I wanted it too. Soon I began to resent it. Then I remembered I had made this choice and therefore needed to deal with its consequences. It was only for a few months, right? Dammit I could do this.
And I did, too, although not without some serious pangs. I’m pretty sure no one was happier than me the following Saturday morning at oneg. I was back, I had returned with some new lessons learned, not only in how to tell the difference between Doric, Ionic, Corinthian and Etruscan columns but in gauging the true depth of my Shabbat experience and my need to stay connected to the universe, give thanks and continue to have that beautiful wave wash over me.
* * *
Here’s what I found out - the more I went to Shabbat, the more I wanted to go. The more time I spent on a Saturday wandering the Harborwalk or along The Riverway, the more I wanted to look at nature through Shabbat-steeped eyes. The more I entered that Shabbat space the less I wanted to leave it. I began politely turning down friends’ invites to coffee chats or the movies and especially any Saturday protests. Hey, this is Boston - weekend protests in the Common is almost a given. Yet I knew to participate in one would totally shatter whatever Shabbat meditation I found myself in. Hard to keep an appreciation of God and The Torah and the gift of this world while screaming some clever political slogans.
Nowadays I schedule my Fridays so that I have the afternoon-leading-into-evening off. I try to do all my cleaning, food shopping and cooking done beforehand. I like the idea of being presentable in house, dress, body and mind to greet and invite the Shabbat bride via "L’Cha Dodi"into my Life for the day.
Does this mean I won’t buy food if I need to, or clean a plate I have dirtied (or shovel snow, as this *is* Boston in winter right now)? No...but I am trying very hard to keep from doing any extraneous activity which would tear me out of my Shabbat state of mind, rip me away from that special guest. No, twenty-four hours doesn’t seem enough now, not nearly enough.
I’ll end with this thought. Recently someone else new to this process admitted she wasn’t going to be able to make it to Shabbat. "I just can’t get out of work to make it there on time."
I totally respect where she is at. There was a time I thought I could live without Shabbat services. And with no disrespect to her, but these days I feel I would have a very hard time living without it.
Not that I ever rallied for the home team from the stands and I can’t remember the last time I had drunk my way to a Saturday morning hangover. All the same I still felt very possessive of my Friday evenings. The thought of surrendering all those long held oft-praised adolescent-based glories - or at least the potential of them - seemed unthinkable, unreasonable, impossible.
Worse, as a Jew who would practice Shabbat I was also expected to ‘keep’ Shabbat from Friday sundown to Saturday evening. Granted, Reform Judaism did not insist on the same prohibitions as Conservative and Orthodoxy streams but it did strongly suggest that there be some restraint of those distractions that define the rest of the week - for a whole twenty four hours, no less.
Really? I thought. Look, I was already going to Shabbat studies on Saturday morning. I tried to spend some
time in a natural setting afterwards, whether it be a stroll through the greenery of the Riverway (a.k.a. that ‘dirty water’) or a meditative stroll along the Harborwalk contemplating the ‘world of creation’. Wasn’t that something? Wasn’t that enough?
At this time I had just started going to temple for Shabbat regularly - but only with the escape clause in my purse that said I could stop any time I wanted. Because I have to confess it felt weird to be going into a house of worship on a Friday - every Friday - especially as the rest of Boston headed off to the movies at Lowe’s, another round at Ned Devine’s or packed the ‘D’ or Riverside cars (not coincidentally, the same Green Line train I took to get to Temple Israel) for the game over at Fenway.
Of course, I was still thinking in a post-Catholic mindset, counting time on the Christian clock, turning the page of the Gregorian calendar. In the United States and other Catholic theocracies the world always revolves around Sundays. The week starts on Monday, slogs through Wednesday, quickens on Thursday. Once the whistle blows on the assembly line Friday at 5:00 p.m. you’re allowed two nights and a day of debauch (whether that debauch is defined as drinking, dancing, drugging, sex or shopping, or some combination thereof) squeezed into about 32 hours...40 if you’re really adventurous.
Then comes Sunday, worship day. Dress in your fineries, cue the organ music and incense, sunlight through stained glass, priestly intonations and confessing of all your hard-earned sins. Stop by the bakery on the way home, pick up The Globe or The Times, cook the day-long meal, kick back on the couch to watch the game.
Not so much on the Jewish clock. If you are going to Shabbat then it’s a Friday night that brings you through the synagogue’s doors. And guess what? The world outside is not going to stop for you. Restaurants, bakeries, baseball teams do not care. The Red Sox are still going to play that double-header, your non-Jewish or non-observant Jewish friends are still going to par-tay. Shabbat is pretty non-negotiable. You can catch one of a half-dozen possible Catholic masses to fit into your Sunday schedule but there is only one sunset on a Friday.
That seemed huge to me and perhaps rightly so. As author Rabbi Danya Ruttenberg points out in her book "Surprised By God," religion is supposed to be larger than the practitioner of it. What’s the use of any belief system that allows us to be equal with our Higher Power, and therefore can barter with, mold and shape to our own needs and fears?
Religion washes over us like a wave from the sea, not a stream from a showerhead we can turn on and off. Spirituality contains this hidden non-negotiable element of surrender in this respect. It says if you want to have a relationship with your Higher Power then you are going to have to pay attention. It kindly, lovingly demands a laying down of our arms (if not our pride and iPods, too). It just won’t work if we’re constantly checking our cell phones, thinking about tomorrow’s staff meeting or downloading the latest Lady Gaga or Justin Timberlake.
* * *
So I thought, okay, I can do this. Judaism wants just twenty-four hours, a single day out of the week. Is it really that so much to ask? Beside, I was starting to really connect with my spirituality again through Shabbat services and Torah studies in a way I hadn’t in decades. This was beginning to have real meaning for me, an emotional and intellectual investment. Did I really want to do anything that would intrude on this ongoing meditation, this love affair I was fostering with the universe and its Creator?
Then September came around - a new season, a new semester. I had a course problem. The only way I could get the minimum credits for financial aid was to take a Saturday afternoon class. Okay, I thought, I can do this. It didn’t impede on my Friday night services or my Torah studies. This was workable.
Only it wasn’t. The class was a three-hour lecture from noon into the middle of the afternoon. I had just enough time to wrap up Torah Study and bail on oneg to go catch the Green Line T to make the Red Line south to JFK/UMass and then race to grab the shuttle to the campus. On the good days I managed to land at my desk with literally minutes to spare. Most times it was five or ten minutes late. The class - Ancient and Medieval Art History - was engrossing and challenging, demanding my full attention and fostering critical thought. Which of course is what any good course should do.
But it also picked me up of my Shabbat and unceremoniously dropped me in the middle of a classroom. My weekly love affair now ended hours earlier than I wanted it too. Soon I began to resent it. Then I remembered I had made this choice and therefore needed to deal with its consequences. It was only for a few months, right? Dammit I could do this.
And I did, too, although not without some serious pangs. I’m pretty sure no one was happier than me the following Saturday morning at oneg. I was back, I had returned with some new lessons learned, not only in how to tell the difference between Doric, Ionic, Corinthian and Etruscan columns but in gauging the true depth of my Shabbat experience and my need to stay connected to the universe, give thanks and continue to have that beautiful wave wash over me.
* * *
Here’s what I found out - the more I went to Shabbat, the more I wanted to go. The more time I spent on a Saturday wandering the Harborwalk or along The Riverway, the more I wanted to look at nature through Shabbat-steeped eyes. The more I entered that Shabbat space the less I wanted to leave it. I began politely turning down friends’ invites to coffee chats or the movies and especially any Saturday protests. Hey, this is Boston - weekend protests in the Common is almost a given. Yet I knew to participate in one would totally shatter whatever Shabbat meditation I found myself in. Hard to keep an appreciation of God and The Torah and the gift of this world while screaming some clever political slogans.
Nowadays I schedule my Fridays so that I have the afternoon-leading-into-evening off. I try to do all my cleaning, food shopping and cooking done beforehand. I like the idea of being presentable in house, dress, body and mind to greet and invite the Shabbat bride via "L’Cha Dodi"into my Life for the day.
Does this mean I won’t buy food if I need to, or clean a plate I have dirtied (or shovel snow, as this *is* Boston in winter right now)? No...but I am trying very hard to keep from doing any extraneous activity which would tear me out of my Shabbat state of mind, rip me away from that special guest. No, twenty-four hours doesn’t seem enough now, not nearly enough.
I’ll end with this thought. Recently someone else new to this process admitted she wasn’t going to be able to make it to Shabbat. "I just can’t get out of work to make it there on time."
I totally respect where she is at. There was a time I thought I could live without Shabbat services. And with no disrespect to her, but these days I feel I would have a very hard time living without it.
Wednesday, January 12, 2011
Am I being *that* kind of convert?
Yesterday an acquaintance posted how she had found a bit of Jewish ancestry in her family history and changed her FB name to reflect that. I hadn’t even known she was looking and sent her a quick Mazel Tov reply and a small note to acknowledge her joy and mention my own conversion process. Her response was a measured (if not awkward) Er, um, thanks. I imagine her thinking, okay, we haven’t spoken in months, trade a couple of Facebook posts every now and then, and you felt the need to share this with me?
Of course, I’m reading a tone that I can’t possibly know via the Internet and am totally projecting my own insecurities as a convert onto her eight word reply - just as I was totally projecting my feelings onto her original announcement. This has given me reason to pause and wonder, uh-oh. Shit. Am I being ‘that’ kind of convert? You know, the one who just can’t stop talking about her process, who finds joy in the more commonly shared aspects of her new experience, who wakes up with ‘Miriam’s Song’ in her head, who wants to absorb so much she might as well write Sponge under "Occupation" on her tax return, go from Zero to Psalm 150 in 3.5 seconds. Not fanatical or even obsessive, but rather a state-of-being just shy of ‘Ecstatic’.
I think about the amount of attention I give my Judaism. A few minutes devoted to prayer in the morning, blessings for the new day, maybe some more to my self-driven Hebrew lessons (that is, if I’m not feeling particularly intimidated by Bet, Pei versus Fei and all the sofit forms).During the day I try to incorporate A Jewish way of thinking informed by my evolving awareness of Jewish values. The latest ishes of Tablet Magazine, Jewish Journal and New Voices get dropped off in my email. If I have the time I’ll give them scan and post the more relevant pieces. In the afternoon I say the Amidah (again, if I remember). I try to always give blessings at meals but yeah, often I don’t realize until halfway through the salad.
On Sundays I realize the majority of my neighbors are going to their house of worship; for them the week won’t begin until tomorrow. Shavua Tov! Sometime around Wednesday I’m thinking about Shabbat on Friday, Torah Study on Saturday morning.
Admittedly it’s more than this. I feel like my Jewish awareness is slowly rising like the new dawn over the horizon, its light shining upon things I would never have contemplated so deeply before. Like Israel and the Middle East or looking at the world through the lens of tzedakah and tikkun olam. Like contemplating the word ‘chosen’ from a dozen different perspectives. Like feeling my heart weep when I visited the New England Holocaust Memorial and anger over how the country of my birth spurned European Jewish refugees, sending them back to their likely deaths, during World War 2. Like how uneasy and annoyed I feel when someone will describe a blizzard as a ‘snow-ocaust’.
All of which leads me to wonder if my simchat is too much simchat, and if so, by whose standards am I making that judgment? By my FB acquaintances? By my real-life friends, some who seem to look a tad uncomfortable when I remind them I can’t go to their Friday night protest or party? By my Catholic family’s? Or am I simply measuring this by the yardstick of my own insecurities?
A friend back in New York once gave me these words of advice: something becomes a problem when it adversely affects your life. I sometimes worry if said "something" has become so huge as to have taken over my life, would I even know it? Or would I be oblivious until I see (or imagine I see) the cringing wince in someone else’s face?
I like that I’m excited about my spirituality. It’s been years (if not decades) since I found such joy in relating to the universe. I am attracted to Judaism in its many forms for many reasons. It’s new. It’s bold. It’s encouraging and challenging. It’s adventurous. It’s Life-affirming, spirit-enhancing and soul-supportive. It’s joyful and dance-able. What better an evolution/ revolution in my life?
Will I always feel this way about it? I don’t know - that concern I will let go and Let G-d. Let me cross that bridge when I come to it, and when I do may I face it with grace, serenity, emotional knowledge and love.
And, of course, as a Jew.
Of course, I’m reading a tone that I can’t possibly know via the Internet and am totally projecting my own insecurities as a convert onto her eight word reply - just as I was totally projecting my feelings onto her original announcement. This has given me reason to pause and wonder, uh-oh. Shit. Am I being ‘that’ kind of convert? You know, the one who just can’t stop talking about her process, who finds joy in the more commonly shared aspects of her new experience, who wakes up with ‘Miriam’s Song’ in her head, who wants to absorb so much she might as well write Sponge under "Occupation" on her tax return, go from Zero to Psalm 150 in 3.5 seconds. Not fanatical or even obsessive, but rather a state-of-being just shy of ‘Ecstatic’.
I think about the amount of attention I give my Judaism. A few minutes devoted to prayer in the morning, blessings for the new day, maybe some more to my self-driven Hebrew lessons (that is, if I’m not feeling particularly intimidated by Bet, Pei versus Fei and all the sofit forms).During the day I try to incorporate A Jewish way of thinking informed by my evolving awareness of Jewish values. The latest ishes of Tablet Magazine, Jewish Journal and New Voices get dropped off in my email. If I have the time I’ll give them scan and post the more relevant pieces. In the afternoon I say the Amidah (again, if I remember). I try to always give blessings at meals but yeah, often I don’t realize until halfway through the salad.
On Sundays I realize the majority of my neighbors are going to their house of worship; for them the week won’t begin until tomorrow. Shavua Tov! Sometime around Wednesday I’m thinking about Shabbat on Friday, Torah Study on Saturday morning.
Admittedly it’s more than this. I feel like my Jewish awareness is slowly rising like the new dawn over the horizon, its light shining upon things I would never have contemplated so deeply before. Like Israel and the Middle East or looking at the world through the lens of tzedakah and tikkun olam. Like contemplating the word ‘chosen’ from a dozen different perspectives. Like feeling my heart weep when I visited the New England Holocaust Memorial and anger over how the country of my birth spurned European Jewish refugees, sending them back to their likely deaths, during World War 2. Like how uneasy and annoyed I feel when someone will describe a blizzard as a ‘snow-ocaust’.
All of which leads me to wonder if my simchat is too much simchat, and if so, by whose standards am I making that judgment? By my FB acquaintances? By my real-life friends, some who seem to look a tad uncomfortable when I remind them I can’t go to their Friday night protest or party? By my Catholic family’s? Or am I simply measuring this by the yardstick of my own insecurities?
A friend back in New York once gave me these words of advice: something becomes a problem when it adversely affects your life. I sometimes worry if said "something" has become so huge as to have taken over my life, would I even know it? Or would I be oblivious until I see (or imagine I see) the cringing wince in someone else’s face?
I like that I’m excited about my spirituality. It’s been years (if not decades) since I found such joy in relating to the universe. I am attracted to Judaism in its many forms for many reasons. It’s new. It’s bold. It’s encouraging and challenging. It’s adventurous. It’s Life-affirming, spirit-enhancing and soul-supportive. It’s joyful and dance-able. What better an evolution/ revolution in my life?
Will I always feel this way about it? I don’t know - that concern I will let go and Let G-d. Let me cross that bridge when I come to it, and when I do may I face it with grace, serenity, emotional knowledge and love.
And, of course, as a Jew.
Saturday, December 25, 2010
Notes from a Becoming-Jew on Christmas
18 tevet
Last entry from this holiday season, 2010/5771, I promise.
So it’s just after ten o’clock on Christmas night. I am shutting off the television after four straight Encore movies and a luxurious Chinese dinner I am sure will go straight to my waistline and thighs. General Tso’s, in case you were wondering, and yes, it was worth every bite.
I had the opportunity to go to the movies this evening and then go back to the hostess’s house to order in some Chinese and share some laughter, pour some drinks. There would have been about twelve other strangers there plus two friends. It was a very lovely invitation, sight unseen, from a very lovely person, although I admit I was uncomfortable with that large a crowd of strangers. One of the friends who would be there said, well, they will only be strangers until you get to know them. Fair enough, E.
Honestly though, tonight I didn’t want to be around people tonight for whom this was all "old hat", especially if said hat was red and white and topped with a white fuzzy ball. I didn’t want to be amongst people who had made their peace with this whole holiday season, especially since, this being my first Hanukkah, I hadn’t yet.
Does that sound strange to you? At first it did to me. I mean, why not spend time sharing popcorn, celluloid and dim sum with friendly faces? Why not toss back a shot or two, maybe even three? Why spend an evening in with overpriced take-out and a bad 1980's movie marathon? For God’s sake, they’re about to show "The Hand That Rocks The Cradle"...can anything be worse than that?
For me there is.
For me, what could be worse is pretending I’m at the same level of serenity with this day and night as they are. I’m not, I haven’t been and I need to respect that struggle.
What could be worse is forcing a smile when I don’t want to smile, joking when the last thing I feel is humor,
and end up resenting myself. I need to respect that, too. Although the intensity of these feelings have fallen off greatly in the last 24 hours, I still feel culturally isolated and put-upon.
And here’s the thing I needed. I needed to feel those emotions, let them come up and finally wash over me. I needed to acknowledge them and see they wouldn’t drown me. Judaism teaches that, that emotions are only bad when we repress them, mask them, do everything we can not to feel them. Well, for me the only way to shed hurts and confusions and angers is to let them surface straight and sober, own up to them - and then kiss them goodbye.
I think that’s what I’ve been doing this evening. I’m not sure I could have done that in the midst of a social scene, or at the end of a string of hastily tossed-back drinks. If the only way out is through, then I needed to find that Exit tonight alone.
To quote, I’m doing the best I can with what I know - and I’ll do better when I know more. I have no doubt I’ll handle next year’s December/tevet a little more socially than this year, and perhaps the year after that even more.
In the meantime, one year, one holiday season, one holy day at a time.
Shalom.
Last entry from this holiday season, 2010/5771, I promise.
So it’s just after ten o’clock on Christmas night. I am shutting off the television after four straight Encore movies and a luxurious Chinese dinner I am sure will go straight to my waistline and thighs. General Tso’s, in case you were wondering, and yes, it was worth every bite.
I had the opportunity to go to the movies this evening and then go back to the hostess’s house to order in some Chinese and share some laughter, pour some drinks. There would have been about twelve other strangers there plus two friends. It was a very lovely invitation, sight unseen, from a very lovely person, although I admit I was uncomfortable with that large a crowd of strangers. One of the friends who would be there said, well, they will only be strangers until you get to know them. Fair enough, E.
Honestly though, tonight I didn’t want to be around people tonight for whom this was all "old hat", especially if said hat was red and white and topped with a white fuzzy ball. I didn’t want to be amongst people who had made their peace with this whole holiday season, especially since, this being my first Hanukkah, I hadn’t yet.
Does that sound strange to you? At first it did to me. I mean, why not spend time sharing popcorn, celluloid and dim sum with friendly faces? Why not toss back a shot or two, maybe even three? Why spend an evening in with overpriced take-out and a bad 1980's movie marathon? For God’s sake, they’re about to show "The Hand That Rocks The Cradle"...can anything be worse than that?
For me there is.
For me, what could be worse is pretending I’m at the same level of serenity with this day and night as they are. I’m not, I haven’t been and I need to respect that struggle.
What could be worse is forcing a smile when I don’t want to smile, joking when the last thing I feel is humor,
and end up resenting myself. I need to respect that, too. Although the intensity of these feelings have fallen off greatly in the last 24 hours, I still feel culturally isolated and put-upon.
And here’s the thing I needed. I needed to feel those emotions, let them come up and finally wash over me. I needed to acknowledge them and see they wouldn’t drown me. Judaism teaches that, that emotions are only bad when we repress them, mask them, do everything we can not to feel them. Well, for me the only way to shed hurts and confusions and angers is to let them surface straight and sober, own up to them - and then kiss them goodbye.
I think that’s what I’ve been doing this evening. I’m not sure I could have done that in the midst of a social scene, or at the end of a string of hastily tossed-back drinks. If the only way out is through, then I needed to find that Exit tonight alone.
To quote, I’m doing the best I can with what I know - and I’ll do better when I know more. I have no doubt I’ll handle next year’s December/tevet a little more socially than this year, and perhaps the year after that even more.
In the meantime, one year, one holiday season, one holy day at a time.
Shalom.
Sunday, December 19, 2010
Catching up, Part 1: May - June 2010
(Preface: Although I just started this online journal of my Jewish journeys, I have been making entries since mid-Spring on my laptop. This is when I first talked to Rabbi Zecher of Temple Israel, Boston, who instead of letting me convert that day as I wanted - and thank you for that! - suggested amongst other things that I start a diary. So I thought I would drop in those entries here just to catch up to the present day. For the most part these will be left untouched. Also the dates are approximately accurate.
I have to admit with some chagrin and love, a smile touches my lip as I reread these personal postings. I recognize the voice, the person and the incidences. These are quite a testimony of just where I was in my life. Some of my questions have found answers, which have led to more questions. Some remain elusive.Fair warning: not all of this is pretty and speaks to some very emotional life incidences that I make no apologies for. )
(May, 2010)
"Shabbot Shalom!
I went to my first Shabbat service and Torah Study today and thought it an excellent spiritual experience. Although I understood not a word of the service (spoken in Hebrew? Yiddish?) I did gleam their feeling of giving thanks to their Higher Power, which always leaves me uplifted.
I also loved their talk/study afterwards, how they brought their passage home. It was some verses about spies Moses had sent to go scout out the Promise Land - historically, um, er ok, morally am not sure, but the rabbi brought it all back the personal.
I love how Jews can laugh at themselves and discuss. They really like to discuss. Not necessarily debate - they are not trying to be right - but they like to question, to examine, to turn things inside out, to try to find its truth.
I like that Judaism allows this, that it fosters questioning and questions and can even readily admit it does not know the final answer (or even if one exists.)
I like that it brings its lesson back to the personal that it discusses human psychology. That it does not claim a victim mentality, nor harnesses everyone with the yolk of original sin. No, their lessons left me today feeling good and empowered, something I never experienced w/Catholicism
Christianity always left me feeling less-than, especially as a pansexual person of transsexual experience. I have always felt I have been saddled with original sin and must spend the rest of my existence trying to scrub my soul clean enough for a Father figure who will only let me know if I’ve done a good enough job when I’m dead. Christianity sees my transsexuality as a handicap, a horror, something to be shunned, hidden away, pitied. It hates diversity, glorifies group-think and keeps a militaristic tone.
At this moment I see Judaism as the antithesis of that. I see it as a discourse amongst individuals, a way to bridge the gap between the religious and the secular, the human and the divine. It does not glorify on the lottery-type miracles but instead focuses on the daily miracles of human interaction. It brings the divine down to street level. It is earthy, somehow. It doesn’t concern itself so much with the dogma of fundamentalism and patriarchal mythos but with everyday interactions, emotions, the sensuous Life.
This strikes me as very psychological-based. For instance, yesterday’s teaching ended with a call not to shrink one’s self in the face of adversity, no matter the size of the giants before you, not to diminish one’s own self, but to stand tall. I can’t think of ANY Catholic sermon that ever carried that message. Catholicism seems to preach the opposite - stay bent under the crushing weight of invisible sin and be thankful for the opportunity to be indentured to a Master God. This is like an abused child being told to be grateful for having an abusive father. This is a poor starving person being told to by the rich at the dinner table to be thankful for her or his every crumb. Really? Is it not better to invite to a place at the table (without the pressure to make them conform to one’s own religion?) Is it not better to teach them how to cook? Help them get educated to get a job so they can live on their own? .
Jews know about slavery - but they also know about freedom. Freedom from Masters. Freedom from group-think. Freedom from ignorance. Freedom from the resignation of Fate. Freedom from the impossible weight of constant sin. Freedom from the angry demanding Father Figure who judges without reason from a Zeus like throne somewhere in his Olympus-like Heaven.
As for the local Socialist movement -
um, I’m starting to have a big problem with their anti-Israel focus and fervor. Not that I agree with what the IDF did but why the sole focus on Israel and not Hamas? Both sides have killed, why choose only one to focus on? Are they a socialist platform or a palestinian platform? By the way, exactly how does Socialism see itself fitting into this argument? It’s weird because I don’t see them taking on other Muslim protests around the world. I don’t see them fighting for Muslim rights in France. I never saw them standing up for Muslims post 9/11. I don’t see them fighting for the rights of Muslim women in Turkey, Iraq, Iran...yet this vehement focus on Israel.
I will grant you I do not know the history of the conflict well enough and do not know Zionism well enough to offer up an informed opinion yet. Some of the stuff I am seeing is definitely making me feel uncomfortable. But then, so is Hamas. And so are the socialists’ one-sided protests. Did they protest during the bombings or cheer them on? Must find out. Disturbing, no matter what.
Israel: Questions to be answered. Is this only a Jewish state, a Zionist’s wet dream? What is Zionism? Is there any justification for it? (In other words, do Jews have a claim to Israel the way Native Americans have a claim to territories in The United States? Are they an indigenous people?) How was Israel granted to them? By whom? What considerations, if any, were given to those living there on the land when Israel was formed? And by whom? Who fought who in all the wars that followed?
Given Christianity’s centuries’ worth of Crusades (which some still glorify) can they be an objective critic to Judaism’s claim on the land?
What is Life like in Israel? Is it really an apartheid state? I would find it incredibly hard to believe that writers such as Erica Jong and David Mamet would support any system that would encourage that sort of racial divide. Is Israel the new South Africa? I have been told there is a divide amongst its residents that borders on civil war regarding Gaza. I don’t think white South Africans had that view. Inside of Israel Jews and Arabs seem to be living in accord - not necessarily peace but in accord. Is that really the case? If so, what does that say? If not, what does that say?
And finally, Gaza. If the citizens voted in a terrorist organization, what does that say? Some say it was in reaction to Israel, yet look how hamas treats them. Didn’t the Germans vote in the Nazis prior to World War II? Wasn’t that in part in reaction to how the rest of the world treated them? And would the answer justify Israel’s violence-making? Or hamas’s missiles? At what point do people simply say stop? At what point do people simply say, Killing is Wrong, Justified Violence is still Violence?
Too many questions to seek all the answers today. The only thing I can come away with is knowing that I have much further to go before I come down on one side or the other - if any at all.
Shalom....."
June 13th, 2010
"Something else I find I really like about Judaism. It does not try to convert the world; it does not see prosthelytizing as its mission. Attraction over promotion. Why? As explained on wikipedia:
"Righteousness, according to Jewish belief, was not restricted to those who accepted the Jewish religion. And the righteous among the nations that carried into practice the seven fundamental laws of the covenant with/wiki/Noah Noah and his descendants were declared to be participants in the felicity of the hereafter. This interpretation of the status of non-Jews made the development of a missionary attitude unnecessary.The dogma and beliefs of Judaism, although revealed by God in Judaism, consist of universal truths applicable to all mankind
" So in other words, there are some basics to being morally/ethically good. If you do that in your ordinary
Life, than it is the equivalent of acting Jewish....
Also, regarding individualism in the greater Reform Judaism Movement:
"...personal autonomy still has precedence over these platforms; lay people need not accept all, or even any, of the beliefs stated in these platforms. ...if anyone were to attempt to answer these two questions authoritatively for all Reform Jews, that person's answers would have to be false. Why? Because one of the guiding principles of Reform Judaism is the autonomy of the individual. A Reform Jew has the right to decide whether to subscribe to this particular belief or to that particular practice." Reform Judaism affirms "the fundamental principle of Liberalism: that the individual will approach this body of mitzvot and minhagim in the spirit of freedom and choice. Traditionally Israel started with harut, the commandment engraved upon the Tablets, which then became freedom. The Reform Jew starts with herut, the freedom to decide what will be harut - engraved upon the personal Tablets of his life." [Bernard Martin, Ed., Contemporary Reform Jewish Thought, Quadrangle Books 1968.]"
I have to admit with some chagrin and love, a smile touches my lip as I reread these personal postings. I recognize the voice, the person and the incidences. These are quite a testimony of just where I was in my life. Some of my questions have found answers, which have led to more questions. Some remain elusive.Fair warning: not all of this is pretty and speaks to some very emotional life incidences that I make no apologies for. )
(May, 2010)
"Shabbot Shalom!
I went to my first Shabbat service and Torah Study today and thought it an excellent spiritual experience. Although I understood not a word of the service (spoken in Hebrew? Yiddish?) I did gleam their feeling of giving thanks to their Higher Power, which always leaves me uplifted.
I also loved their talk/study afterwards, how they brought their passage home. It was some verses about spies Moses had sent to go scout out the Promise Land - historically, um, er ok, morally am not sure, but the rabbi brought it all back the personal.
I love how Jews can laugh at themselves and discuss. They really like to discuss. Not necessarily debate - they are not trying to be right - but they like to question, to examine, to turn things inside out, to try to find its truth.
I like that Judaism allows this, that it fosters questioning and questions and can even readily admit it does not know the final answer (or even if one exists.)
I like that it brings its lesson back to the personal that it discusses human psychology. That it does not claim a victim mentality, nor harnesses everyone with the yolk of original sin. No, their lessons left me today feeling good and empowered, something I never experienced w/Catholicism
Christianity always left me feeling less-than, especially as a pansexual person of transsexual experience. I have always felt I have been saddled with original sin and must spend the rest of my existence trying to scrub my soul clean enough for a Father figure who will only let me know if I’ve done a good enough job when I’m dead. Christianity sees my transsexuality as a handicap, a horror, something to be shunned, hidden away, pitied. It hates diversity, glorifies group-think and keeps a militaristic tone.
At this moment I see Judaism as the antithesis of that. I see it as a discourse amongst individuals, a way to bridge the gap between the religious and the secular, the human and the divine. It does not glorify on the lottery-type miracles but instead focuses on the daily miracles of human interaction. It brings the divine down to street level. It is earthy, somehow. It doesn’t concern itself so much with the dogma of fundamentalism and patriarchal mythos but with everyday interactions, emotions, the sensuous Life.
This strikes me as very psychological-based. For instance, yesterday’s teaching ended with a call not to shrink one’s self in the face of adversity, no matter the size of the giants before you, not to diminish one’s own self, but to stand tall. I can’t think of ANY Catholic sermon that ever carried that message. Catholicism seems to preach the opposite - stay bent under the crushing weight of invisible sin and be thankful for the opportunity to be indentured to a Master God. This is like an abused child being told to be grateful for having an abusive father. This is a poor starving person being told to by the rich at the dinner table to be thankful for her or his every crumb. Really? Is it not better to invite to a place at the table (without the pressure to make them conform to one’s own religion?) Is it not better to teach them how to cook? Help them get educated to get a job so they can live on their own? .
Jews know about slavery - but they also know about freedom. Freedom from Masters. Freedom from group-think. Freedom from ignorance. Freedom from the resignation of Fate. Freedom from the impossible weight of constant sin. Freedom from the angry demanding Father Figure who judges without reason from a Zeus like throne somewhere in his Olympus-like Heaven.
As for the local Socialist movement -
um, I’m starting to have a big problem with their anti-Israel focus and fervor. Not that I agree with what the IDF did but why the sole focus on Israel and not Hamas? Both sides have killed, why choose only one to focus on? Are they a socialist platform or a palestinian platform? By the way, exactly how does Socialism see itself fitting into this argument? It’s weird because I don’t see them taking on other Muslim protests around the world. I don’t see them fighting for Muslim rights in France. I never saw them standing up for Muslims post 9/11. I don’t see them fighting for the rights of Muslim women in Turkey, Iraq, Iran...yet this vehement focus on Israel.
I will grant you I do not know the history of the conflict well enough and do not know Zionism well enough to offer up an informed opinion yet. Some of the stuff I am seeing is definitely making me feel uncomfortable. But then, so is Hamas. And so are the socialists’ one-sided protests. Did they protest during the bombings or cheer them on? Must find out. Disturbing, no matter what.
Israel: Questions to be answered. Is this only a Jewish state, a Zionist’s wet dream? What is Zionism? Is there any justification for it? (In other words, do Jews have a claim to Israel the way Native Americans have a claim to territories in The United States? Are they an indigenous people?) How was Israel granted to them? By whom? What considerations, if any, were given to those living there on the land when Israel was formed? And by whom? Who fought who in all the wars that followed?
Given Christianity’s centuries’ worth of Crusades (which some still glorify) can they be an objective critic to Judaism’s claim on the land?
What is Life like in Israel? Is it really an apartheid state? I would find it incredibly hard to believe that writers such as Erica Jong and David Mamet would support any system that would encourage that sort of racial divide. Is Israel the new South Africa? I have been told there is a divide amongst its residents that borders on civil war regarding Gaza. I don’t think white South Africans had that view. Inside of Israel Jews and Arabs seem to be living in accord - not necessarily peace but in accord. Is that really the case? If so, what does that say? If not, what does that say?
And finally, Gaza. If the citizens voted in a terrorist organization, what does that say? Some say it was in reaction to Israel, yet look how hamas treats them. Didn’t the Germans vote in the Nazis prior to World War II? Wasn’t that in part in reaction to how the rest of the world treated them? And would the answer justify Israel’s violence-making? Or hamas’s missiles? At what point do people simply say stop? At what point do people simply say, Killing is Wrong, Justified Violence is still Violence?
Too many questions to seek all the answers today. The only thing I can come away with is knowing that I have much further to go before I come down on one side or the other - if any at all.
Shalom....."
June 13th, 2010
"Something else I find I really like about Judaism. It does not try to convert the world; it does not see prosthelytizing as its mission. Attraction over promotion. Why? As explained on wikipedia:
"Righteousness, according to Jewish belief, was not restricted to those who accepted the Jewish religion. And the righteous among the nations that carried into practice the seven fundamental laws of the covenant with/wiki/Noah Noah and his descendants were declared to be participants in the felicity of the hereafter. This interpretation of the status of non-Jews made the development of a missionary attitude unnecessary.The dogma and beliefs of Judaism, although revealed by God in Judaism, consist of universal truths applicable to all mankind
" So in other words, there are some basics to being morally/ethically good. If you do that in your ordinary
Life, than it is the equivalent of acting Jewish....
Also, regarding individualism in the greater Reform Judaism Movement:
"...personal autonomy still has precedence over these platforms; lay people need not accept all, or even any, of the beliefs stated in these platforms. ...if anyone were to attempt to answer these two questions authoritatively for all Reform Jews, that person's answers would have to be false. Why? Because one of the guiding principles of Reform Judaism is the autonomy of the individual. A Reform Jew has the right to decide whether to subscribe to this particular belief or to that particular practice." Reform Judaism affirms "the fundamental principle of Liberalism: that the individual will approach this body of mitzvot and minhagim in the spirit of freedom and choice. Traditionally Israel started with harut, the commandment engraved upon the Tablets, which then became freedom. The Reform Jew starts with herut, the freedom to decide what will be harut - engraved upon the personal Tablets of his life." [Bernard Martin, Ed., Contemporary Reform Jewish Thought, Quadrangle Books 1968.]"
Saturday, December 18, 2010
"The Dance of My Jewish Muses" - Poems
(I am, amongst other things, a writer, poet and spoken word artist. It was inevitable then that I would find my muses along my Judaic journey. What a surprise - each carry a tamborine in one hand and are holding out the other for me to join them in their dance.)
(I will also be posting them in chronological order, as they also chronicle a Jewish awakening that's been a rather revelatory, empowering and ultimately sweet chapter in my Life)
(Spring, 2010)
Don’t Wait
Don't wait on lottery tickets. Make your miracles happen.
Don't wait on heaven. Make that paradise here.
Don't wait on family to come around. Find your tribe.
Don't wait on the past to catch up. Move into the future.
Don't wait on apologies to forgive. Let go and let love.
Don't wait on creeds to manifest. Do deeds now.
Don't wait on change.
Change.
(copyright 2010, Stephanie Bonvissuto)
(Summer 2010)
Here are your nails back.
I’m climbing down off this rotting old cross.
It can’t hold my flesh anymore.
And besides
I’m tired of just hanging around.
Here are your wafers and wine.
Had my fill of this never-ending last supper.
Stuffed with cannibalstic salvation;
I leave hungry
for manna more filling.
Please take away your original sin.
I am done carrying the burdens
of a couple naked innocent kids
you saw fit to
damn all of Humankind by.
And yes, I’m returning your paradise..
Don’t want entry to any gated community
where homogeny rules and eternity
is define as a looping
reruns of Father Knows Best.
(Copyright, 2010 - Stephanie Bonvissuto)
the last bullet fired
My heart aching, I tried to follow the trajectory of
the last bullet fired
which had felled the oxymoronic armed peace protester who had been
busy beating back the armed IDF soldier who said he was just
trying to stop the next missile from landing in the middle of a classroom,
launched from the outskirts of a desperate border town
flattened by steam-rolling tanks hoping to outflank
the desert terrorists
(or were they revolutionaries?)
who had blown their own bodies up
along with others on loaded buses
in the holy frustration of those inside an occupation
overseen by those set upon on the day of their birth
by neighbors on the other side of barbed wire strung up by strangers who,
after being bombed themselves by the desert terrorists
(or were they revolutionaries?)
eager to re-establish a sanctuary from
the red-hot ovens and gas-laden showers
and a world’s cold-bloodied indifference,
evacuated to their calmer distant shores,
negating the political promises made to
the indigenous people who claimed they were there before
those other indigenous tribes...
wait, hold on.
which ‘others’ again?
Oh, you know...those others...
Always another ‘other’ to
denigrate, depreciate,
detonate and exterminate
until sweet Shaddai’s Promised Land
and the Prophet Mohammed’s (PBUH) sands
become a carpet of bodies and limbs
of unknown nationality.
(copyright, 2010 - Stephanie Bonvissuto)
Rosh Hashanah 5771
I dip my days through the plate
of sweet thankfulness,
tasting gratitude on my tongue.
(copyright, 2010, Stephanie Bonvissuto)
(Fall, 2010)
The Law of Return
Somewhere under the inconstant moon,
wrapped in a tallit of stars,
its fringes dancing in warm winds,
this then
is what the desert road tells me -
That it does not matter how far I go
along this hidden road
nor
just where the night may take me
guiding with invisible hand,
And
it will not matter what bed I should awake in
nor
the loving stranger, cloaked in perfumes,
I shall roll over to find
And
I should not be concerned
about all those new tastes
that
will tango across my tongue
or
the strange rhythms my heart
will want to beat along with.
All that matters,
all that has ever mattered,
is that
with every new direction
and every new beat
and every lingering kiss
I get
one step closer
to my tribe
and that I keep on
coming home.
(copyright, 2010 Stephanie Bonvissuto)
(I will also be posting them in chronological order, as they also chronicle a Jewish awakening that's been a rather revelatory, empowering and ultimately sweet chapter in my Life)
(Spring, 2010)
Don’t Wait
Don't wait on lottery tickets. Make your miracles happen.
Don't wait on heaven. Make that paradise here.
Don't wait on family to come around. Find your tribe.
Don't wait on the past to catch up. Move into the future.
Don't wait on apologies to forgive. Let go and let love.
Don't wait on creeds to manifest. Do deeds now.
Don't wait on change.
Change.
(copyright 2010, Stephanie Bonvissuto)
(Summer 2010)
Here are your nails back.
I’m climbing down off this rotting old cross.
It can’t hold my flesh anymore.
And besides
I’m tired of just hanging around.
Here are your wafers and wine.
Had my fill of this never-ending last supper.
Stuffed with cannibalstic salvation;
I leave hungry
for manna more filling.
Please take away your original sin.
I am done carrying the burdens
of a couple naked innocent kids
you saw fit to
damn all of Humankind by.
And yes, I’m returning your paradise..
Don’t want entry to any gated community
where homogeny rules and eternity
is define as a looping
reruns of Father Knows Best.
(Copyright, 2010 - Stephanie Bonvissuto)
the last bullet fired
My heart aching, I tried to follow the trajectory of
the last bullet fired
which had felled the oxymoronic armed peace protester who had been
busy beating back the armed IDF soldier who said he was just
trying to stop the next missile from landing in the middle of a classroom,
launched from the outskirts of a desperate border town
flattened by steam-rolling tanks hoping to outflank
the desert terrorists
(or were they revolutionaries?)
who had blown their own bodies up
along with others on loaded buses
in the holy frustration of those inside an occupation
overseen by those set upon on the day of their birth
by neighbors on the other side of barbed wire strung up by strangers who,
after being bombed themselves by the desert terrorists
(or were they revolutionaries?)
eager to re-establish a sanctuary from
the red-hot ovens and gas-laden showers
and a world’s cold-bloodied indifference,
evacuated to their calmer distant shores,
negating the political promises made to
the indigenous people who claimed they were there before
those other indigenous tribes...
wait, hold on.
which ‘others’ again?
Oh, you know...those others...
Always another ‘other’ to
denigrate, depreciate,
detonate and exterminate
until sweet Shaddai’s Promised Land
and the Prophet Mohammed’s (PBUH) sands
become a carpet of bodies and limbs
of unknown nationality.
(copyright, 2010 - Stephanie Bonvissuto)
Rosh Hashanah 5771
I dip my days through the plate
of sweet thankfulness,
tasting gratitude on my tongue.
(copyright, 2010, Stephanie Bonvissuto)
(Fall, 2010)
The Law of Return
Somewhere under the inconstant moon,
wrapped in a tallit of stars,
its fringes dancing in warm winds,
this then
is what the desert road tells me -
That it does not matter how far I go
along this hidden road
nor
just where the night may take me
guiding with invisible hand,
And
it will not matter what bed I should awake in
nor
the loving stranger, cloaked in perfumes,
I shall roll over to find
And
I should not be concerned
about all those new tastes
that
will tango across my tongue
or
the strange rhythms my heart
will want to beat along with.
All that matters,
all that has ever mattered,
is that
with every new direction
and every new beat
and every lingering kiss
I get
one step closer
to my tribe
and that I keep on
coming home.
(copyright, 2010 Stephanie Bonvissuto)
Sunday, December 12, 2010
Q & A
12, Tivet, 5771:
Why an online journal?
When I first told my rabbi that I intended to convert she suggested I keep a journal. I began with all good intent and energy, but soon a new semester and new job sapped most of both. Now that I have started an Introduction to Judaism course the same suggestion was made to the class (not coincidentally, by the same rabbi.) I thought, GPA and paycheck be damned, it was time to make a committment to myself along this Jewish journey of mine. I could let it pass by unobserved, focusing merely on my mikveh, or I could appreciate everything I was seeing/tasting/smelling/thinking along the way.
Why write online? To open myself up to discussions, an exhcange - and no doubt a crash at times - of thoughts. How else does anything in this universe grow except through friction? (Yeah, I know - "That's what she said.")
Why "Sarah, Ruth & I..."?
Some of my fave Jewish role models - Sarah, the first female Jewish convert, and how hard must that have been? You don't take many larger leaps of faith than being the first at anything (especially when it6 deals with spirituality.) And Ruth so passionately believed in her conversion that it became its own Book in the Jewish canon.
What stream of Judaism are you following?
Reform Judaism. Have really connected with its message of social justice being intertwined with spirituality. (Something I wish my Paganism had been more in tune with.) Love its ongoing discussion regarding religion (so unlike Christianity, which I was dragged up on.) Also love that it accepts me as I am - not as "handicapped", a "mistake" or just freakish, as some other religions have. (In case I hadn't mentioned it, I identify as a queer woman of transsexual experience).
Where do you go to Temple?Temple Israel, Boston - a welcoming community that greeted me so warmly from my very first Shabbat. (I currently go there for my Shabbat, Torah Study, Introduction to Judaism Class and Riverway Project Shabbats). The clergy and congregation have gone out of their way to remind me that the gates here are always open. They are resoundingly and unapologetically Pro-Israel (although they do feel free to question and act upon the country's less than liberal human rights record), left of center, and embrace the LGBT community (as in couples, families and singles.).http://www.tisrael.org/ Riverway Project Ohel Tzedek: Tent of Justice http://www.tisrael.org/gblt.asp
General Misc.:
Reading:
Just finished "Surprised by God" by Rabbi Danya Ruttenberg and couldn't recommend it more. Although she is a culture Jew and needed no formal conversion, I found many similarities between her journey and my own. In fact, my copy of the book is embarassingly annotated.Surprised by God: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love Religion
For my class I am reading "Living a Jewish Life," a very accessible book by Anita Damant, and "Settings of Silver" by Stephen Wylen.
Other books read and recommended:
"The Sabbath" - by Abraham Joshua Heschel The Sabbath
"Seasons of Our Joy" - Arthur Waskow Seasons of Our Joy
"Choosing a Jewish Life" also byAnita Damant
"On Both Sides of The Fence"by Vladka Meed
"Maus: A Survivor's Tale" Volumes 1 & 2 by Art SpiegelmanMaus I & II
"Chronicles of The Holocaust"
Music:
As I post this I am listening to cuts from The Josjh Nelson Project. I had the absolute joy of listening to them live at Temple Israel, Boston's Soul Food/Riverway Project. http://joshnelsonproject.com/
Fave Local Jewish Organizations/Store
Keshet - Keshet ("Rainbow")
Kolbo - Kolbo
Why an online journal?
When I first told my rabbi that I intended to convert she suggested I keep a journal. I began with all good intent and energy, but soon a new semester and new job sapped most of both. Now that I have started an Introduction to Judaism course the same suggestion was made to the class (not coincidentally, by the same rabbi.) I thought, GPA and paycheck be damned, it was time to make a committment to myself along this Jewish journey of mine. I could let it pass by unobserved, focusing merely on my mikveh, or I could appreciate everything I was seeing/tasting/smelling/thinking along the way.
Why write online? To open myself up to discussions, an exhcange - and no doubt a crash at times - of thoughts. How else does anything in this universe grow except through friction? (Yeah, I know - "That's what she said.")
Why "Sarah, Ruth & I..."?
Some of my fave Jewish role models - Sarah, the first female Jewish convert, and how hard must that have been? You don't take many larger leaps of faith than being the first at anything (especially when it6 deals with spirituality.) And Ruth so passionately believed in her conversion that it became its own Book in the Jewish canon.
What stream of Judaism are you following?
Reform Judaism. Have really connected with its message of social justice being intertwined with spirituality. (Something I wish my Paganism had been more in tune with.) Love its ongoing discussion regarding religion (so unlike Christianity, which I was dragged up on.) Also love that it accepts me as I am - not as "handicapped", a "mistake" or just freakish, as some other religions have. (In case I hadn't mentioned it, I identify as a queer woman of transsexual experience).
Where do you go to Temple?Temple Israel, Boston - a welcoming community that greeted me so warmly from my very first Shabbat. (I currently go there for my Shabbat, Torah Study, Introduction to Judaism Class and Riverway Project Shabbats). The clergy and congregation have gone out of their way to remind me that the gates here are always open. They are resoundingly and unapologetically Pro-Israel (although they do feel free to question and act upon the country's less than liberal human rights record), left of center, and embrace the LGBT community (as in couples, families and singles.).http://www.tisrael.org/ Riverway Project Ohel Tzedek: Tent of Justice http://www.tisrael.org/gblt.asp
General Misc.:
Reading:
Just finished "Surprised by God" by Rabbi Danya Ruttenberg and couldn't recommend it more. Although she is a culture Jew and needed no formal conversion, I found many similarities between her journey and my own. In fact, my copy of the book is embarassingly annotated.Surprised by God: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love Religion
For my class I am reading "Living a Jewish Life," a very accessible book by Anita Damant, and "Settings of Silver" by Stephen Wylen.
Other books read and recommended:
"The Sabbath" - by Abraham Joshua Heschel The Sabbath
"Seasons of Our Joy" - Arthur Waskow Seasons of Our Joy
"Choosing a Jewish Life" also byAnita Damant
"On Both Sides of The Fence"by Vladka Meed
"Maus: A Survivor's Tale" Volumes 1 & 2 by Art SpiegelmanMaus I & II
"Chronicles of The Holocaust"
Music:
As I post this I am listening to cuts from The Josjh Nelson Project. I had the absolute joy of listening to them live at Temple Israel, Boston's Soul Food/Riverway Project. http://joshnelsonproject.com/
Fave Local Jewish Organizations/Store
Keshet - Keshet ("Rainbow")
Kolbo - Kolbo
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