BECOMING JEWISH - Blog: Into the Jewish Pool

Another comment on Christmas

12/23/2019

I've received several emails about the challenge of Christmas, family expectations, and worries that the Jewish community will disapprove of something we do at Christmas time.

One reply - from Ruth Aliza - deserves sharing because it speaks to all of these.

I just wanted to thank you for sending this timely and thoughtful note about Christmas and Jews-by-choice. This year I'm spending Christmas morning with my parents and siblings (who live locally), and then spending the afternoon/evening celebrating Chanukah with friends. I've never missed Christmas dinner before, and it was hard to tell my mother that I was going to eat Chinese takeout and watch a movie! But it felt like the right thing for me this year---I wanted to both spend Christmas with my family, and do something that felt Jewish on that day.

Tangentially related: This week, I stopped by my neighborhood Walgreens to pick up some stocking stuffers for my family. As luck would have it, I ran into two different families from my synagogue while I was standing ("Rudolph" red-handed?) in the Christmas tchotchkes aisle. At first I was mortified, but then I realized: (A) Most people don't care what I've got in my shopping basket, and (B) It's ok! I no longer celebrate Christmas as a personal holiday, but my family does, and that comes with some practicalities....like buying stocking stuffers.

My P.S. to all of you is that born Jews also like things like eggnog, peppermint, gingerbread, bright lights in the dark of winter, and more. Be kind to yourself.

Just for fun, here's a delicious latke recipe for those of us who are not terribly fond of fried potatoes.

What Will You Do About Christmas This Year?

12/16/2019

There are so many potential issues for a Jew-by-choice. Here are some that have been raised before:

*My family expects me to join them; how can I say no. I love them.
*I really love Christmas still. It isn’t religious for me, never was, just very festive.
*NOT having Christmas feels like such a momentous lifestyle change that I can’t wrap my head around it.
*I feel guilty having a Christmas tree.
*I feel guilty for wanting a Christmas tree.
*I’m afraid my rabbi/Jewish friends will find out I have a tree.
*I feel defensive and angry when people say this can’t be a secular holiday.
*I’m afraid my kids will love Christmas and hate me for depriving them of it.

And the list goes on.

Are you having yucky feelings about Christmas? STOP. You are not a bad person, you do love your family, you can have a tree, you can NOT have a tree, you aren’t depriving your children, no one gets to beat you up – not even you.

Christmas is just plain LOADED. How else would it sell everything from razors to dolls? Don’t feel bad that you have been influenced by our society’s huge investment in Christmas, financially, emotionally, spiritually, physically. You did not bring this on yourself. You live in America; it happens.

What to do? Stop letting negative feelings control you. Remember that you have a right to be a Jew who observes Christmas. Don’t be defensive or make up tales about why it’s OK. Embrace your truth. Be ready to say, “Hey, this holiday is the definition of family for me. I need it.” Or whatever is true for you. If people don’t like it you can smile and move on. Or you can ask them, “Do you have a solution? Let’s hear it.” Can they ‘fix’ your feelings? No, but I want you to. I don’t want you feeling bad.

Make a plan. Decide you are going to do which ever is most comfortable in your life this year. Then starting in January you have a year to plan to try something different. You could decide you’ll go to Hawaii next December, or to Tahoe or somewhere else. You could look around for friends with whom to spend the holiday. You could plan for a big Hanukkah year, go all out on decorations, parties and food. You could try going without the tree, or just the lights. You could make a decision that for ONE December in 2020 you’re going to test out doing what you think you “ought” to do. JUST FOR ONE YEAR. Then you are going to re-evaluate. I know a convert who decided, no Christmas for one December. The next year, yes, Christmas. Then after some reflection, my friend decided to stop having Christmas. At the same time I know people who have figured out how to make Christmas work in their home. Life is constantly changing. You get to experiment. Just be honest with your kids so they know what you’re doing.

I used my "English" name for my Hebrew name

12/8/2019

When choosing your Hebrew name you may want something brand new, or you may want to use some aspect of your given name. Look up your name. There may be an idea in what you find.

One young woman wrote this about choosing her Hebrew name:

I started day-dreaming about what Hebrew name I would pick from the very beginning. Choosing your name is an opportunity to choose your identity... and I wanted my identity to be sassy and awesome, meaningful and intelligent, and infinitely cooler than I actually am. And then finally, after two years, I settled on the perfect name: my legal one. The name that my mother and father chose for me. Because becoming Jewish, for me, was an act of choosing to recognize *who I already am.* I will always be my parents' daughter - a reality that I honored and recognized by keeping my legal first name as my Hebrew name. And just as I have now chosen a future among the Jewish tribe, I added "bat Avraham v' Sara" to my legal first name. My Hebrew name = my family of origin + my family by choice = my past + my future. My Hebrew name doesn't aspire to a new identity; instead, it does no more and no less than recognize me for who I am.

My Mom cried when I told her. There had been serious potential for her to feel alienated by my conversion (though we were both trying hard to prevent that), but my choice of Hebrew name made her feel included, validated, and honored. It really helped to make my conversion a beautiful experience for everyone.

(Granted: I'm really really lucky to have a legal name that is a diminutive of a classic biblical name!)

Nina found her name on Kveller's Jewish Baby Names List. Maybe yours is there!

The Timeline of Jewish Mourning

11/20/2019

This Timeline of Jewish Mourning is from My Jewish Learning and is incredibly useful. It provides the "Key Jewish milestones after the loss of a loved one."

Jewish tradition defines several stages in the process of mourning, which correspond quite well to the modern understanding of the emotional process of grief.

Read on to learn about the eight stages of Jewish mourning.

The Value of Learning Hebrew

10/15/2019

Do you HAVE to become fluent in Hebrew to convert? No. But you do have to learn SOME Hebrew. Why you must learn some of the language seems obvious to some, but here is a beautiful statement by Rabbi Larry Milder of Beth Emek in Pleasanton that expanses our understanding.

Unlock the Treasures
“Reading a poem in translation is like kissing a woman through a veil.”
So said the great Hebrew writer Hayim Nahman Bialik.

We are captives of our language. That is particularly true of our understanding of Judaism. We think we know what our texts mean, but, when read in English, we are only appreciating them through the filter of our language.

Language contains within it a world view. Yes, we can pray in English. Yes, we can study Torah in English. But we are missing the associations, the resonance of the text itself.

Puns: “Your name is to be Abraham, for I am making you the father of a multitude of nations” doesn’t make any sense in English, but in Hebrew, “Abraham” sounds like “father of many nations.”

Words built on common roots: Kiddush (the blessing over wine for Shabbat), Kaddish (the prayer recited by mourners) and Kiddushin (the wedding ceremony) are all related concepts (that which is set aside), something that cannot be recognized by calling them by their English names.

Acrostics: Ashrei, based on Psalm 145, is a poem in our prayer book that works as an acrostic, but entirely loses that device the moment it is translated.

This hardly scratches the surface of what is missing, or, for that matter, what is entirely misunderstood in translation.

As the expression goes: A translator is a traitor. (Actually, it goes “traduttore traditore.”)

The key to unlocking the treasures of Judaism is Hebrew. And learning Hebrew is easily within your reach, particularly the basic vocabulary that can make prayer understandable.

It’s not just meaning: knowing some Hebrew can enable you to see the beauty in the language of prayer.

Whether you are a beginner, or someone who needs a refresher, we offer a class for adults to learn Hebrew, starting with Alef-Bet, learning to read the Hebrew alphabet. It’s simple, fun, and instantly rewarding.

Beth Emek's Hebrew classes are listed here. Just about every synagogue offers Hebrew. Check the website of the synagogues around you.

Yes, Marriage can be the stimulus for considering conversion

8/15/2019

A friend of mine told me that she was asked by her rabbi to speak at their synagogue's Shavuot service last year. I asked her to let me share her speech. I love it. Here is Chava's story for all of you to read.

By Chava

I’d like to address what led me to convert to Judaism, what has been challenging and unexpected about it, and what good has come of the decision.

I became a Jew around this time of year, 33 years ago. My first child was born about 2 weeks later. I was one of three very pregnant women at a mikvah in Manhattan. I ended up at the mikvah, as exotic as the practice seemed to me when I first heard about it, because I wanted to do whatever was needed to assure there was no question as to the legitimacy of the conversion. I knew NO ONE who had been to mikvah at that point, and it was kind of funny to be regarded as a mikvah expert by my friends.

I had been thinking about and actively moving toward that moment for at least 4 years. It started when my then boyfriend and I began to talk about getting married, and realized that we had different ideas-- about the possible location of our wedding (the nearby Unitarian church was out), about having a Christmas tree in our home, and, prompted by a discussion with some friends who were about to have a baby, the non-negotiability of circumcision. Though we never abandoned the idea of getting married, wedding planning stalled when he began to talk about having a Jewish home and raising Jewish children, and we both knew we had to understand what we had ahead of us as a couple.
So the simple answer to why I was motivated to convert is, marriage. Although religion wasn’t a big part of my life up to that point, I had spent some time in the Episcopal church growing up, had sung in the choir, and wasn’t willing to convert to check a box on the way to the wedding. My father had been raised as Southern Baptist, but was happy to have my mother take the lead in the family as an Episcopalian. I enjoyed the Christmas season and didn’t want to give it up. I identified as a Christian, though in retrospect my feelings about the concept of Jesus were not ever in conflict with Judaism.   I had already heard people say that one can’t really convert, you have to be born Jewish, and I could see early on that joining the Jewish people was about a lot more than theology. I did not want to do something that felt inauthentic, out of respect for both the Jewish people and my own integrity. After quite a bit of thought and exploration, including a 3 month intro to Judaism course given by the Reform movement and an interfaith couples group at the 92nd street Y, we went ahead and got married by a rabbi in a Jewish ceremony. We were fairly confident that we could sort out the issues.   It took me almost another year and the reality of our soon-to-be-born child to feel ready to convert: the couples group had been tremendously helpful, as was our growing involvement at our synagogue, and being in NYC was certainly one of the better places I could have been, as there were so many Jewish resources.
Three things were clear to me:

*I didn’t want to knowingly do anything that might make our child feel less than fully accepted in the Jewish community, and not having a Jewish mother might have been an issue

*I believed that being members of a synagogue and the greater Jewish community would be good for us as a family

*I knew just enough about Judaism to believe that there was something in it for ME, even though I wasn’t sure exactly what that might be. I was willing to live with that uncertainty.

Four years, and one more child later, we moved to Princeton, and joined the local synagogue. As a friend recently said, we didn’t anticipate when we moved here that we would still be here 29 years later, but this has become our home. At first, I considered just passing as a Jew (no one here knew I was a convert, so why not?) But within a year I blew my cover by organizing some discussions of intermarriage issues, which eventually led to the formation of the Outreach Committee. We ran a variety of programs, including potluck Shabbat dinners, sukkah building parties and discussions designed for intermarried couples, individuals considering conversion, parents of adult children contemplating intermarriage and anyone else interested in the topic. Talking openly about my experience was good for me and seemed to be useful to others. This work undoubtedly had the side benefit of helping me connect with lots of people in the congregation. During this time I worked at the Jewish Outreach Institute with Egon Mayer---which fortuitously led to my longtime involvement with Lilith Magazine. All good experiences.

The challenges of deciding to convert have largely been outweighed by the benefits.   I had to start learning about the practice and culture of Judaism, even learn a new language, in my mid-thirties, but I know that many born Jews, for one reason or another, have a similar experience. As part of an adult bat mitzvah group here over 20 years ago, I got to know a number of women who were catching up on their Jewish education. Meeting that challenge gave me both the pride of accomplishment, and the pleasure of developing close friendships with that group of women, friendships which have endured and which we famously celebrate every December on our bat mitzvah anniversary, all six of us.

Another challenge was what to do with my birth family, especially my mother, who at the moment I told her I had decided to convert was surprisingly understanding and positive, saying that it was more important than anything that my husband and I and our children be together in one religion. But she was also afraid of being left out, and tearfully told me so, and neither of us really knew how we would navigate this. Sometimes she DID feel left out, and sometimes I felt a bit lonely preparing for holiday meals, with no family recipes of my own to rely on for the brisket or the latkes. Even aside from my mother’s feelings, I have had to work at feeling the observance of the holidays as deeply as I know many of you do, you who have childhood memories and generations of family members who were Jews, and for whom in a very real sense you are carrying on traditions that would make them proud. Fortunately, the effort that my mother and I made to work this out brought us closer---I appreciated how willing she was to learn about Judaism, to find the perfect words for each of her grandchildren at their b’nai mitzvot, to accompany us through all of this as a family.

I always wondered what I would do and how I would reckon with my Jewishness when my Episcopalian mother died. Because she came to live near me for the last 3 ½ years of her life, it turned out even differently than I might have imagined. She had become a member of All Saints Episcopal Church, and when she died about two years ago, Father Hugh Brown helped me organize a memorial service that was just perfect, and he knew her well enough to present a very accurate picture of her. The nights of shiva were meaningful, and showed me clearly that many people cared and I was not alone. Her religious identity and my present reality intertwined beautifully.

One more challenge worth mentioning now was that of shepherding my son and daughter through their Jewish education when I was in the midst of it for myself, and creating Jewish home life for them. I had to learn on the job, and worried at times about my lack of prior experience. But we made it through the bar and bat mitzvah, and at this juncture my two millennials have both been to Israel more times than I have, show up for and enjoy Passover, observe the high holidays, and otherwise identify as Jews. When they were growing up my orientation to Jewish life was much more about them. I’ll never completely step away, but it’s really up to them now to define their Jewish identity.

There have been times when, in spite of everything I have just said, I have felt my difference as an outsider, when conversations turn to growing up in Brooklyn or the Bronx, Hebrew school experiences, when people talk about their deep connection to Israel, their Yiddish speaking relatives, their food preferences. As I have been known to say, “My grandmother made Rice Krispies treats, not kugel.” For me, the old country is Arkansas and Missouri, and before that Great Britain, not Brooklyn, the Bronx, and Eastern Europe.

While I was thinking about writing this, I had a new realization about this feeling of difference that I’m really grateful for. I think many if not most of us have something in our experience that makes us feel like “the other”, and for me it was the effect of having my father die when I was just 7, and growing up feeling that huge loss as well as how it made my mother, brother and me feel different from most other families. Feeling like the outsider at times is such a familiar feeling from my childhood that I haven’t always realized that it’s sometimes misplaced. Not all born Jews have ties to Brooklyn; some are from Chicago, or Ohio! And those with Brooklyn roots might be just as interested in what I say about Kansas City. We’re just telling stories about our lives, after all.

The truth is that I did much to address that childhood loss by creating a family of my own, and I am certain that becoming a Jew was at least in part motivated by the fact that family was valued and emphasized, that I saw what looked and felt like a big extended family at our synagogue.

Let me say that I deeply appreciate having longtime friends in my (this) synagogue who are really like family, and I feel a connection with others even if we don’t know each other well. To put it a little differently (than Ruth did)…YOU people are my people!

A Personal Journey to Judaism

8/13/2019

Over on our Facebook page one of our group offered to share his story of converting. Here is Akiva Michael's story.

My family raised me with a focus on education, critical thinking, and ethical behavior. When my brother found out about my conversion plans he wrote to me. He said, “...it kind of surprised me because I never had a sense that you were all that active or intentional about any particular faith.” He’s right. My family is Catholic, but I have generally been a skeptical agnostic. I’ve always been interested in Judaism, though, from an historical and religious perspective. Some friends told me about the hatafat dam brit - that kept me away for a while.
So why the turnaround? Those born to Judaism may not know that converts are traditionally turned away three times. They are asked "Why did you come to convert? Do you know that Israel at this time is afflicted, oppressed, downtrodden, and rejected, and that tribulations are visited upon them?"
I’ve observed anti-Semitism on the rise in our news cycle. I have watched with interest as Israel struggles with its own identity as an inclusive state. After Pittsburgh, several people asked me if I was still sure about this. My response? Absolutely. I cast my lot with the Jewish people. I knew I didn’t need to be Jewish to do good things or to believe that the righteous will get their reward. Lord Rabbi Jonathan Sacks teaches that the Jews have thrived because, “At the heart of Judaism is...the belief in human freedom...There is nothing inevitable in the affairs of mankind.” I don’t believe in fate - I believe God has a plan, but I believe God can be convinced otherwise.
I’m in the military. When I was deployed to the Mediterranean we visited Israel and my dual curiosities about Judaism and conversion intersected. I visited the Kotel, walked the market streets, and took in the sights. I was blown away - Israel is a miracle. It made a lasting impression on me. Shortly after leaving the country we celebrated Passover on the North Red Sea. It all started coming together.
My wife got in touch with someone from a local synagogue. I started working with some Rabbis. I love that Judaism meets you where you are. I wasn’t ready before. I needed to see Judaism in action. When I visited Israel, I knew pursuing this was something I needed to do. I knew I was finally ready to take those steps. This was the basic evolution from “What is this?” to “Should we…?” to “I’m all in!”
So I started the study, practice, and decoding of all things Jewish. While some people find the lack of dogma in Judaism challenging, I think the empty space is the good stuff. I like the rabbinic arguments, the contradictions, and the varying traditions. I like the sassy Jewish heroes and heroines that challenge God’s judgment; they have backbone. I am a stiff-necked person; I belong here! As a convert I try to engage with it all to live my best Jewish life. I'm learning timeless wisdom in an ancient language and the expectation is to never stop learning. There is an expression of joyfulness and possibility inherent in Judaism. There is a responsibility to myself, my community, and the world. That’s my Jewish lens.
I know I’m no angel. I question myself constantly. Am I doing my best for tikkun olam? Understand, I don’t know the mechanics of the messianic age. I am not sure if I can affect the cosmos with my prayers. But as a personal cultivation and spiritual system, Judaism has stood the test of time. I’m in.
A Rabbi once told me “We start with the Sh’ma and everything else is up for debate.” To me, God is not only the force that brought order to this chaotic cosmic mess, but also that small, still voice in our minds. There’s just no way to fully grasp the God of Israel. I can’t say I’ve mastered every theological dilemma, but Judaism has struggled with these issues for millennia. I’m ok with the ambiguity and I’ve found my people.
Several months later and I am very involved in my Jewish life. I sing in the Temple Choir. I also try to set the example for younger Jews in the military by keeping kosher, wearing a kippah, and being available to talk about serving as a Jew. My wife and I are planning to visit Israel together in 2020 to experience ha’aretz as a family.

Video on How to Have an Aliyah

7/16/2019

Members of Netivot Shalom in Berkeley created a video showing you how to have an aliyah at their shul. It is primarily for the use of their members. But it is very useful to anyone wondering about how an aliyah works.

Please remember that this video includes elements that are unique to the Conservative movement and even some that are unique to Netivot Shalom. In general however, this is how an aliyah is performed in a synagogue. Women are not called to the Torah in Orthodox synagogues. Women don't always wear kippot (or yarmulkes) in Reform synagogues. The chanted blessings are the same in all synagogues.

View the video here.
Thank you to Robin Braverman and her fellow members for making this video!

The ritual of Sh’mira

7/12/2019

(Image by Rony Michaud on Pixabay)

Previously, we posted about attending a shiva with guidelines from Rabbi Helfand of Peninsula Sinai. Rabbi Helfand offers additional information about the ritual of Sh'mira, or Shimera, which means guard or watch. It is the Jewish practice of never leaving a body alone; rather we sit with the deceased until they are buried. Here is what Rabbi Helfand teaches:

One of the most important mitzvot that we can perform as an act of k'vod ha-met, giving honor and dignity to the deceased, is the mitzvah of sh'mira, sitting with the deceased before burial. Since the funeral will not take place until such and such a time Jews from the community take a one or two hour shift to sit with the body of the deceased.

What do you do during sh'mira?

Traditionally, we use this time to recite Psalms, other prayers or just sit quietly as a way of bringing God's presence and our own into the sacred space and asking God to watch over and protect the deceased person. This is also a beautiful way to make sure that this person is never alone between when she/he died and the funeral. Please refrain from using electronics during this time. Most importantly, sh’mira is a time where we try to have kavannah, intentionality for the sacred act that we are performing, be it praying, reflecting on the person’s life, or being present in silence.

Speak up! Be part of your own learning

6/14/2019

This week Rabbi Avi Shulman of Temple Beth Torah in Fremont sent out a this message to his congregation.

One of my favorite passages in Pirkei Avot consists of three couplets by Hillel. Here they are interspersed with my own comments:

“A boor does not fear sin,
And the ignorant cannot be models of piety.”

It’s striking that the English word for an oaf echoes the Hebrew word ‘bor.’ A ‘bor’ is an empty pit, which is synonymous with someone who is empty-headed.
Above all else, Hillel valued knowledge of Torah. Yet he esteemed knowledge not merely for its own sake but so learning would lead to righteous behavior.

“A bashful person does not learn,
And the short-tempered cannot teach.”

I can recall many students who would sit quietly in class while others did most of the talking. Yet Hillel reminds students to speak-up. Productive learning takes place when students are engaged. Just as importantly, it is vital for teachers to welcome class in-put and participation. Instructors who are short-tempered intimidate their students, deteriorating the learning environment.

“Not all who succeed in business are wise.
In a place where there are no people* strive to be one.”

Hillel reminds us not to give undue deference to people who are successful in business. Tevye in Fiddler in the Roof may long to be a rich man, singing “When you are rich they think you really know.” Hillel informs us that material success is not synonymous with wisdom.

In the concluding verse, Hillel admonishes us to act morally even when others are behaving inhumanely. He encourages us to strive for virtue, even when others are not. No matter the circumstances, Hillel inspires us to be our best selves, to aspire to be a mensch.

This is a message that I want students to take to heart.
SPEAK UP
DON'T STAY WITH A TEACHER WHO IS INTIMIDATING

Jewish tradition values study, questions, and argument (for the sake of heaven). Don't be silent. Participate in your own learning.

*The original, as you can imagine, says “man” or mensch – a good person. Where there are no good people, strive to be one. You can read the original text here.