Category: Reform Judaism

Is the Christmas Tree an issue?

10/27/2020

I have another question from our curious young woman.
She asked about how Jews by Choice feel about the Christmas tree. Here are her 3 questions.

What do converts know of the origins of the Christmas tree?
Given that it is pagan, would you have one in your home – especially if your kids wanted one? Why or why not.
Do you view a Christmas tree as Christian?

Replies:

There is not a conflict for me as I currently live alone and do not have to consider children.
Yes, of course I view a Christmas tree as Christian! The name is clear, no? Christ-mas tree!
My son and grandsons do celebrate Christmas, largely as a secular holiday, and have a Christmas tree. I enjoy buying them Christmas presents and dining with them that day, but it is clear that I do not celebrate the holiday and my son refers to my gifts as Hanukkah gifts.
Hannah 

***

Here are a few thoughts about my understanding of Christmas trees:
They originally were put up to celebrate winter solstice, or Yule, or Yuletide, and the days growing longer again after the solstice occurred (a pagan celebration).

The Catholic church co-opted these celebrations into Christmas and turned the Yule tree into a Christmas tree, so now it’s basically a Christian-related tree vs. Yule or pagan.

Many people see Christmas trees and other Christmas items as “folk” or family traditions instead of religious traditions. I have siblings who are in that camp.

I also have Jewish friends who celebrate the holiday season with a Christmas or Yule tree. One Jewish friend hangs a stocking on her fireplace mantle next to her tree, but the stocking has “Happy Hannukah” on it, which I think is kind of funny. I don’t take many of these cross-over things very seriously. To me, almost everything is a form mythology (e.g., Santa Claus, the oil burning 8 nights), and it’s just a matter of which mythology you choose or prefer.

My born Jewish wife and I don’t mind “helping” non-Jews celebrate Christmas (such as my siblings) but we don’t celebrate it ourselves and don’t have a tree or other Christmas items -- Chanuka only. Some Jews participate in Christmas activities, as if they didn’t want to “miss out” on the fun, or they see it as a form of “multiculturalism” or “diversity”, but to me Christmas commercialism is so overwhelming, I can’t see it as something that needs further promotion.

But again, I don’t take these things as seriously as my wife does. It is interesting to me that some Jews refuse to get stressed about anything pertaining to Christmas while other Jews become seriously depressed about it, as if their “seasonal affected depression” is triggered or made even worse by the Christmas season. My wife tends to fall into that category, especially when it comes to our adult daughter’s husband and in-laws celebrating Christmas, but I try not to go down that path and try to take more of a “live and let live” approach. Again, it’s all mythology of one form or another, and when kids grow up, they will see it all for what it is. I realize that some people have much stronger sentimental attachments to things they did growing up than I do. I tend to be more skeptical and detached. Personalities are all over the map, so it’s easy to make generalizations that are not accurate.
David

***
I see it as a seasonal symbol, not Jewish but also not specifically Christian. I have no kids but my partner loves to have a tree as a symbol of New Year with no specific religious meaning (c’mon, it’s not a créche!!) so I have no problem with it so far.
Adir

***

I love this question. Here is my far-too-long response!

1. Recognize that for many Jews by choice, the CTI (Christmas Tree Issue) can be as long-lived as a redwood tree and if you are concerned about it now be warned that you might be concerned about it for years to come! However by the time you finish reading this, maybe not.

2. The Christmas tree being pagan in origin is a point relevant only in a conversation about the pagan origins of things with the few people who can get their mind around what pagan even means. It's not relevant for Jews who converted from a Christian tradition because of just that, they converted from a Christian tradition, not from a pagan tradition.

3. The pagan origins of the Christmas tree is also not relevant for two sets of non-Jews: Christians, who consider it a part of their Christian holiday; and agnostics and atheists who celebrate Christmas as a delightful holiday but who turn a blind eye to the Christian themes. That last point is easy to do because in fact the Christian themes are secondary to the agnostic-themes such as Santa, santa hats, red and white candy-canes, anything else red and white, reindeer, red noses, antlers, gaily-colored wrapped gifts, red ribbons, anything and everything red and green, holly, snowflakes, robins in the snow, sleighs riding through the snow, snowmen sitting in snow, anything else in the snow, etc etc, and not forgetting mistletoe and yule logs (bringing up the pagan rear guard again). The fact that Christmas is "supposed" to be anything about Christianity is lost in a blizzard of Christmas-imagery, which are essentially "winter celebration things".

4. Missing from that list above is: the Christmas tree. It's such a central point to the Christmas-imagery list that it deserves to be in a list of one all by itself. A Christmas tree means only one thing, Christmas; its very name says it all. It doesn't have a darned thing to do with Christianity, but as per above list it has everything to do with Christmas.

5. For Jewish converts struggling with the CTI, that can be a lot of heavy baggage to drag out of the way on the journey to living-Jewish, a point which is important to Jews by Choice who are sensitive to imagery which either "proves" their Jewishness (like having a menorah in the window) or "proves" their previous non-Jewish background (like having a Christmas tree in the window).

6. Neither of those things actually prove anything but such imagery is a touchstone which sends out a signal to the Jew by Choice and to everyone else regarding "what that person really is".

7. Having a Christmas tree, if you are a Jew by Choice, sends a mixed signal. "Who am I?" says that signal. For yourself, if you converted, then you are a Jew, and having a tree in the living room for 2 weeks of the year will not undo your conversion. For everyone else looking through the window, it's none of their damned business but if you are troubled by that put the tree away from the window.

8. The Jew by Choice struggling with the CTI may be tempted to claim "it's OK for me to have a Christmas tree because it's pagan in origin", but that would be dishonest (even if it's a factually true statement) since it's not very likely they ever gave paganism a second thought when they had a Christmas tree back in their pre-Jewish days, and it certainly won't convince anyone else looking in as they won't know anything about pagan origins unless they were in that rarified conversation in paragraph 2 above.

9. But having a Christmas tree because your kids want one is a very good reason to have one. Who says one set of people can't join in the cultural fun of another set of people? If you lived in a society that keeps to its own, such as Hasidic Jews do, then this and other dilemmas of assimilation don't arise but the fact you are even asking about the CTI suggests you aren't anywhere close to such a society. The value to the kids in having one may be greater than the value to yourself in not having one.

10. So buy the tree and enjoy it and assuage any guilt by blaming the kids. Then when they grow up stop having one, if the CTI still bothers you. By then you may have dropped it anyway, or you will have come to realize that having one doesn't actually matter unless you make it matter. Either way, at that point the CTI will no longer be an issue.
Eliezer

Note: It is a very Western culture viewpoint to see individual expression as of primary importance. Judaism is not an individualistic culture; it is communal. What impacts one Jew, impacts all Jews. We should be thoughtful in what we dismiss as simply for our own happiness.

***

About Christmas trees -- I don't have one, but I also don't view it as Christian because Christmas is so commercialized nowadays anyway together with all the expected shopping, trees, etc. It is like red roses for Valentine's Day...

I don't have kids, but if I did, I would take this as an opportunities to explain what it is, what it symbolized, etc. with a view of understanding "foreign cultures." In fact, my father is a daoist. That was how he explained the Christmas tree and other different religions to me when I was growing up. It's more of cultural arts/humanities & social studies in our home back in the days.
Binah

What do you know of the origins of the Christmas tree?
Originally German. Came to England through German rulers. There were early German influences (late 1700’s- early 1800’s) in the US & Canada. The popularity of Christmas trees in Victorian England (1840’+) really cemented the popularity of Christmas trees in America.

Given that it is pagan, would you have one in your home
Pagan origin has nothing to do with it. Do you think that Jews were the first people to blow rams horns or play harps?
We haven’t had one in our home for more than 20 years. Even before that we didn’t place much importance on it. We did go to friends Christmas parties and our daughter went to homes for friends and relatives who had Christmas trees.

Do you view a Christmas tree as Christian?
They are both a Christian thing and, in our era a more cultural item.
Don’t forget that, historically, some American Jews did have Christmas trees. Southern Jews often had them. Alfred Uhry wrote three plays about Southern Jews in his Atlanta Trilogy. In the first two, about assimilated Jews, Driving Miss Daisy and Last Night at Ballyhoo, there are Christmas trees at the parties in the protagonists houses – without stars or creches.
Most of the intermarried families that I know have trees and Christmas parties.
Mikhael

Note: Mikhael is right, most interfaith families have a Christmas tree. This speaks to the intense power and attachment that the tree represents, to Americans (not necessarily Christian) who have had one all their life. We can dismiss this, but we would be foolish to do so. Anything with such a strong emotional impact on humans matters.

***

Christmas trees are of pagan origin. Pagan pretty much means Avodah Zara. Avodah Zara is explicitly forbidden. So no Christmas trees in Jewish homes if you care about biblical commandments.
Shifra

Note: I am glad Shifra raises this important point as it is often forgotten. The Torah does not say a single word about Christianity because Christianity didn't exist in biblical times. It has a great deal to say about paganism; in fact it rails against paganism. In today's world few Jews feel threatened by pagan practice, however is it biblically forbidden. Whether you personally accept this it is important to understand that historical and traditional Judaism do! Therefore, know what the teachings say and be prepared to discuss this topic knowledgably.

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My Journey to Judaism

10/31/2018

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By Elisheva, a female Reform convert

Growing up in a relatively non-religious household, I never seriously considered why spirituality and religion are so important to people. Growing up in a predominantly Christian town, I had always been more attracted to non-Christian religions. For a while, I fancied myself Buddhist and chanted Sanskrit mantras. (This phase took place from middle school into high school.) But my interest was more intellectual than personal and spiritual. At no point did I seriously explore Judaism though I had thought about it as an option.
                The only other time I delved into religion was when I went to a Church of Latter-Day Saints in my hometown. My sister and I were around six to eight-years-old when we attended Sunday school and services at the church. We went primarily because my dad’s side of the family were Mormons from Utah and I suppose my parents wanted my sister and me to have some exposure to religion to find out what we felt most connected to. Alas, Mormonism didn’t stick, partially because we were being pressured to get baptized when we had no desire to and felt we weren’t committed enough to do so. I remember my mother especially resenting this pressure because she wanted us to make the choice ourselves. I am beyond grateful to have been exposed to Mormonism, yet also glad I got out of it so that I didn’t feel obligated to do something I didn’t have to.
                I’d say religion didn’t come up again until my freshman and sophomore years of university because I had a couple of close Christian friends. One in particular being my friend Will with whom I had many conversations about faith. We once had a conversation in which he said, “I know you don’t believe, but….” That statement triggered a sincere reflection on what I do believe. At the time I was a struggling agnostic, rebelling against organized religion…mostly Christianity.
                The truth is I have never felt a connection to Christ as savior, nor have I ever enjoyed the preaching of Elders constantly at my door. I openly dislike the Christian emphasis on Hell and its use to inspire fear and motivate good deeds. But I have never strongly disparaged Christians for their beliefs. Just not for me.
                I asked myself whether I could go through life without spirituality. Is that what I was missing?
                One night, I visited the Contemporary Jewish Museum with Will where a Stanley Kubrick exhibit was going on. This was October of 2016. This was the first time that I had been in a Jewish space, so I thought of Judaism and Jewish culture. After the visit, I became very quiet and felt meditative. I then said, “I think I want to convert to Judaism.” It was so sudden, but I think I was finally voicing what had been going on in my subconscious.
                Subsequently, I did research on Jewish beliefs, the conversion process, and the different denominations. I then researched Reform synagogues in San Francisco because I identified with the liberalism of the Reform movement.
                My first time in a synagogue was daunting since it was unlike anything I had ever experienced. I started out going to Kabbalat Shabbat services every Friday and sat in the rear-most pews due to my shyness. I didn’t want to be noticed fumbling over Hebrew. I didn’t want to make friends, really. It took me many months before I felt comfortable moving up the pews and bowing and talking to people at the oneg. I credit kind clergy and my mentor with my increasing comfort in the community.
                Books were also a source of comfort. Jewish history and life has inspired many a novel, and I wanted to read a lot of them. I learned about the openness of Judaism, how intellectual and academic Jewish religious life is, and how varied Jewish philosophy is. Each book brought me closer to why I wanted Judaism. I discovered that my sensibilities aligned with Jewish life. I enjoy study, I’m a skeptic, etc.
                Moreover, I began to view the Bible differently. What once had seemed like an inaccessible fable/self-help book became a literary adventure and spiritual guidebook…and still a fable. I appreciated the Reform view of the Bible as written by man with divine inspiration because it allows for freedom in study of the text. You can study it for morality lessons one day, then focus on literary interpretation the next, or even both at once.
                During the initial stages of my spiritual discovery, my sister showed interest. She constantly asked me questions, some which I couldn’t answer. Then we started studying Torah together weekly, and her interest inspired me. Sharing my journey with her made me happy and accepted.
                Nonetheless, I occasionally had difficulty when going home to visit my family for a weekend or during breaks from university. My mother has asked me more than once to run an errand for her on a Saturday and I have had to politely refuse due to my commitment to Shabbat rest. At first, she didn’t understand and thought Shabbat was just an excuse for me to sleep all day. Granted, I did occasionally take the opportunity to nap, but I mostly read books and prayed when I wanted to.
                My dad, on the other hand, a man who had sworn off Mormonism in his teen years and has since turned to Norse paganism as a faith, has teased me about my chosen monotheism. Initially, this made me uncomfortable, but now I enjoy having banter. We also have a sort of joke that whenever we drink alcohol together and I say “L’chaim”, he deliberately mispronounces the toast or says, “Skaal” in response. (Skaal is Norwegian for “Cheers”.) Generally, he and my mother are supportive of my decision to convert.
                However, I don’t envision my parents ever joining me at synagogue. Although my sister has attended services in Davis with me.
                I realize I have yet to mention God. When I was younger, I fantasized about an old white dude with a booming voice like in The Prince of Egypt giving me advice and granting me wishes. Now I wrestle with God because God is no longer some fantasy in my mind. God is not a man in the sky. God doesn’t get angry when I swear. Exploring Judaism has helped me gain confidence in questioning God and discovering what I do believe God to be. I’ve found I connect most to the concept of the Shechinah, the maternal Presence of God. I think I felt it after attending the Second Night Seder during Pesach. I felt transcendent once I left the space. I was overcome with the joy of being with community. Was all of this truly the Shechinah? Perhaps. It’s what I attributed my feelings to. God being a comforting Presence gives me peace, especially during Shabbat after a busy week operating in the “tyranny of space” as Heschel puts it.
                I like the idea of God as a unifying energy or force that gives meaning to the universe and purpose to our human lives. I am comforted by God as eternity. I also look forward to endlessly contemplating God as I age. Judaism has granted me a gift in that respect.
                On the other hand, I am also comforted by the fact that one doesn’t have to believe in God to be Jewish, which allows for diversity of thought in the community and very interesting Torah study contributions.
                Being a part of the Tribe, as it were, and now having a partner who is Jewish imbues me with a strong sense of pride and optimism for my (Jewish) life. Conversion is the most transformative decision I have made so far. I feel welcomed and loved.

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Eikev: Insight on Circumcision (From Coffee Shop Rabbi)

8/10/2017

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The Circumcision By Vincenzo Catena

Rabbi Ruth Adar in her Coffee Shop Rabbi blog offers some useful insights into the spiritual thinking around circumcision. I want you to see all the Talmudic quotes so I will post only the opening paragraph here and link to the blog itself.

Eikev: Insight on Circumcision

Parashat Eikev offers us a path to deeper understanding of brit milah [ritual circumcision] with its command, “Circumcise the foreskin of your heart and be no more stiff-necked.” (Deut. 10:16) What is the connection between circumcision and a stiff neck? Sukkah 52a offers a clue, saying:
R. Avira (or some say R. Joshua b. Levi) taught that… “Uncircumcised” is one of the names of the yetzer hara.”

Continued here...

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My Jewish Journey

7/18/2016

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By Hannah, a female Reform convert

I’ve always felt a connection to Judaism ever since I was young. I remember telling my Mom when I was younger that I wish I was Jewish and that I wanted to marry a Jewish man. She would just look at me puzzled and ask me “why?”. I was never sure why…. and I still can’t explain it. I wanted to be part of that tradition. The history intrigued me and I loved Jewish humor. It never occurred to me that I could ever actually be Jewish. I thought the only way to be Jewish was by being born that way.

I started dating my fiancé in 2010. I didn’t seek him out because he was Jewish...that was just a happy coincidence. We had mutual friends and started playing music together and became best friends for 2 years before we started dating. After 5 years together he proposed and said that he hoped that I would convert to Judaism and that it was important to him. I always wanted to be Jewish, but somehow I didn't think converting would be what I wanted it to be. I had preconceived notions about it. I thought that I would have to believe in God or at least pretend to believe to convert. I thought I would have to practice the conservative version of the religion because that’s all I knew about. I thought I might have to believe every literal word of the Torah. I thought converting only meant that I practice the Jewish religion, but I could never really be considered a Jew. I thought I would feel like a fraud.

I was sour on the idea of “organized religion” even though I never really thought about what was meant by the term. I wasn't clear on my beliefs towards God. I was agnostic and didn't really take time to think about these questions or about spirituality. I was too busy with work and life.

Since it was important to my fiancé and I was still intrigued by Judaism, I thought I would look into what conversion really looks like. The first thing I did was Google Jewish conversion in the Bay Area and luckily I stumbled upon Dawn Kepler’s amazing website BecomingJewish.net. I read people’s conversion stories and started to realize that none of my previous judgments about converting were true. In fact, in some cases people had the same ideas that I did, yet found the opposite to be true and found a home and a community within Judaism. After reading these stories I started to get excited about this opportunity. I then set up an appointment with Rabbi Mates-Muchin. On our first appointment she completely laid to rest all of my concerns about having to believe in God and old school ideas about Judaism. So I decided to start my conversion process.

Over the 10 months or so of my conversion process I had talks with Rabbi Mates-Muchin, I took the Intro to Judaism class with Rabbi Adar, I sometimes read the weekly Torah portions, I went to some Shabbat services and holidays at Temple Sinai. The things that I learned over that span of time sparked a lot of thought within me about Judaism, God, spirituality and tradition. I didn’t expect how much this process would really make a difference in my life.

Many unexpected changes took place within me as a result of the conversion and learning process that I never could have imagined. Initially, I was very judgmental about religion and prejudged people in other religions for their beliefs. In learning about Judaism it has allowed me to be open to more things. I realized that “religion” isn’t just one thing represented by one collection of beliefs. There are many interpretations of what religion can be. I’ve stopped assuming that I know what religion means to everyone or that I know what their beliefs are just because they belong to a certain religion. I always considered myself to be the most accepting person, but for some reason that didn’t extend to “religious” people. I’ve even discovered that I was missing out on getting to know really great people since I had been writing them off because of their religiousness.

In studying Jewish beliefs and traditions, I feel like it makes me a better person who wants to make wise choices, be good to people and help others. Reading Torah, learning about mitzvot and being around others who are striving to be better people has helped me to take a look at myself. I now find myself looking for ways to perform mitzvot. Not that I was uncaring before, but I just never really thought about it day to day. Now I feel more compassionate, more at peace and thankful. I also know that I’m not perfect, yet this process of learning and improving has provided a framework that will always help me as I go through life.

I was encouraged to try “Jewish things” during this process and never thought they would be as meaningful as they are. Prayer, blessings, performing mitzvot, the act of learning and Shabbat dinner have become practices that I have come to cherish. These acts have put me in touch with a tradition that has been carefully held on to for thousands of years even when it’s beholders and the right to practice them has been threatened over and over again. These traditions have strengthened my faith and connection to something greater than myself.

Through this process, I have even come around to having a belief in some sort of God, not necessarily the old bearded man in the sky that I was so turned off by initially but some sort of higher being that is beyond our understanding; something else out there beyond just the humans on earth; something outside of us that ties us together. This newfound belief has enriched my life. I can’t fully articulate my beliefs in it yet, but I know I feel a shift and for the first time since I was a little girl, I’m excited about the idea of a higher being and I’m eager to keep exploring about what it means to me.

Another favorite part of this process has been learning about Jewish history. The origin of the Jewish people, the times of peace, the times of struggle, the changes, the discussions and the triumphs of the Jewish people fascinates me. Learning this history makes me appreciate Judaism and all the generations, families and people before me who preserved it. The perseverance and spirit of the Jewish people amazes and inspires me every day. It means so much to me to be part of this community and to carry on these beautiful traditions. Throughout its history, some preserved the traditions of Judaism openly with joy, some with obligation and some with fear. I know that for the rest of my life as a Jewish woman who carries on this tradition there will be days when I will experience each of those feelings: joy, obligation, and even fear. But through it all, I will feel proud to call myself a Jew.

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Thoughts on converts in 2016

2/19/2016

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This week a bay area rabbi's weekly email to his congregation focused on Jews by choice. It is a very positive message. And it contains a few assumptions that I would prefer were eliminated. But again, it is hugely positive. We would like to hear from Jews by choice - what do you think? What do you like about the article? How does your own experience compare to what is described?

Here is the article in full.

Are You a Jew by Choice? We Welcome You!
I've stopped counting.
I've just lost count of how many synagogue presidents I have worked with who are Jews by choice.
No, not everyone who converts to Judaism takes on the extraordinary responsibility of leading a congregation. But it is remarkable the degree to which the Jewish community, and Jewish life in its entirety, has been strengthened by those who chose to cast their lot with the Jewish people.
It might be said that, in our open society, all Jews are Jews by choice. That is, any Jew is a Jew because s/he wants to be. It didn't use to be that way. Social boundaries were rigid, and Jews were often regarded as "other," whether they wanted to be or not.
It is a blessing that we do not live in that kind of world any more. Yet, the choice of hundreds of thousands of people to choose to be Jewish is something that centuries of Jews could never have imagined.
Indeed, one or two generations ago, converts to Judaism were relatively rare. They certainly did not get the kind of welcome and acceptance that the Jewish community should have extended to them. Jewish tradition honors those who convert to Judaism, and considers them as fully Jewish as one born into the faith. But that doesn't mean that we always behaved that way.
Thankfully, things have changed. Maybe not everywhere, and not among all Jews. But the reality is impossible to deny. Where would we be if not for those who chose to be Jewish? They are our leaders, our partners in life, our readers of Torah and our teachers. They transmit Judaism to the next generation as their own precious heritage.
Judaism has an irreconcilable tension with regard to recognizing the convert. One is prohibited from reminding the convert that s/he once wasn't a Jew. At the same time, we are taught to honor converts. The Midrash teaches: "Dearer to God is the convert who has come of his/her own accord than all the crowds of Israelites who stood before Mount Sinai." A Jew by choice is given the honorary lineage of ben/bat Avraham v'Sarah, the son/daughter of Abraham and Sarah. You can't get more authentic than that.
No one should imagine that the journey into Judaism is easy. I realize that the challenges can appear unannounced and at awkward moments.
As a congregation, though, it is incumbent upon us to say the same words as every Jew by choice: Your people shall be my people, and your God, my God.

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Journey to Wholeness

12/9/2015

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By Miryam Eliana
(Reform conversion)

From my earliest memories, I knew that I came here to ‘help save the world.’ At the risk of sounding ‘woo-woo’ or ‘out-there’ what I mean by here is here to planet Earth. I came here with the memory (as strange as it may sound) of having made a commitment before I was born.

Let me explain what I mean by “memory” and ‘commitment’.

Memory: As a child of 3 years old, I knew in my DNA (or as some people would say ‘I knew it in my bones’) that there is a G-d and that I came here to fulfill a promise to G-d. A promise to learn about G-d and the world, to work on making myself a better person. This ‘memory or knowing’ caused me to search high and low for my ‘home’ in the world.
Commitment: During my early childhood, I also remembered making commitment to help save the world. As a young child I had no idea what this meant or how I was going to achieve it, but during my conversion studies, I have learned that this is what Judaism calls Tikun Olam. As I write today, I sustain this commitment and am amazed that there is an entire people committed to Tikun Olam and to building a brighter future. I am blessed to have found Judaism.

This paper is about my journey to wholeness, a search to ‘find myself’ and to fulfill my commitment to Tikun Olam. This journey has taken a lifetime and is one that I will continue until the day I close my eyes for the last time.

Before making the decision to become Jewish, I tried finding my home in many places. I grew up in a Christian-belief system. From age 3 – 8, my mother took me to a non-denominational church, then around age 9, she became the professional soloist for the local Christian Science Church and I attended this church until I was 17 years old. I didn’t feel at home in either of these places. The Christian Scientists were wonderful people and one woman in particular became a second mother to me. She tried to convince me to join the church, but I knew that Christian Science was not my path.

At age 17, I received a brochure in the mail from the local Seventh Day Adventists (SDA) that talked about Shabbat and G-d’s dietary laws. I studied for some time with the SDA people and knew in my bones that Shabbat was something that I wanted to keep, but I always felt uneasy about Jesus. Because of my commitment to keeping Shabbat, I joined the SDA church. But after 20 years, I finally left the church because I could not bring myself to believe in Jesus. Add this to the fact that in the SDA church, I began studying a biblical concordance with Hebrew and Aramaic in order to understand the Bible. I came to services each week prepared to debate the Bible and what it meant to me. As I came prepared to present my case to the ministers, I was surprised that this wasn’t a very popular activity with them. As a matter of fact, they shunned my biblical studies so much that I was made to feel more like an outcast than a member. I finally became tired of being an outsider, having my needs for study and discussion go unfulfilled, and feeling a discomfort every time the name of Jesus was mentioned. So after 20 years, I left the SDA church to continue my search. But where could I go? I yearned to find my home.

Over the years, I jokingly told people that I was searching for my tribe but hadn’t found it. But even though I said this in jest, I really felt like I was indeed searching for a people or a tribe. So I continued to search. I vowed to G-d to keep Shabbat on my own and simply to be unaffiliated with a group for the time being.

But finally, G-d played a trick on me. I had a child, and around age 5, Michael began to ask questions about G-d. I was perplexed. While on the one hand, I could instill in him my morals and beliefs, on the other hand I realized that Michael needed a home and a community as much as I did. I couldn’t go back to a church, so I finally decided to try a Synagogue.

As I reflect back on the miles I have gone, I am not sure what took me so long to find Judaism. From the moment (2.5 years ago) that I set foot in a Synagogue, I felt comfortable and a sense of belonging. For the first time in my life, I felt like I fit in. People welcomed my seeking spirit, my need to study and debate and my creative ideas regarding every aspect of life. I finally found a whole group of people like me.

Another amazing discovery was that the moment that I sang the prayers Shalom Rav and Sim Shalom, these prayers were instantly my favorite portion of our prayer service. Well before I knew anything about the meaning of the Hebrew words comprising these prayers for peace, a feeling of serenity, peacefullness, wholeness and healing instantly washed over me bathing my essence in warmth, comfort, and light. I was both amazed and comforted by this.

Singing Sim Shalom and Shalom Rav, made me want those feelings to NEVER end. It felt like I had been searching for so long and had finally come home – to myself, to my community and to G-d. I was no longer a sojourner searching for my place, but I could now embark on becoming a member of something more meaningful and much larger than myself. And as I study the meaning of the Sim Shalom prayer, I am awestruck - that before I knew the meaning of the words in my mind, I knew them in my heart.

I soon discovered that other prayers made me feel the same feeling of being open, joyful and whole. So I began to ponder why the prayers made me feel this way.

A year ago, I happened to have received a number of Judaica books from a friend. Among these books was “The Wisdom in the Hebrew Alphabet” by Michael L. Munk. This book explains that a Kabbalistic dictum likens Hebrew letters to human beings and claims that each letter has a body, spirit and soul. The Sefer Yetzirah, (known by Kabbalists as “The Book of Creation,” which has been ascribed to the Patriarch Abraham) asserts that the 22 Hebrew letters “gave everything that is, form and shape.” It goes further to say that “G-d made the soul of all that which has been created and all of that which will be” with these 22 letters. In Genesis G-d began creation with speaking words and reality came into being.

According to ‘The Wisdom in the Hebrew Alphabet,” “the 22 sacred letters are profound, primal, spiritual forces. They are in effect, the raw material of Creation. When G-d combined them into words, phrases, and commands, they brought about Creation.”

Whether or not Hebrew is really an Alphabet that is “alive” as this book suggests, I feel life-giving energy pour into my body when I speak or recite Hebrew prayers. And the benefits cannot be because I understand the language - since I don’t. Rather I believe that there is some merit to the idea that Hebrew letters possess a kind of spirit in them.

Because of the feeling I get when reading the prayers, I am committed to saying daily prayers in the morning and the evening. On the few occasions that I have forgotten my prayers in the morning, I find that my day does not start as well. When I recite my daily prayers, I feel a direct connection to G-d and ultimately to myself.

The other thing that I began to notice, in studying Judaism, was that it teaches integration all of the, body, mind and daily life together - including how we manage our business affairs. All my life, I’ve looked for the world around me to resonate with the things I hold to be true in my inner world (i.e. being a good person, following G-ds commandments, treating my fellow man with honesty and fairness, being positive, contributing to a better world, to name a few). I have always wished for these things to be a reality in the world but never thought that there would be a people who taught in great detail how to practice these things, until I found Judaism.

In the book “With all Your Possessions” by Meir Tamari, “Judaism does not propose a specific economic theory or system, rather, it proposes a moral-religious framework within which the theory or system must operate.” Decisions on investments and in other parts of economic life have to be made on the basis of some form of criteria, then contrasted to this religious framework in order to discover whether or not the proposed choices are acceptable. Tamari also goes on to explain that Jewish moral and religious principles have created a framework within which Jews have operated economically and can continue to operate and they have been practiced for centuries. As I learn more about Judaism’s history, I can see how this moral-religious framework continues to be valid throughout the millennia and as such, I have come to appreciate the Jewish way of life even more.

Tamari demonstrates how Jews have made personal and public policy decisions based on parts of the Jewish halakhic moral code. He uses concrete examples as early as the story of Ruth (in the Bible) through the time of Talmudic scholars and on to Israel’s modern secular society and demonstrates how Jews have combined free market practices with social welfare, competition and compassion based on this ancient Jewish moral code.

Part of the beauty of Judaism is that it has never been satisfied merely with the adoption of pious slogans or exhortations to be righteous, but it has translated the halakhah into concrete, daily actions. These actions have resulted in a large body of knowledge which illustrates a complex system of money, trade, banking, wages, profits, poverty, welfare, competition, taxation and interest.

This integration of the Jewish body, mind and daily life is the closest thing I have found to practicing fairness and goodness in the world. And I am so happy to have found Judaism.

Now my foundation building, by becoming Jewish, is complete and now the journey of building the rest of my life within Judaism is beginning. I am a life-long learner and am delighted to have found a system which proports my values and beliefs and from which I can learn indefinitely. But just as Jews wandered in the wilderness for 40 years, I have done my own wandering and it has taken me literally a lifetime to finally discover my home.

Summary
In my “Journey to wholeness” all parts of me are becoming more and more connected and whole:

I am enjoying the tradition of learning in Judaism as Torah study is leading me to a greater understanding of the world and of myself.
I am grounded in Tikun Olam - making the world a better place - and I’m reveling being in the company of others who share this same vision.
Hebrew study and recitation seems to ‘open’ me up and connects me to thousands of years of tradition. I find great pleasure in reading Hebrew. It feels similar to, but more intense than the feeling I get when I see a beautiful sunset or hear a beautiful piece of music. By reciting Hebrew, I feel like my soul is a rose bud unfolding into full bloom and fragrance. Even if I don’t fully understand what I’m reading, I feel refreshed, more open and alive. It’s almost like the feeling of falling in love. I have this sensation every time I pray.

Finding Judaism has been a long journey and as I complete becoming Jewish, I look forward to a lifetime of learning, making connections and contributing to my new community and friends. I can’t say that I am completely whole – rather every day is a journey to becoming whole. To me, becoming Jewish is not a destination but a milestone on my path to wholeness and to fulfilling the promises (becoming a better person, and to work towards a brighter future) that I made a long time ago, literally in a different space and time. I choose to be Jewish.

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Reform Prayer and Messianic Concepts

11/13/2015

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Rabbi Larry Milder of Beth Emek a Reform synagogue in Pleasanton shared these thoughts about the new Reform High Holiday prayer book. Of particular importance is his explanation of the concept of Messiah and a Messianic age as Jews view these ideas.

One of the hallmarks of Reform Judaism has been its creativity, its willingness to revise traditional prayer language to better express our beliefs. Judaism is an evolving faith, and it is no surprise that sometimes our beliefs differ from the language of prayers spoken by our ancestors.

And yet, creativity is not unidirectional. Sometimes, old words speak to us in new ways. We find that they resonate with us, not necessarily the way they did with our ancestors, but powerfully, nonetheless.

Mishkan Hanefesh, the new Reform High Holy Day prayer book, restores traditional language in a number of places. One of the most interesting of these is messianic language.

We Jews have a hard time with messianic language. We have difficulty distinguishing it from Christian concepts of the messiah. Of course, Christianity originally got those concepts from Judaism, and though they took on an entirely unique form in Christian belief, the hope for a messianic age is intrinsic to the teachings of the Prophets.

Messianism emerges during the Babylonian Exile in the 6th century BCE. It was a hope for restoration to the land of Israel, the ingathering of the exiles, and a return to political sovereignty. The symbol of political sovereignty, self-rule, was that we would be governed by our own king, and not a foreign king. To the Jews in exile, that meant a rightful descendant of King David, whose dynasty was the last vestige of political autonomy.

Messianism was not understood by the prophets as something supernatural, but rather as something quite this-worldly. The heir to the throne of David was always meant to be a real live person, not a supernatural being. Nor did the prophets envision resurrection of the dead when the messiah returned to the throne; they envisioned resurrection of the nation.

Leap forward to the 19th century and the early Reform movement. The notion of being ruled by a king was as far from their sense of modern democratic society as one could imagine. Nor did the early Reformers particularly desire an "ingathering of the exiles;" they preferred achieving civil rights and justice in the lands in which they resided.

As a result, all the language about the messiah was removed from previous editions of Reform prayer books. It just didn't speak to their world view.

Leap forward again to the 21st century. Mishkan Tefilah restores messianic language in several places you might not notice. Early Reformers took the literal meaning of prayer language seriously. In this post-modern age, we are much more inclined to read prayer language as evocative, a poetic expression of our deepest longings. If ancient words give those longings form, it does not mean that we consider ourselves bound by their literal meaning.

Take, for example, these words from the Amidah for Yom Kippur: "May the sparks of David, Your servant, soon grow bright enough for us to see-a beam of light in the darkness, a promise of perfection." Traditional words, "the sparks of David, Your servant," yet the hope is not for a return to monarchy, but rather that the world might be set right again, its current broken state repaired.

Similarly, the traditional words of the closing hymn Yigdal have been restored: "Yishlach l'keitz yamin m'shicheinu," "At the End of Days there will come an era of redemption; for those who await deliverance, a messianic age."

Judaism is a religion that looks forward to the future, that believes in the possibility of redemption for the world. Were it not for that belief, our good deeds would not amount to anything. It is our commitment to moving the world toward the messianic age that is one of the powerful themes of these High Holy Days.

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A little History on Conversion Guidelines in the Reform Movement

1/7/2015

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We found an article from the NY Times dated June 28, 2001 that describes the Reform rabbis voting to adopt new guidelines on conversion. Thought others might be interested in a look back.

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New Question: I see Conservative and Orthodox Jewish people around me. If I convert will my life change even if I have a Reform conversion?

1/18/2012

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A reader posed this question and we sent it to our email list. Here are some answers.

Answer #1: What changed the most is that I am now part of something much larger than myself: I am part of the Jewish People, for better and for worse. Honestly, nearly everything about my life changed, but not all at once. I am the same person I was before but my relationship to most of my world has changed dramatically.

Conversion to Judaism was like finding a lost part of myself, and it took time for all the pieces to come together -- really, they are still coming together, because Judaism well lived is a lifetime journey. Sure, my eating habits changed and my Saturdays are different, but the deeper changes came in the ways I relate to other people and even to myself.
Periodically something I read or a sermon I hear will cause me to examine the way in which I live a certain mitzvah. For instance, after hearing a sermon I decided that I needed to take better care of my body, which led to changes in my eating and exercise. I am a "conflict avoider" but I know I am commanded to make peace -- genuine peace, not fake peace! -- so I am much more likely to deal with problems than in the past.
I worry about different things: I am very careful not to embarrass anyone. That was not on my radar twenty years ago!  All these changes have made me a happier person. I knew I wanted to be a Jew; I did not realize, going in, how much it would challenge me and how rewarding the changes would be.
I have received much, much more than I have given up, but in truth, there are some things that will always be a bit of an effort for me. (I miss pork -- ridiculous but true.)

However, I've never been sorry that I came home to Judaism, not for a moment.

Answer #2: I would say to this woman very seriously that her life will change no more and no less than she wants it to. Becoming Jewish is like coming home - it's not a matter of pushing yourself to look like someone else, it's a matter of growing so that you can look like *you*, so you can find that sweet spot where you are the person you know you were meant to be. I find that idea makes the superficial outside changes (will I keep kosher, will I cover my hair, what-have-you), so much less scary. Because *you* are in control, it's not change being forced on you. And it's not an on-off switch, your life can look as different or as similar as you want, and each day you can choose something new.

Answer #3: Since my conversion and bar mitzvah, my life has changed in several ways. I find myself thinking as if I have always been Jewish. I may not have the cultural experiences that born Jews have, but my soul seems Jewish to me. When I read passages from Torah, the stories are from my family history. Sarah is my mother. Abraham is my father. Israel is my home. I feel intimately connected to the stories. Before my conversion, I was a "ger". A stranger on the outside looking in. Also, when I look at life, I look at it from a Jewish perspective. "Oy" is an essential part of my personal vocabulary.

        In my daily life, I attempt to keep as kosher as my life situation allows. I don't eat meat (from mammals) with dairy and I use separate plates when eating dairy. I find myself looking at what I eat and consciously deciding if it is "fit" for my consumption. I tend to lean towards the "eco-kosher" movement. Not only do I want to avoid eating things Torah doesn't permit, I want to support agricultural systems that are sustainable and humane.

        Since my bar mitzvah, I have taken to wearing a kippah all the time--even at work. This has been the biggest impact in my life. It identifies me publicly as a Jew and thus makes me more conscious of my conduct. I want my actions to reflect positively upon the community. One wonderful thing about being visibly Jewish is that it invites curious people to learn about Judaism and its people. I see those invitations to be teachable moments where misunderstandings can be cleared up and people's horizons to be broadened. Even in my own family, my relatives ask questions about what it means to me to be Jewish. I wouldn't say that I'm perfectly Jewish, but I'm working on it.

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