Reframing

I had a long talk with one of our rabbis the other day, the upshot of which is that she's going to help reconnect me with the rabbi with whom I'm really supposed to be working, so that's all good.

In the course of our rambling (due entirely to me) conversation, I mentioned how I often feel like I really have no right to claim Judaism because the Jewish story is not my story. Her take on it is that, other than blood family, nobody starts out in a community; we develop our own communities and enter others through conversation and shared experience. She likened converting to Judaism to becoming part of another person's family through marriage; one's spouse's family's stories become part of one's own story over time. That clarified a lot for me right there.

She also asked how it would be if I converted and continued to have doubts. I told her it would be pretty much like the rest of my life and I could live with that.

Afterwards, I was thinking about that some more, and I realized that I don't particularly trust anyone who has never had a doubt or a question about their religion. That way lies fanaticism, bigotry and worse.

This goes, of course, for many, if not all, aspects of life other than religion, which can be a frustrating way to live at times. One of our other rabbis once spoke about living in the doubt and how energizing he finds that. Sometimes I believe him, but sometimes, I just want to be sure. So I pick a few small things to be sure about (e.g. I like cats; I don't like coconut) so I can handle living in the doubt about the big things.

Another Plaut quote

"Mutations in the realm of the spiritual seem to have occurred frequently in human experience, and the biblical record should be read in part as the record of such mutations."

Jews...are mutants? Hm.

So much to post about...

...so little time. I want to write about the High Holy Days and more, but for now, I'd like to mention that I've determined to at least read the weekly parasha. I do go to Torah study just about every week, but I haven't really read the whole thing myself on any regular basis. Our congregation reads the Torah on a yearly cycle, so having just finished Simchat Torah, it seemed like a logical time to start. I intend to read the entire Tanakh, but I'm not sure that's going to be this year.

The new Plaut commentary works well for me because it places the Haftarah portion immediately after the Torah portion. It also is bound to be read right to left, which I like, only the copies we use in Torah study are the older edition, which are intended to be read left to right, so now that I'm doing some studying at home, I keep turning to the back of the old edition to find Genesis, which isn't working so well.

Anyway, I'm already two weeks behind because I insist upon reading the introductory material, so I haven't actually gotten to the Torah part of the Torah commentary yet. So here are a couple of quotes I liked:

"History neither confirms or denies religious commitment. Acknowledging that Martin Luther was a historical figure does not make us Lutherans; denying the historicity of Moses does not preclude our fervor as Jews." Plaut, "The Torah and the Jewish People", The Torah: A Modern Commentary, p. li.

"Though the Torah contains chapters that are, at most, of historical interest only, it also contains much that is relevant and vital today. If it sometimes expresses moral judgments we have discarded as unsatisfactory, it also challenges us with ideals we are far from having attained. Moreover, for us as for our ancestors, the line between written and oral Torah cannot be drawn over-sharply. We too read the text in the light of the experiences and associations that have become attached to it. Every great classic suggests or reveals new insights to each succeeding generation. And the Torah is the classic of classics." ibid.

(Although I can't read the last line without getting "Wonder of wonders, miracle of miracles..." stuck in my head.)

Selichot

The other night, our synagogue held a beautiful Selichot service, after a discussion of Mussar.

One of our rabbis mentioned that the Selichot service there used to begin at midnight, because Jewish tradition (according to this rabbi) held that midnight, along with dawn and dusk, was one of the three liminal times of day, the times at which change is most possible.

That thought reminded me of a friend from times past who believed that in the light of dusk, you could come close to seeing a person's true self with the physical eye.

I hope I'm missing something

Our rabbis are making very sure we all know that the High Holy Days are just about here. I'm looking forward to the Selichot service this Saturday evening.

I was exploring some other Judaism-focused personal blogs last week, and I found one in which a couple of years ago, the author posted something like "This is to ask forgiveness of anyone I may have wronged, purposely or accidentally, in the past year".

I am assuming that this post was in addition to, not instead of, the face-to-face requests for forgiveness from those we've wronged. In a way, I like it, because I'm always afraid I've wronged people without realizing it...in fact, I'm sure I have, as we all do...and I can't seek reconciliation without knowing with whom I'm supposed to reconcile. But something about the blanket nature of such a post seems to go against the soul-searching that I think the Days of Awe are supposed to involve.

Was there a pre-Internet equivalent of a blog post like that?

This has nothing to do with Judaism

But it does have to do with religion, and I thought it was pretty cool.

Congregation embraces transgender minister as his secret is revealed

Also, I was wondering why my sideboard ads are all for books, funerals and weddings...oh.

In the absence of family ties

I found out the other day that one of my cousins, of my father's generation, was killed in a car accident. I barely remember her, but finding that out stirred up all sorts of emotions other than grief.

My immediate biological family consists of my parents and me, full stop. For whatever reason, growing up I spent more time with my mother's side than my father's side (I suspect it was in part due to the fact that my mother's parents were alive when I was born, while my father's parents were not), but I'm not in direct contact with anybody on either side; all communication comes through my parents.

Well, I have an aunt and a cousin Facebooked, but I don't think that quite counts.

Anyway, I've been thinking a lot about l'dor vador, the importance in Judaism of passing tradition and belief from generation to generation, and I feel like C and I will be starting from the very beginning...C, while a born Jew, didn't grow up observant and I grew up agnostic, and the only childhood traditions I have are secular Christian (e.g. Santa and the Easter Bunny).

I know it's all part of the journey, but sometimes the road seems very steep and empty.

Chosenness

We've been talking in Torah study about the concept of the Jews being God's chosen people and the way in which that tends to not sit so well with many Reform Jews.

Our cantor brought us this midrash from Parashat Hashavua:

Other rabbinic commentators, however, define the relationship [between God and the Israelites] as one of mutual desperation. God and Israel treasure each other and love each other because they cannot do otherwise. These interpreters argue that at precisely the time Israel is wandering in the wilderness, God is searching for a people to accept the Torah. Each of the great nations of the world is asked if it will take the Torah, and each refuses, saying that the Torah's teachings are not suitable or compatible with its beliefs and culture. Finally, say these rabbis, God sees the tattered and desperate Israelites making their way across the wilderness. Lifting Mount Sinai over their heads, God asks threateningly, "Will you accept my Torah or be buried by this mountain?" Seeing that they have no choice if they wish to live, the Israelites respond: "It is a tree of life to all who grasp it. . ." (Proverbs 3:18)

For these rabbis, the Israelites choose life by choosing the Torah. It is a desperate choice of a desperate people singled out by a desperate God. God requires an am s'gulah, a "treasured people", not for special favors, but for a special burden. They are to be responsible for carrying the Torah and its commandments into the world. The survival of the world and all within it depends upon the truths of Torah and the loyalty of those who carry out its ethical and ritual commandments. Israel is beloved by God when it chooses to be God's partner and when it lives by Torah. To the extent that they "choose" to live by the commandments they guarantee their survival. (Midrash B'midbar Rabbah 14.10; Talmud Avodah Zarah 2b-3a)

*****

Perhaps one thing that's holding me back is that, besides being uncomfortable with the Jews being considered a "chosen people" and the knowledge of the problems that has historically caused, I'm still not sure that about the idea of opting in to a chosen people. Of course, I know converts are considered as Jewish as any other Jew (and here I will not get into the differences between movements on the subject), but I do vacillate between "if I were supposed to be Jewish, wouldn't I have been born that way" and "I know born Jews who have never been to a synagogue and who eat bacon cheeseburgers when they're off work on Saturday, which is all fine, hooray for free will, but why are they Jewish and I, who have been studying and attending services and observing most of the festivals (we still ain't made up our minds about Shavuot) not?"

(Yes, I know it's because I haven't been to the mikveh. That's not the point right now.)

Britney's Conversion Diary

And perhaps I shouldn't find this as funny as I do...but I do.

Change of plans

So yes, I started this blog over a year ago in order to document my conversion process.

Said process is currently on hiatus due to what I believe is a misunderstanding between my sponsoring rabbi and me as to a certain aspect of converting, as well as the need to finish a large project that has a fast-approaching deadline.

In short-term hindsight, I'm rather glad that I didn't follow through with my original intention, because, if anybody actually read this, there might be awkward questions with which to deal, and we just can't have that.

But I haven't given up on the idea of blogging about my experience of Judaism, and I certainly don't intend to give up on anything called "Death and Wine."

I'm still attending Torah study at our synagogue fairly regularly, and I'm still reading plenty and learning constantly, so I'm intending for this blog to document my Jewish journey, and the conversion portion will happen when it does.

To that end, I finally saw the 1971 movie of Fiddler on the Roof. (Nowhere did I say this would consist only of deep and meaningful posts, did I now?) Loved it, found it interesting that all the songs everyone knows are in the first act, with the second act taking a turn for the depressing-yet-ultimately-hopeful, and mildly surprised to learn that there isn't actually a song called "Fiddler on the Roof", even though one appears in the book of vocal selections.

C was distressed to find that Topol has a first name and refused to let me say what it is. C should therefore not click through to the cast page for the touring production. The tour is Coming To A Theatre Near Us at some point, and I really want to see it live.

L'chaim!