Christmas tree? Chanukah bush?

This article discusses how battle lines of assimilation have been drawn around the Christmas tree; should interfaith households have one or not?

C was kind enough to let me have a tree the first year we lived together, when converting wasn't on my radar yet. Since then, we haven't had one. I missed it at first, but we now have a Chanukah mantle, a photo of which I apparently have not yet uploaded onto the computer. It's all full of menorahs and dreidels and a banner we found at the Christmas Tree Shop, of all places. It's better than a tree because 1) we don't have to water it [and watch the cats drink from the basin], 2) it doesn't shed needles, 3) we don't have to drag it up and down three flights of narrow twisty stairs, and 4) we don't have to spend hours making sure no ornaments or lights are stuck in it when taking it down. Festive without the cleanup, it's a win-win!

The course of true equality never has run smooth

This article, written by the mother of four grown sons, one of whom is gay, describes her reaction to the Conservative movement's stance on LGBT members and clergy. Although the article is five years old, I was surprised to find that reparative therapy, long since debunked (i.e. "pray away the gay") was even on the table. I was less surprised to find that, while LGBT folks could be ordained, they were not allowed to engage in sexual relations with members of the same sex. Though I'm not a parent, my reactions were very similar to those of the author.

As much as I like our large Reform synagogue for many reasons, it's still very white, middle- to upper-class, Ashkenazi and hetero-couples-with-kids oriented. There is absolutely the intention to be accepting of all people, but I've seen lesbian couples asked if they're sisters (or mother and daughter, when the age difference is nowhere near that wide), unsure reactions to transwomen and complete bafflement when discovering that someone is a transman.

I cannot presume to say how Judaism should be. I can say how I would prefer it to be, and that is with the recognition that diversity within our people is something to be not merely tolerated, but celebrated.

(I've been reading bits of things here and there about the ongoing struggles of Sephardic, Ethiopian and Mizrahi Jews, in Israel and elsewhere. I converted into the Ashkenazic tradition, and I wish the Introduction to Judaism class had included more information about other Jews. There's probably a whole 'nother series of posts I could write, but I need to learn a lot more first. I can, however, say that I believe that no group who excludes these and any other traditions, whether or not it's intentional, can call itself truly inclusive.)

I'm not sure why

I have come to the conclusion that, while I am completely comfortable calling myself Jewish, I am not comfortable referring to myself as "a Jew". I don't know why this is. I mean, I'm sure it's because I'm a convert, and maybe I think that while anybody can become Jewish, only those born into it are Jews.

I think this probably doesn't make sense.

Believing in Child Labor, Sweatshops and Torture

For whatever reason, a lot of Christian-oriented blogs are coming across my radar lately, but it's not as though Jews have a monopoly on social justice.

This post discusses how the ways in which we act may or may not accurately reflect what we think we believe. That's a rather convoluted sentence (for a rather convoluted concept), so here's an excerpt:

"Take the example of buying chocolate from a corner shop. If I know, or suspect, that the chocolate is made from coco beans picked by children under the conditions of slavery then, regardless of what I say, I believe in child slavery."

Of course, it's not that simple. It's worth reading through the comments as well for a variety of perspectives.

Breaking up with God

I found this piece over on Huffington Post very interesting. It's written by a woman who throughout her life has struggled with her relationship with G-d, even hearing a calling to become an Episcopal priest. As of her writing this post, she and G-d are no longer together.

My relationship with and opinion of G-d has always been ambivalent. I'm grateful that my sponsoring rabbi specifically said that belief in G-d wasn't a requirement of conversion. Sometimes I long for the security of a firm belief in a deity with specific characteristics, but then I remember that that way lies fundamentalism in its unpleasant sense, and I don't want to go there.

Is G-d required for democracy?

At a graduation I attended recently, the keynote speaker suggested that, in societies where most people follow all of the laws all of the time, human societal obedience is based on a fear of punishment. This punishment can come from either a human dictator or G-d. He further suggested that, in order for democracy as we understand it to work, the society must be predicated on the latter, even if that society has drifted (for better or worse) from its faith-based roots, e.g. the United States.

He further posited that dictator-based societies upon which democracy is imposed from the outside tend to break down rapidly. He used Haiti as an example of this; ousting the Duvaliers, as bad as they were, did nothing for Haiti's political stability, and the country still struggles today.

This is, of course, a simplification of what he said, which must in and of itself be a simplification of the concept; I'm sure tomes could be written about this, but he had to fit it into a small part of a graduation speech. A quick Internet search does not reveal that he's written about this, but I'll see if I can't find something more in-depth later.

Making a Jew

I've now been a Jew for both a Jewish and a Gregorian calendar cycle. I've found it most interesting, although very difficult to put into words, how much of a difference the conversion ceremony made in my experience. It broke down the last wall that I hadn't even realized was there, and now any residual discomfort I may have felt as a "not-quite-a-Jew" is totally gone. I had none of my previous December anxiety (which I thought I'd written about, but I don't see it. Maybe I wrote it somewhere else), was comfortable enough to host our seder (albeit in a nervous way) and no longer feel the need to qualify my Jewishness with "by choice".

Unless somebody asks, and then I'm also completely comfortable discussing my journey without feeling defensive or like I have to prove that I'm sufficiently Jewish to claim the word.

(I've been asked twice "You're Jewish? I thought you were Irish" (meaning Irish Catholic). By the same person. Who is Jewish. I really like this person, and I do have Irish heritage, but twice?)

I found this article, entitled "How We Make A Jew", while looking for something else. My own mikveh experience was very similar to this and was immediately followed by a conversion ceremony at the synagogue and then Qabbalat Shabbat services. And then a festive oneg at our favorite bar-and-grill.

I felt so blessed then by the warmth and acceptance I received, and that blessed feeling has continued ever since.