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!