Things to read and think about

A controversial ad campaign on buses in Seattle and new settlements in the West Bank.

New name, new game

Thanks to the lovely Genessa for providing the absolutely inspired new name for my blog.  I think it fits, don't you?

Tonight we went to Chochmat HaLev, a renewal temple right here in Berkeley, for Shabbat services.  It was just what I needed - plenty of singing and clapping and dancing, coupled with a reflective service and even a "blessing booth," which I took full advantage of.  The cosmos are with me apparently, and I'm starting to believe it.  Shabbat shalom!

Okay, so we broke up.

Ilan and I have broken up, which may call into question the existence of this blog.  I'm thinking of changing it to My (Almost) Jewish Life or something similar, to follow my continuing Jewish practice (still as a non-Jew) now that I'm single.  I may even explore how facets of Judaism help me to get through the break up and keep my eyes optimistically on the future.  I hope that this space will continue to be a resource for non-Jews practicing Judaism, whether they're in interfaith relationships or not.  In the meantime, I may not post for a bit and certainly need to change the header image so I don't give myself any nervous breakdowns!

Until next post. . .

Can I interest you in Hanukkah?

From A Colbert Christmas, Jon tries to interest Stephen in Hanukkah which lasts for "seven - for you? - eight nights." I'm sold! (Thanks to Genessa for sharing.)

The Colbert Report	Mon - Thurs 11:30pm / 10:30c
A Colbert Christmas: Jon Stewart
http://www.colbertnation.com/
Colbert Report Full Episodes Political Humor & Satire Blog</a> March to Keep Fear Alive

The Review: Exit Wounds

I had heard a lot of wonderful things about Exit Wounds by Rutu Modan before I bought it. Actually, I think most of the wonderful things I heard were actually READ on the back cover of the book. But, anyway. . . Finally I found it on mega-sale at a used book store and figured, why not?

First, the pictures are totally wonderful and gorgeous. Comparisons by The New York Times Book Review to the style of Tintin are well founded. But, for me, the story left a lot to be desired. In a nutshell:
(1) girl stalks boy for mysterious reason,
(2) boy finds out from girl that (his) long-estranged father may have been killed in a recent bombing,
(3) boy discovers girl had intimate relationship with boy's father,
(4) boy mostly can't stand girl and is mean to her,
(5) girl keeps coming back for more,
(6) boy and girl inexplicably have sex,
(7) boy does some jerky thing to get girl to finally leave,
(8) boy desperately seeks to rekindle tenuous relationship with girl.

Oh, and we never really know what happened to the boy's father, anyway.

Entertainment Weekly called this, "a triumphant book about not-so-quiet desperation," but I don't think the story was nuanced enough to earn such praise. We just don't know enough about the characters to care what happens to them, and so are left disappointed in the end - wanting more, but also a bit bored.

More positively, I just got a free copy of Guilt & Pleasure magazine from, er, summer 2007 (before Exit Wounds came out) and it features a short strip by Rutu Modan that I really like, actually, called "Energy Blockage." Also, G&P is such an awesome magazine. I'm only 22 pages in, and I'm totally hooked.

The Review: How To Understand Israel in 60 Days Or Less

In the time I had allotted to read How To Understand Israel in 60 Days Or Less by Sarah Glidden, I was also able to read Exit Wounds by Rutu Modan. (There's another great reason to love graphic novels. I get the feeling of accomplishment that comes with completing a book FAR more often.) More on Exit Wounds in a future post.

I liked How To Understand Israel. Instead of reading a comprehensive history of the Israeli-Palestinian conflict, it gave me a sense of what specific topics I might be interested in learning more about. Now I want to find a biography of Yitzhak Rabin. Or something on the Six Days War (especially those last few days with Syria). Put another way, I no longer have to commit myself to a feast of reading. I have the knowledge to more carefully select a few appetizers and then see how hungry I remain.

Glidden is convinced that she'll be fed all sorts of pro-Israel propaganda on her Birthright trip, and steels herself with a lengthy and seemingly balanced book list prior to leaving. Ultimately, she experiences plenty of the propaganda she expected to, as well as Israelis who equate sympathies with Palestianians with national (and, oftentimes, personal) certain death. But she's surprised by the number of people who, like her, just don't know what to think or do. If the status quo feels unbearable, and solutions impossible, then. . . What next?

In doing follow up research on some of the topics covered in the book, I've been concerned at the degree to which certain historic events are simplified. (The aforementioned fighting between Syria and Israel during the Six Days War is a great example of this.) However, I think this represents more a challenge with the medium than an intentional bias on the part of the author. I'm a bit surprised that someone who pored through some of the weighty books she did would be comfortable with much of this glossing over, but perhaps, especially when writing a graphic novel on such a controversial topic, the good cannot be the enemy of the perfect.

So, the final verdict? If you know very little about the conflict and want something to whet your appetite, definitely pick up How To Understand Israel. If you already consider yourself well versed in the issues and historic timeline, however, you may be disappointed.

I'm about to start reading. And looking.

A while back, I posted on this blog for book recommendations on the Israeli/Palestinian conflict and a few folks chimed in with thoughts. Did I read anything people suggested? No, of course not. These days, my brain refuses to handle anything but great fiction (Freedom!) or graphic novels. That's why I was super pumped to hear about Sarah Glidden's new How to Understand Israel In 60 Days Or Less. In words - and PICTURES - she talks about her preconceptions as a progressive Jew embarking on a Birthright trip, and how her expectations were and weren't met once she was there. I'll post a book review when I've gotten through it.

In unrelated news, my parents got me a record player for my birthday and, in addition to the many records I inherited from their existing collections, I also went and picked up some new ones last night at Amoeba in Berkeley. Among the new favorites is the soundtrack to T.C.B. featuring Diana Ross and the Supremes with the Temptations. It's so great, and ALSO they refer quite frequently to people who are "T.C.B." - taking care of business. I'm going to start slipping that into everyday speech and see what happens. I encourage you to do the same and get in on the ground floor before the trend catches on.

What was the AJWS thinking?

There's this new video on funnyordie.com in which tons (tons!) of celebrities crack jokes in support of the American Jewish World Service. Despite the fact that the spot was clearly created by AJWS, they not so cleverly avoid taking responsibility for some of the racy, offensive content of the piece by saying at the beginning of the video that they "don't approve this message." Clearly, they do. And not owning up to their own attempts at edgy, youthful advertising just makes them look like, um. . . the opposite of edgy and youthful. (And, as the apparent intended audience for the ad, I should know.)

Hey, AJWS! If you're going to waste my time with Sarah Silverman spouting off the same tired racist stereotypes (Jews are cheap! Asians are good at math!), at least have the guts to own it. Also, that's not funny. Yawn.

Anyway, if you like looking at Andy Samberg as much as I do, you'll still enjoy the clip. Check it.

Shana Tovah! It's gonna cost you.

Ilan and I have attended services at Beth El probably two or three times. (In other words, more than we have services at any other temple.) I liked High Holidays there last year, when I think we paid $50/ticket and got to attend one service each for Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur. We bought the tickets through a coalition of East Bay congregations that allowed the more timid among us to dip our toes in the waters of a few different places. Options ranged from the sedate and comfortable (Beth El) to the clappy and dancey (Chochmat Halev).

Okay, anyway, I couldn't find those great $50 tickets this year, so I emailed Beth El directly to see about tickets and they cost $250 PER PERSON. Is that craziness? If Ilan and I pay the full amount, we will have purchased membership, anyway. But we're not going to do that. We're going to offer $100 or $150 for both of us, see if they accept that donation, and take it from there. I know Beth El has to pay for a whole slew of construction projects they completed a while ago, and I'm sure they're not the only ones charging this amount (or more), but I'm still a little shocked at the ticket price for these tickets! Don't they know I have a cat to feed?

Dude, Chelsea Clinton's husband is totally Jewish. Does anyone care?

Chelsea Clinton, a Methodist, and Marc Mezvinsky, a Jew, were recently married. Does anyone care that their marriage is interfaith? It seems easier to find articles that reference media attention to this controversy rather than the articles that actually call their marriage controversial. Has Chelsea successfully dodged an age old bullet? And, if so, how did her handlers and PR team make that happen? Or does the rule that says that Jewish men must marry Jewish women include an exception for brides-to-be who are the daughters of former US presidents? And does my distant ancestral relationship to Myles Standish count for anything?

Also, this piece on Jewcy is. . . okay. Maybe I just like it because I've never heard of the "Buttinskys." They sound fun.

What to make of Israeli raid in the Mediterranean?

A flotilla attempting to bring aid (food, etc.) to Gaza was intercepted by Israeli military forces and nine pro-Palestinian activists (mostly Turks) were killed. (Read the New York Times article here.) Apparently, Israel warned the flotilla that they would be intercepted if they continued - the harbor has been closed since a 2007 blockade enacted by Israel. But for those interested in keeping the Palestinian side of this struggle alive on the world stage, doesn't it make sense that the flotilla would push ahead, hoping to force Israel's hand one way or another?

In my mind, there seem to have been three options for the flotilla: (1) keep going, hoping that Israel would resist taking military action and that the flotilla would safely dock, thereby ending the blockade; (2) keep going, knowing that if Israel DID take military action, they would face international scrutiny; or (3) attempt to get aid to Palestinians through Israel-approved channels but without any international media attention for the Palestinian cause. And you know that saying, "Give a man a fish, feed him for a day. Teach a man to fish, feed him for a lifetime"? Well, I understand that option 3 is, quite literally, like giving the fish, right? But options 1 and 2 could lead to something more sustainable from a Palestinian perspective - renewed support for the Palestinian cause and a possible (if very unlikely) end to the blockade.

And then you have Israel's options in this scenario: (1) allow the flotilla to dock, thereby rendering their laws and restrictions moot; or (2) take military action to intercept the flotilla, knowing that such an interception - even if initially intended to be peaceful - probably won't be and, in any case, will lead to negative international attention and an escalated conflict. Sounds like a classic case of having to choose between two evils.

Add to this complicated scenario the fact that none of us know what really happened when Israeli soldiers boarded the flotilla, and we're left mostly where we started. (Where's the cell phone video footage, huh?) Those who already sided with Israel will continue to do so, and those who already sided with Palestinians will also - both sides probably with more zeal than before this incident.

As ever, nobody wins.

Is Ruth an exceptional convert? Or something to which all converts should aspire?

I was just reading this article from InterFaithways about Ruth, who is held up as the "perfect convert" in the Torah. The article explains Ruth's story - how she converted to Judaism and married a Jew and how, when her husband dies, Ruth follows his mother to Bethlehem to start a new life with her. The article also points out that Ruth's history (as with most women in the Torah) is unknown and not explained, and that it appears that she breaks with her past completely when she adopts Judaism and, in turn, the family of her husband.

Is this the expectation of a perfect convert nowadays? I think it is reasonable to expect a Jewish convert to sever all ties with her former religion, but what to do about relationships with the family that still practices that religion? And how to celebrate religious holidays with that family? I feel fortunate not to come from a very religious family, and I don't think I would feel conflicted about celebrating Hanukkah in my home as a spiritual holiday while retaining Christmas at my parents' house as the secular holiday it's always been to me. But I wonder if it's difficult to find a Jewish community that really accepts as Jewish a woman who wasn't raised Jewish and who would not renounce her family to follow new relatives to Bethlehem. (If I had in-laws relocating to Paris or Tahiti, well. . . ) (Just joking, Mom!)

Israel?

Because I admittedly don't know as much about it as I should, and because it's such a polarizing topic, I typically avoid any mention of Israel both in this blog and in my daily life. And that's just irresponsible. Knowing that my non-Jewish friends take a pretty anti-Israel stance, and that I usually agree with them in political matters, I've adopted an ignorance is bliss attitude. I don't want to fight! Can't we all just get along? Clearly, we can't.

So I want to read a book. Or two books, even. It seems there aren't any out there that take an objective stance, perhaps because objectivity is impossible. So instead I will read the highly recommended (if a teensy bit outdated) graphic novel Palestine by Joe Sacco. Any recommendations for an engaging pro-Israel book?

Here's to forming educated opinions!

Oh, and the reason this is coming up now is because there was recently an article in the New York Times about how Noam Chomsky and his daughter were denied entry to the Palestinian territories in Israel for a speaking engagement. It raised interesting questions about free speech in a democracy - Is there a difference between speaking one's mind and being "hostile" to the government? Um, yes. The article also connects Mr. Chomsky's border problems to a string of others involving characters from a Spanish performer to an American journalist working for a Palestinian news agency to a UN human rights investigator.

I want to know more! Maybe you do, too?

Ruth Reichl on Binah

Ruth Reichl, former NYT food critique and author of many food-related books, was interviewed on Binah on KALW today. She talked about her mother (who had a fondness for Fluffernutter), the democratization of taste through Yelp, and what it's like to be a relatively down-to-earth person in a world of food snobs. Not specifically Jewish, but she did speak at the Jewish Community Center in San Francisco, is Jewish herself, and. . . there you have it. Good enough for me to post!

Enjoy!

I like this song.

It's like Will.I.Am's "It's a New Day," without being connected to politics or a particular person. I prefer it that way.

Take a listen to Matisyahu's "One Day." See, Ilan? Your music rubs off on me.

The Chavurah gasps, choosing a synagogue

Faithful readers of, um, the one post I've written about the Chavurah will know that we've had a hard time getting that group off the ground. First of all, we're small - just six "childless, twenty-thirtysomethings" from Beth El. Second, we consist of two couples. Third, those members who do not belong to said couples have, so far, been MIA. To remedy what feels like chronic indifference, our fearless leaders, Dan and Jillian, arranged for a potluck at their home to discuss a book we chose as a group, The Girl On the Fridge by Etgar Keret.

Excited to finally get together and have something to discuss, Ilan and I read the book and made celery root soup and donned our finest jeans and t-shirts. . . Only to find ourselves in another double date scenario, without our single Chavurah members. SO, I invited another couple from my Intro to Judaism class to make it a triple date, at the very least. We had a lovely meal and the brief discussion of the book was interesting - it's hard not to have an opinion about a collection of short stories in which characters superglue their bare feet to the ceiling or pull murdered rabbits from magician's hats - but this leaves me wondering. . . Is Beth El, organizing body of our Chavurah, for me?

The first Friday evening service that Ilan and I attended there was "Tot Shabbat," and we were unprepared for the overflow of families with young (screaming) children and singalongs from Camp Kee Tov. (Which isn't to say I don't love children and the idea of Tot Shabbat - it was just a lot to deal with as a first impression.) Subsequent services have yielded few additional "childless, twenty-thirtysomething" attendees, save for the High Holidays when young adults presumably return to their East Bay families from other places. And at the few Saturday Torah study groups I've attended, I have been the youngest by at least ten years. I think that feeling so alone would be a lot for ANYONE to deal with at his or her synagogue, but the additional "otherness" of being a non-Jew feels like a bit too much.

My conclusion? I need to broaden my temple net. My criteria: must be (fairly easily) biked to from Elmwood in Berkeley, must be Reform (or Reconstructionist or Renewal), and must have vibrant - or, at least, existant - community of people at my age and stage in life. Is that too much to ask?

Clearly, I can't worry about writing Life Changing Posts

Okay, so I realize that it is a long time between posts, and I also realize that this is because I feel like each one must be earth shattering and wonderful. (Which of course means that I think all of my posts to this point have been earth shattering and wonderful - deal with it.) I'm going to try to forget that and I hope you'll be understanding when I hit you with some more mediocre posts. Like this one perhaps?

Anyway, since my last post two big things have happened. The first! I celebrated my second Passover ever, this time with my friends Genessa and Karen and about a dozen of their friends. And Ilan, of course. It was really great! Last year was spent at the Persings and I don't recall the haggadah we used, but I imagine it was a good taste of what a family Passover seder looks like. Lots of friends and family around a big table, lots of delicious food, and plenty of back-and-forth about the order of operations and what was worthy of explanation (or not) to the less initiated around the table. (Thinking back, I may have been the only one who needed a lot of explanation, actually.) I really enjoyed it. I love long meals, and Passover provides all of the conversation fodder one might need without the pressure of thinking of things to say oneself. Everybody wins!

This year, Genessa and Karen wrote their own haggadah, using pieces from one that was created at Williams College and another used by Genessa's family growing up. There was a lot of poetry and opportunity for sharing of anecdotes (which shyness prevented most from taking advantage of) and many more besides me who didn't have a lot of experience with Passover. It took a lot of pressure off of me to pronounce anything correctly, which I really appreciated. It all just felt so. . . friendly.

I also enjoyed Passover because I was thinking about the plagues and (wait for it) things I heard recently from an archeologist about how there's a good chance that much of what is said in the Torah can be supported factually. For example, there was a lot of volcanic activity near Egypt in the centuries before and after the plagues would have happened, and that volcanic activity could explain rivers of blood (sediment from eruptions settling in rivers) and even frogs falling from the sky. The Torah is certainly not a historic document like text books are, but it's fun to think of it as an often fictionalized take on real events.

The second big thing that happened since my last post was a Shabbat dinner shared with none other than my Christian parents during their visit here in Oakland. More on that to follow!

Being a Jew vs. performing Judaism

Scene 1: A family prepares for Shabbat on a Friday evening. Special candlesticks are taken out of the cupboard (which also houses ritual objects for holidays), special wine glasses set on the table, and the challah covered. The family recites blessings over each: candle-lighting, wine, and bread. The floor in the adjacent living room is covered with Jewish children's books and toys. Perhaps as they eat, they discuss the weekly Torah portion that they'll be studying at temple the following morning.

Scene 2: Another family on Friday evening. Mom makes dinner with whatever ingredients are found in the refrigerator and when all is prepared, she sends word around the house like a game of telephone. "Dinner's ready." It's unlikely that blessings will be recited - there isn't any challah, anyway. But there will be wine and heated conversation, though not about Torah.

I'll spare you the annoyance of guessing which family is Jewish, as I suspect you know where I'm going with this. Both of these families are based on families I know. The first, a couple and their daughter who Ilan and I met in California, recently invited us over to celebrate Shabbat at their house. The mother and daughter have already converted to Judaism, and the father is well on his way - all drawn to the religion after time spent with Jewish friends who have a belief system and are part of a religious culture that seems to suit this couple better than anything they grew up with. The second family, of course, is Ilan's. They have a Jewish matriarch and all of the children were raised Jewish. Dosage-wise, they've been my model Jewish household for the past two years or so.

Both families are Jewish, either by choice or by birth. But Ilan's family doesn't HAVE to choose. They ARE Jewish. And the first family HAS to choose, because that is exactly what MAKES them Jewish.

I was discussing these two families with my Jewish therapist recently (seriously), and explaining what I've heard already from so many Jews: Converting is great and all, but only born Jews really "get it." My therapist likened conversion, in this sense, to drag, and the more I thought about it, the more I agreed with her. How does one "perform" Judaism? In the same way that my femininity - complete with short hair, a jeans-and-tee-shirt uniform, and often unshaved armpits - is perceived by most to be more "authentic" than the femininity of a born-male in high heels, big hair, and lipstick, why is the Jewishness of a Shabbat-loving convert less authentic than that of a born Jew who may not believe in God and only goes to services on high holidays? Is my vagina that important? Or a bloodline? And can you imagine what a cagefight would look like between my vagina and some symbol for Jewish bloodlines? Feel free to submit artistic interpretations.

I welcome thoughts on if and how it could be possible for a Jewish convert to be Jewish without having to perform. If you're Jewish, is telling people enough to make it so even if you rarely perform the associated rituals? Especially in reform traditions, is being Jewish a "feeling" that you either have or don't have? Is it a personality trait? How can Jewish converts overcome the very real handicap of not being born Jewish? Help!

The more you know...

"The more you know, the more you know you don't know shit."
-Ben Folds

At age sixteen I knew that I was pretty much all set and couldn't get any more knowledgeable when it came to dating and my future. (Let's be serious, though, who doesn't know everything at sixteen?) I've always hung around Jews, growing up in Haifa, Israel, and then emigrating to Brookline, Massachusetts, affectionately known to some as "Baruch-line." My default setting, so to speak, was to be around Jews. To date within the community or the "tribe" came as naturally to me as the guttural sounds of Hebrew or blowing out the Channukkah candles and screaming "Happy Birthday!" at the top of my lungs.

I've heard quotes like "You can't help who you fall in love with." Or "That's just how the Matzah crumbles." I wrote these off since I already knew everything about J-dating. I even had a couple discussions with friends about dating within the tribe, and my philosophy was simple: "If you fish in the salmon pond 100 percent of the time, you can't possibly come up with a barracuda or a swordfish." (Yes, I did once use this analogy in conversation.)

So how did we get to this moment? The one where I am now contributing to a blog created by my non-Jewish girlfriend? This is the 20,000 shekel question. Could it be that a year of intensive Hebrew study and cultural immersion in the Land of Milk and Honey led to a burn out and subsequent need to go to the opposite extreme? Could it be that after 23 years of living as a Jew and approximately 7 years of dating Jews, I needed something completely different in the form of a girl from another world? Could it be that my usual salmon and lox lost it's usual appeal? (All metaphors aside, I just the other day told Rachel that lox were one of the few things I still salivate over now that I eat mostly plants, but that's another story.)

*****

Some of us will always go fishing in the salmon pond and that is that. Some of us may go have a taste of swordfish and say, "Well, that was delicious, but I don't think I'll have that everyday for the next 25 to 60 years." Some of us are pretty indiscriminate about who we date when it comes to religion.

So did I go looking for something new and found it? No, and then yes. When I met Rachel I had zero intention of even going down to the pond that day (okay, metaphor finished), but we found each other anyway. I was skeptical at first of even considering dating someone who wasn't Jewish. I thought, what's the point of dating someone now if I know I'm going to marry someone else later? How can I fully invest myself knowing she's not Jewish? I put those questions aside long enough to find out that some connections don't fall within what we're used to, or what we're brought up with. This became apparent when I found myself walking miles and miles out of the way of my house, or even hers, to continue our long conversations about everything.

Although I do think that in some ways our relationship grows regardless of my Jewish identity, at the same time I think our personalities match so well because of the values and traits I learned and inherited within my family and the larger Jewish community.

I'm 25 now and looking back nearly a decade, I can see how naive I was at age sixteen. I'm glad I can now say I know everything there is to know about dating. Really though, Ben Folds said it best:

"The more you know, the more you know you don't know shit."

Shalom out,

Ilan

Interview Corner: Karen Ben-Moshe

Karen is a friend I met at another wonderful friend's Erev Rosh Hashanah dinner when I moved to California. She is an almost 30-year-old graduate student at UC Berkeley getting two Masters degrees, in public health and public policy, because "she's crazy and an overachiever, like most Jews." She grew up on Long Island and was bat mitzvahed in the same synagogue that her mom was bat mitzvahed and married in. Her bike's name is Rosie and her camera's name is Sally. She's never been married and would like to meet a (nice) Jewish boy. Karen is afraid that this interview is going to make her sound like a bad Jewish stereotype from a Philip Roth novel.

Jew and Me: What does it mean to be Jewish?
Karen Ben-Moshe: Being Jewish means having a sense of community, it means being part of something bigger than yourself, and it also means responsibility. Responsibility to your family and to the whole Jewish community. I don't know if this is what makes a Jew and Jew, but I think this is what makes me a Jew. . . I think [Jews also place] a really high value on education - because you have to be able to read in order to pray - and on giving back. For better or worse, there is also this feeling of not always feeling totally safe, that you never know what could happen. Many Jewish holidays and much of Jewish history is about being persecuted. There's Purim, Pesach, Hanukkah, all of which are about being persecuted and attempts to wipe out the Jewish race. Especially given the Holocaust, there's always a sense of slight insecurity that I don't think you feel on a day-to-day basis at all, but there is the sense of being a persecuted people [that reinforces a community identity.] And I think there's a need to be self protective because there are so few Jews, you feel like if you stop being Jewish it's a major thing.

JAM: How do you feel about Jews who have Jewish mothers or parents, but who weren't raised Jewish?
KBM: I think they're Jewish. I don't think most Orthodox Jews feel this way, but there are so few Jews that to say that anyone who identifies as Jewish isn't Jewish is kind of silly.

JAM: What is the most challenging facet of Judaism in your daily life?
KBM: Guilt? I grew up in the kind of house where if I got a 96 on a test, my father would say "where were the other four points?" and he was kidding, but he was also. . . maybe not. I mean, who knew? [There's a responsibility to your family] and to yourself. I think it can be really internalized, and I don't know that all Jews feel this, but in the community I grew up in there were a lot of expectations that you would do well in school, you would go to a good college, you would get a good job. . . There were high expectations. This is always under the surface, but everybody knows about it. For example, I called my sister to say I might not come home for Passover and she said "Grandma won't love you anymore." And she was totally kidding! But the fact that that is even the kind of humor says something to me. That sort of guilt can be pervasive.

JAM: Why are high expectations not necessarily exclusive to Jews, but at least very prevalent among Jews?
KBM: I don't know. I think it goes back to, number one, this expectation that you'll educate yourself. I'm wondering if part of it is the need to be an upstanding citizen and do things the right way. That way, there will be no reason for anyone to hate you for being a Jew. I don't know if that's true - so much of it is implicit. I never said to my parents, "Why should I do well in school?" They just expected it. It's also a class thing, though - I definitely grew up in an upper middle class neighborhood and I think that's probably an expectation of many [kids] in upper middle class neighborhoods.

JAM: How do you feel about conversion?
KBM: I think that it's wonderful for people to convert, but I think that the same way that growing up in a different country impacts [your worldview] someone who converts won't get it just because they won't have grown up that way. And I don't think that makes them any less of a Jew, it just means that their life experiences will have been very different. It's interesting because often Jews by choice will have more knowledge and more understanding [of Judaism] because they will have learned as an adult many things that [born] Jews just sort of don't. On the other hand, for [born] Jews the songs and traditions are so much a part of who we are because that's how we grew up and that's part of our family, and when you convert you don't have that. Jews by choice have the knowledge without the background. And I think that that can work, but it can be really difficult. I feel like I moved to San Francisco five years ago and people who grew up here are always like, "you're not native" - it's similar with conversion.

JAM: How do you feel about interfaith relationships?
KBM: I feel really conflicted about [interfaith relationships]. I personally would like to meet somebody Jewish, I would like to keep a kosher home, I will never celebrate Christmas, my children will not go to church, and that's a lot easier to do if you marry someone Jewish. On the other hand, given the number of Jewish men in the world, it's hard for me to know that I will meet somebody Jewish. My mother has many times said to me, "don't even date someone who isn't Jewish because why put yourself through that heartache?" Because if you decide that they're the one and the religion thing is an issue. . . It's certainly not something that anyone in my mother's generation wants for their children, nor is it something that they can totally relate to. My parents have no non-Jewish friends. At all. That's pretty amazing. So for them, dating a non-Jew was never even an option.

JAM: What about non-Jewish women dating Jewish men, specifically?
KBM: I think that given that I'd like to end up with somebody Jewish, it is hard to see Jewish men date non-Jewish women because there is this [feeling] like, "how did they get one of them?" It's a terrible feeling and it's totally not an intellectual, reasonable thought, but for me I think, "I can't meet a Jewish guy, and even when I do meet Jewish guys half of them are jerks, and she got one of the good ones."

JAM: How would you feel about dating a non-Jewish man who's interested in conversion?
KBM: That would be fine. I've dated non-Jewish men, but they haven't been religious. It would be impossible for me to be with someone who was a practicing Christian. It's really interesting, I was at a bar once and when I told this guy that I wouldn't marry someone who isn't Jewish, he said I was being racist. And I thought, "whoa. . . you might be right." There is an entire population of people that I would prefer not to end up with. Of course, one could argue that many people will only date someone tall or someone with dark hair. . . But, yeah, it struck me. Because in a way he was right.

JAM: In one sentence (only one sentence!) say something about Israel.
KBM: The smell of the earth in Israel is different, and it's a different color.

JAM: Why do Jews cover their eyes when lighting Shabbat candles?
KBM: I know this one. Jews cover their eyes because you're not supposed to light candles on Shabbat because you're not supposed to work on Shabbat. And so you cover your eyes to hide the sin from yourself, the fact that you've sinned. And that's why.

The Chavurah continues, just barely

Okay, so after that initial "housekeeping" meeting of Chavurah liaisons at Beth El, I arranged for our first planning meeting. Given that only six people, including Ilan and me, had signed up in our "demographic," (read: late twenties and early thirties, no children) I didn't know what to expect. We met at Caffe Trieste on Piedmont Avenue in Oakland and. . . only two people, Dan and Jill, showed up. And they were a couple. So, essentially, it was a double date.

We did the best with what we had and planned to meet again as a group, hopefully with our two missing members, for a Tu B'Shevat garden clean-up at Beth El and lunch at Cheeseboard. (Tu B'Shevat, according to Anita Diamant in Living a Jewish Life, is a holiday that celebrates "the relationship between people and the natural world, or in contemporary parlance, the ecology of the planet. In Jewish tradition, the primary symbol of this relationship is the tree.") Dan and Jill planned to be there, but our two additional members either didn't respond or couldn't make it. So we canceled. Sad, but true. We're working on reaching out to the congregation to get additional members and breathe some life into the group, so we'll see what happens.

On a more positive note, this has freed Ilan and I up to celebrate Tu B'Shevat in other ways. Namely, by gathering a group of friends to head toward Ano Nuevo to scope out the elephant seals in all of their mating, fighting glory. (Hm, mating and fighting. . . always closely related.) And maybe on Saturday we can pot some new house plants, too. And eat some fruit. Indeed.

Taking it to the people

I want to start a feature on the blog wherein I ask the same five questions of different Jews (and, occasionally, others) to get their perspectives on issues related to what it means to be a Jew, where "Jews by choice" (converts) fit into the grand scheme of things and other topics. I know it's impossible to fit the wildly varied opinions of a whole group of people (especially, perhaps, Jews) into a neat little Interview Corner but, alas, that's what I'm attempting to do.

My wonderful friend Karen Ben-Moshe, who has been staying with me since Ilan went to Boston for a visit, has agreed to be my first victim. . . ahem, subject. She and I spent last night brainstorming some questions that any Jew could answer, but that will hopefully elicit intriguing and diverse responses. And here they are.

1. What does it mean to be Jewish? OR What makes a Jew, a Jew?
2. What is the most challenging facet of Judaism in practice?
3. How do you feel about conversion? OR How do you feel about interfaith relationships, especially non-Jewish women dating Jewish men?
4. In one sentence (only one sentence!) say something about Israel.
5. Why do Jews cover their eyes when lighting Shabbat candles?

What do you think? I want to keep my questions to five, and I think these encompass the most confusing, controversial and/or interesting topics in my mind. Next up, we'll see how Karen would respond! (Cue evil laugh. . .)

Like, OMGoddess!

Last night I went to the second meeting of Introduction to the Jewish Experience, a class I'm taking through Berkeley's Lehrhaus Judaica. (I missed the first meeting when I tried to bike the eight or so miles from my house without the use of a topographical map. Damn hills out here!) This is the second series in a three-series class and this time around we're talking about Jewish history and text. (You can check out Rabbi Adar's website dedicated to the class by clicking here.) To supplement my classroom learning, I just started reading A Short History of the Jewish People by Raymond P. Scheindlin.

So what juicy historical tidbits have I learned so far? First of all, history up to 500 or so BCE is CONFUSING! Maybe it's the abundance of varying sources (the Torah, ancient artifacts, squabbling historians, etc.) or maybe it's just difficult to understand thousands of years of history in just a few hours and a couple hundred pages. Either way - yikes! My original plan was to summarize each chapter of the book here, both for my own memory and for others who are likewise overwhelmed. But I'm SO overwhelmed that I've since nixed that idea.

So! Instead I bring you some of my favorite and most surprising facts. If these facts seem off to any of my (two) loyal readers, please feel free to call my bluff in the comments section.

1. When the Israelites (technically Hebrews at this point?) were fleeing Egypt, God parted the "Sea of Reeds" which is usually translated as the "Red Sea," however this is not the Red Sea that we see on a map today. The exact location of the Sea of Reeds/Red Sea is unknown.

2. The first king of the Israelites was Saul. The second king was David - the same David who conquered Goliath in the story of (who knew?) David and Goliath! (Goliath was a Philistine hero.) This is probably common knowledge to most, but I thought this was such a fun fact! Also, David had his eye on Bathsheba, the wife of one of his captains. So he sent that captain to the front lines to fight, where he inevitably died. Then David was able to marry Bathsheba, who gave birth to Solomon (who would be the third king). Sneaky, eh?

3. After King Solomon died, the Israelites split into two camps: Israel in the north and Judah in the south. During this time, the term "Israelites" actually refers to those living in the north, though Jerusalem and the temple that Solomon had built there were still in the south.

4. If you've read this far, you've really earned this next fun fact. . . GOD WAS A WOMAN! I'm joking. BUT, before Josiah came along and enforced very strict monotheism, there is evidence that Israelites (and others) recognized that God had a wife, named Asherah. In both Israel and Judah, artifacts have been recovered inscribed with blessings that reference "Yahweh and his Asherah." Though she certainly wasn't what one could call a goddess (there was always only one God), she was considered the protector of fertility and lady cycles, and also overseer of matters related to the sea. (I've seen translations of her name to "one who strides over the sea," etc.) Isn't that a really fun fact? I knew you'd think so. I've also read sources that say that near stones erected to God one can sometimes also find "asherim," wooden posts that sometimes "embrace" the stone and are said to be in tribute to Asherah. Can anyone confirm seeing such a thing?

Okay, on to chapter two. . . "Judea and the Origins of the Diaspora." Yippee!

The Chavurah gets underway

After a fun night out last night, I dragged my still full belly (TOO. MUCH. CHOCOLATE.) out of bed this morning and biked the six miles to Beth El for an organizational meeting for the Chavurot they're starting there. A Chavurah, according to the Union of Reform Judaism, is "a group of people (individuals, couples, families) who get together on a regular basis to celebrate Jewish life." I signed Ilan and I up a while ago in hopes we'd get to know a few new people like us to do fun Jewish things with. (Writing that reminds me of Dirty Dancing, when Baby's sister sarcastically says to her, "Quite the joiner, aren't we?")

Anyway, this particular meeting was for liaisons, who coordinate the meetings of the Chavurot and connect with folks at Beth El with updates and in search of necessary resources. I don't remember signing up for that job, but apparently I did and that's the role I found myself in this morning. Thankfully, another "no children, 20- or 30-something" group member, Dan, showed up as well and we agreed to tag team some of the liaison duties moving forward. I'm really looking forward to meeting the others in my Chavurah and planning our first meeting. I'm thinking dessert and drinks at Cafe Trieste. . . Stay tuned!

Step into my library

I think it will be helpful to share some of the books I've enjoyed reading thus far.

Living a Jewish Life
By Anita Diamant
This is a great, easy-to-read primer and provides enough basic knowledge to inform future reading of more in-depth books.

The Jewish Catalogs (First, Second and Third)
By Strassfeld & Strassfeld
I was introduced to the First Jewish Catalog by my wonderful friend and former housemate, Hadley. Published between 1973 and 1980, these books tout themselves as "do it yourself kits" for cultivating a personal Jewish practice outside of organized Judaism. They're absolutely fascinating and fun to read - the Jewish equivalent of finding your mom's early edition of Our Bodies, Ourselves. They may be out of print, but you can find them used at abebooks.com.

The Jewish Holidays
By Michael Strassfeld
This book has been invaluable! Whenever I have a question about a holiday ritual that no one can seem to answer ("That's just the way we do it!") this book has provided one. It's also a great way to impress your friends with your obscure knowledge.

And, of course, the Torah! I look at contemporary commentary each week (or as often as possible) on chabad.org. It's an especially great place to see what the ladies think.

And so it begins. . .

There are times when saying, "I'm not Jewish," feels like a confession akin to "I was born in a sewer" or "I eat my finger nail clippings." Or introducing myself with only my first name, Rachel, and not my decidedly non-Jewish last name, MacNeill, feels like an intentional lie. For the past year, I've been just barely flying under the radar as a non-Jew in a Jewish world.

But that wasn't always the case. I've had many accepting Jewish girlfriends. I've gone to a Shabbat service or two, and even fumbled my way through songs over dinners at Hillel in college. I've taken classes and visited important Jewish sites in Europe. And, excepting one very heated discussion with my friend Rebecca over circumcision in our college dorm's co-ed bathroom, the fact that I'm not Jewish has been, superficially at least, irrelevant.

And then I started dating Ilan. And then we were dating more seriously. And then we moved in together. And I've had to confront my feelings about religion, which have been mostly out-of-sight-out-of-mind until now. For him, having never dated a non-Jew, I think our relationship involved many more difficult decisions than it did for me. I don't speak Hebrew. (Um, shalom?) I grew up with a very well decorated Christmas tree. I had never eaten a latke. And the list goes on. Our childhoods, which inevitably inform our adulthoods, were radically different. Over time, perhaps we'd discover that there were disconnections in our worldviews that couldn't be bridged by love alone? Fundamental disagreements that wouldn't be reconciled?

And so we embarked on an adventure together to find commonalities and, I'll admit it, for me to get my Jewish ass in gear. I hope that documenting our journey and the hilarity that inevitably ensues will inspire others going through the same thing and take away some of the sting of those first, embarassing baby steps toward finding a niche in a Jewish community. Enjoy!