The Enigma

"Why?"

"What exactly was it that made you change your mind?"

"How did this happen?"

Living in a small town community has its challenges for any Jew, I know. We're isolated from Jewish culture centers and inundated with messages that Christianity is the real religion (I was surprised to realize the other day that "Judeo-Christian" really means "Christian with some heritage" when in common usage around here). With this in mind, why would I be at all surprised to find that Christians are baffled at the thought of conversion to Judaism from Christianity? After all, I am well aware that the prevailing thought is along the lines of "Christianity is Judaism perfected." Why wouldn't Christians question my decision to "go backward?"

Even a couple years into this journey, I still find these surprises lying in wait for me, just as they still scratch their heads. I am the enigma to my friends, family, and acquaintances. I am the problem they discuss when religion is the topic of conversation. I am the human Rubik's cube that they continually fidget with and fuss over, hoping to find the one part that clicks and unlocks the puzzle.

It sounds so self-centered, but for my nearest and dearest, it's generally accurate. I think the dailiness of Jewish life, the weekly coming of Shabbat, the frequency of the multitude of Jewish holidays on the calendar, along with the Christian admonitions to bring back the wanderer and evangelize to the unsaved, keeps this paramount on their list of to-dos. My seeking and studying has been boiled down to the terse "are you still doing that Jewish thing?"

Well, yes, I am. Thankfully, "doing Jewish" is a great way to put it, so the question makes me smile rather than frown. Yes, I'm still trying to live my life Jewishly, do Jewish things, celebrate Jewish holidays, doing that Jewish thing.

Even holding conversation after conversation, the questions continue to emerge: why would you go backward? Why would you turn your back on your upbringing? What did it?

I think they want as much to know "what was the clincher" as anything. I don't know whether it's due to a concern that a similar situation might affect them the same way, or whether if they could just know what to attack and argue against, they might have a chance to change my mind. It's as if my convictions are in code, and if they could just break the code, they could reorder my thoughts. So what on earth was I thinking?

In all honesty, it's been long enough that the original catalyst has long gone fuzzy in my mind. I remember the feeling of wholeness I found in the synagogue that first Simchat Torah, but I don't remember the arguments that caused me to question the upbringing I received. I remember the feeling of opening up a door when I began Hebrew lessons and could follow along in the siddur during services, but not the words that might have made me open to the experience. Apparently, the first inklings will have to remain an engima to us all. What's important to me is my continuing identification with Jewish life and the Jewish community. How and why did it begin?

I honestly don't know. But I'm glad it did.

Israel

I have been part of a discussion about the Matzav...the current "situation" in Gaza. In a way, it's very painful. The woman I find myself "facing off" with is a dear friend who has been a wonderful support since I first began thinking of conversion, and who has been of the same mind for many of the political discussions this group of ladies has had over the past few years. I find myself wanting so much to agree with her, but I can't. She has a personal connection with a Palestinian family in a refugee camp in the north, and that fuels her end of the discussion. Since it's very immediate for her, she is very emotional about the situation, and I can feel that as she makes her points.

I can't argue with personal experience, but I know, too, that one person's or one family's experiences do not give a full account. The actions of individuals are not the actions of a country, and while certainly even the country may have made decisions that were poorly thought out and which lead to individual heartache, it does not immediately follow that the current situation is therefore evil and wrong. War is not fair, it is does not take account of persons, and it does lead to death and destruction. That is the nature of war. When a group knowingly instigates a country into self-protection, the people who are led by or who protect and sanction that group can't cry foul because they aren't themselves a part of that group.

As I find myself becoming a part of this family, Bnei Yisrael, I recall the sentiment that "blood is thicker than water." I stand up for Israel, because Israel is us. Hamas and other Islamist groups aren't simply "standing up for their rights." They want to push Israel and her people off the map entirely.

I feel for the Palestinian people who are suffering through this, for those who have been killed, and those who have lost. But my heart is with Israel. With her I will stand.

Slow and Steady Wins the Race

I am enjoying these Introduction to Judaism classes so much! It's a chance to discuss different basic topics. A time to ask the nagging little questions that I can never think of when I run into the rabbi at other times, and which are too small to bother with sending an email to ask. It's also a great way to exchange and compare ideas with others, as well as just sharing time with friends.

Another great feature of these Sunday afternoons is being able to find one on one time with the rabbi if I need it. Last Sunday was one of those days, although talking with him was unintentional until I realized my worries about my mother were already pouring out to his sympathetic ear. My rabbi is a very easy person to share with, although no conversation ends without being given something to think about and turn over in my mind.

What stuck with me from this conversation was his gentle questioning on how my faith journey is coming. With so much going on over the past few months, I have to admit my movement has come to a standstill. I am forever questioning myself whether I still believe converting is the right thing to do for myself, but also for my family. We have so many stressors right now that I don't feel at liberty to simply throw another one into the mix and hope the batter doesn't go flying. Thankfully, Rabbi understands and agrees with my assessment. He said something about things not progressing swiftly, and I agreed that that was not in the cards, to which he nodded. In this case, it is not the best thing to be the swiftest. Just as I read to my children, slow and steady will win the race. With a supportive group of people to cheer me on, I have no doubt that will be true.

A day late, a dollar short...

Veterans Day was yesterday, but today was the day my daughter's school set aside for honoring all the veterans who are either family, friends, or neighbors of the students. My daughter and another little girl got a special surprise in the form of a webcam conversation with both their fathers, who are serving together in a unit in the National Guard. Apparently there were tears on both sides of the screen, but the excitement of seeing her father for the first time in over a month was well worth it.

I hate to harp on something so simple, especially when military families seem to do so every time we turn around. I suppose I could say it bears repeating, but in all honesty I'm just expressing my heartfelt emotions when I say that the families sacrifice, too. Our soldiers willingly admit that they couldn't do what they do in service to our country if they didn't have those loyal, loving supporters back home waiting for them. I don't think that most military spouses and families are looking for sympathy or a pat on the back...frankly, that's annoying. However, until going through a deployment I had no idea how true the axiom is, that you can't really understand until you experience the situation. The depth of sorrow when explaining to a child how exactly the military will [hopefully not need to] notify her of her father's death is one that can't be plumbed without experience. How do you hold a child night after night as she cries herself to sleep, and continue to hold yourself together?

Being a spouse and not a military member, I know the softer side of deployment. Knowing how difficult it is for the families watching and waiting, I gain new appreciation of how much more difficult it must be for the military members who not only are missing their family and friends, but also all the comforts of home and the sense of security knowing that no one will bomb the neighborhood at night. I haven't experienced it to know in part or in full what the soldiers, airmen, sailors, and Marines feel, and I'm thankful in a way that their service makes mine on the home front, rather than the battle front, possible.

To all those who have served or are serving our country in any capacity, thank you. To all those who have supported those who serve, thank you as well.

Long Time Gone

If you're a Dixie Chicks fan, you'll know the title reference. All others may feel free to look it up at their leisure.

Do you ever feel that something just doesn't fit? Maybe you've started to wonder if you will ever fit anywhere. Well, as a blonde, Southern, country, formerly diehard Christian who wants to convert to Judaism, I can empathize. Sometimes Judaism seems so right for me...but that's only when I'm considering myself. Most of the time, it is feeling not-quite-right to very-wrong: not quite right in that I don't quite fit with the local synagogue crowd. Very wrong in that my husband and children are not only Gentiles, but Christians. Born-again, baptized Christians who love Jesus, love "Jesus Loves Me" to be sung to them, love to read about Jesus.

And then there's me. Confused, alone, torn in what feels like a million directions. Who is G-d? Who was/is Jesus of Nazareth, Yeshua? Who was/is/will be Moshiach? Where do I fit in all of this?

For Mother's Day we watched Gentleman's Agreement. The movie stars Gregory Peck as a writer who takes on an assignment to write about antisemitism in post-WWII America. At first he is hesitant because he feels unable to give a better treatment to the situation than had been done dozens of times over before. Then he has a light-bulb moment: he'll be Jewish for as long as it takes to get the material to write his piece. At one point he tells his Jewish boyhood friend not only is passing himself off as a Jew working, it's working a little too well. His mother's doctor reacts disapprovingly when he asks to be referred to a Jewish doctor at Mount Sinai or Beth Israel hospitals, his new fiance reacts poorly to the idea and argues over whether they should continue the charade in front of her sister and her friends, and most hurtful of all, his son is called "dirty Jew" and "kike" by the neighborhood kids and runs home crying.

Of course, the movie ends in a positive way, and I've always loved it for some reason. But seeing it now, after beginning the long journey toward Jewishness, it's as if I'm seeing it for the first time. It feels so much more hurtful when one might be the victim, versus the WASP who says, "Oh, how horrible...for you." The situation feels quite a bit different when the shoe is on the other foot, when you can't thank your lucky stars that you were born a Gentile, that your children will never go through that pain because they aren't a minority (or in the case of a convert, related to the minority). It certainly gave me pause.

I suppose I'm just feeling that even though I'm scared for what my choice may do to my family, to my children...I'm feeling that "the rest is a long time gone, and it ain't comin' back again..."