The New Jew

Our relationship with the eternal light

Yesterday's parsha was about the building of the tabernacle which led to a discussion during Torah study that revolved around the eternal flame that burns in our synagogue. 

Keeping a lamp lit at all times brings up questions, some answered by the rabbis of old and others completely open for discussion. Are we keeping the light going as a gift to God? Does it serve another purpose for God? Are we keeping it lit for our own reasons? If synagogue has an electric eternal flame that requires little upkeep, what service does it provide members of the congregation? What does it mean when the light goes out?

Rabbi Jason of Beth Am in Tampa often stresses the philosophy behind Martin Buber's I and Thou. Yesterday it hit me that the eternal flame creates a kind of "I and Thou" relationship with a synagogue. 

When you go to a supermarket that has lights on even when it's closed, at best you might think about the building's security and how that might be necessary to keep shennanigans from taking place after hours. There is no deeper relationship there. A grocery store is there for commerce. Even if it's Whole Foods or another store that creates deep ties with its customers, it's still just a grocery store.

In some ways, the eternal flame represents the presence of God. When we look at the lamp in a synagogue, we are reminded that it is always there, so in some aspect, the presence of God is always there. If we're at home and think about the eternal flame, we are reminded that the presence of God is still there, even in our absence. 

In a way, the lamps we keep it in our synagogues harbor a deeper connection between us and the actual buildings, setting them aside for an "I and Thou" relationship, instead of the "I and It" relationship we find at the grocery store.

Tzitzit!!!!!!!!!!

As some of my friends in Tampa already know, I'm kind of obsessed with tzitzit. I love them!

Tzitzit are knotted and wrapped tassels Jews are commanded to wear at the corner of their garments. Based on the number of threads, knots, and winds in the tzitzit, there are a few explanations for the symbolism of the tassels. The common reasons are that they stand for "God is one" and the number of commandments Jews are supposed to follow.

Different Jewish sects allow different kinds of tzitzit. I made my own tallit (prayer shawl) which was green and blue (mostly) with green tzitzit on the corners. A lot of people wouldn't consider it proper to wear, but it was fine for the Beth Am crowd. I've seen rainbow tzitzit attached to clothing. I think it's a part of the Talmud that states that the tzitzit can be dyed to match a person's clothing. Typical tallit tzitzit are white with a blue thread, or shamash, running through the middle.

There are also controversies over what you can attatch tzitzit to. A garment is supposed to have four corners. (Although, at one point I was going to attatch them to a prayer shawl with six corners. I think I got the okay for that from wearing Rabbi Jason down more than anything else.) I've heard in more conservative circles that a woman's prayer shawl should be feminine. I've seen more than a few tallit with butterflies and flowers on them because of this. I've seen a few people wear tzitzit under their clothes to fulfill the tzitzit commandment, and I assume they were on a four sided under garment not sewn together. I've considered buying undershirts and connecting my tzitzit to the sides and wearing them. I'm kind of in the rainbow tzitzit camp, myself.

Like with any other commandment, there are billions of different opinions on how to wear the tzitzit properly. They come from interpretations of the Torah, Talmud, and other important texts. It's like navigating a mine field, because you never know how someone is going to react.

I just read an awesome blog post on Jew School about Yisroel Bas's own experimentation with tzitzit and the different advice he received on whether or not it was appropriate for him to wear them on a garment he had custom sewn for them.

A big change

On December 31, I made a giant leap and moved to New Orleans from Tampa.

While visiting New Orleans, I sat in on some Reform services, but I didn't fall in love with the synagogues. Then, I did a little research and found Shir Chadash, a Conservative synagogue. I officially joined Shir Chadash on Thursday.

It's kind of funny. When I converted, I told one of the rabbis on my Beit Din that I was a Reform Jew. Now, I'm technically a Conservative Jew, even though I still consider myself Reform.

I've had some conversations with a few people who were confused over the difference between Reform and Conservative Judaism. A couple thought Conservative Judaism was the same as Orthodox.

It's pretty hard for me to tell you what the difference is, because individual Jews are so different. And, individual synagogues are so different. Here's my best attempt for now:

Reform Jews broke away from Orthodox because they felt a religion based in logic was best. They wanted to keep the most uplifting aspects of Judaism (candle lighting on Shabbat, for expample) while changing the things they didn't agree with or cutting them out entirely (ordaining female and gay rabbis, for example). In a way, Conservative Judaism is like a bridge. Conservatives don't cut as much out, but they keep a lot of progressive changes, like ordaining women and gays. So, a prayer that's changed in Reform (like adding women's names to a list of patriarchs people should strive to be like) is unchanged in conservative prayer books.

Also, it is generally accepted in Reform Judaism that the Torah was not written by God but was written by people trying to understand God. Conservative Jews are more reluctant to say things like "People wrote the Torah" or "Multiple people wrote the Torah."

Here's a good article on the different sects of Judaism that may explain it better than I can. 

I made the decision to join Shir Chadash, because I was looking for a combination of elements I didn't find in the local Reform synagogues. I wanted to join a warm, close-knit community with an engaging rabbi where I feel I can make a difference. I'm in for a lot of changes, and I'm up against a huge learning curve. But, I feel I made the right decision.

Choosing a new Judaism

In less than two weeks, I will be driving to New Orleans to begin a new chapter of my life.

Most of me is thrilled. I love New Orleans. I love cities. I will be going to school to study special education and will be building a sustainable future for myself.

Part of me, though, is slightly traumatized. I'm leaving behind a Jewish community, and I don't yet have a replacement for it.

LIfe would be easier if I could take my synagogue with me. I have a rabbi who loves Star Wars and a cantor who picks and chooses from her favorite Jewish folk songs (from the 60s to today) for most services. I love the people here, and I will miss them dearly.

Still, it's time to move on. I can always move back if New Orleans isn't the city I think it will be.

I currently have two prospects for synagogues in NOLA. One is a Reform Jew's (with a capital "R") synagogue. It's like walking into a giant Protestant church, with an organ and hundreds of seats. The choir sounds like they should be in a professional recording studio. The cantor sounds like he really wanted to be an opera singer when he grows up. The only aspect I really liked about the 'gogue I went to a few weeks ago during a visit was the rabbi, who is a wisp of a woman who had an interesting sermon.

Her life is so busy, it looks like there's wait more than a month long to meet with her. It's even harder for me to get excited about a mega synagogue where I can't meet with anyone to talk about the move and how it's going to impact my Jewish life until well after I've moved.

My other prospect is a Conservative synagogue I've never been to. I sent the secretary an email asking if I could schedule an appointment to tour the facilities some time after my move. She forwarded my information to the rabbi, who immediately called me on the phone to offer a place to stay, if I needed it, and dinner with him and his family on the first Shabbat I'm in town.

When I converted, I was asked what kind of Jew I was. I said "Reform Jew," because I do think Judaism should always be in a state of reform. It should stay relevant to modern times, and people should be able to learn about all contexts of the religion before deciding what aspects they should truly embrace.

Conservative Judaism does all of this. They are just more traditional in the way they do it, and they offer less wiggle room for people who want to take on "Judaism lite."

When I talked to the Conservative rabbi, I explained I am Reform, but in Tampa the two branches of Judaism often work and study together. There are members of my current synagogue who belong to Beth Am AND Kol Ami, the Conservative synagogue down the street.

I'm not going to make any decisions until I've attended services and met with the rabbi at the Conservative synagogue, but I will almost always choose warm and homey over massive and anonymous, even if it means leaving Reform Judaism behind for a time.

Navigating the holiday season

Yesterday was Thanksgiving, which officially started the most stressful time of year for millions of Americans. Converting to Judaism can make the whole holiday mess even worse.

Some of my Christian family members aren't happy with me, especially at this time of year. You see, I've opted out of tradition. Sure, I can enjoy Thanksgiving, I can eat with the family and say what I'm thankful for. I can gracefully ignore the "Thank you Jesus" prayer at the dinner table. It's Christmas Eve and Christmas that become more of a sore, sticky subject.

Some rabbis (including mine) gently suggest to stay away from Christmas early on. This can be a good suggestion, but I think it's pretty hard to stick with, especially if you have kids.

Some rabbis (including mine) point out that you can celebrate with your family without celebrating Christmas. I also agree with this, except in my household, Christmas was never about Christ. It was about family togetherness and Santa Clause. If it had been about Christ, I would have opted out at about age four, even with the presents sitting under the tree. How do you opt out of a holiday that isn't religious and focuses around holiday magic and presents? It's hard!

In most respects, I'm lucky. I just have myself to worry about. I can't imagine what it's like to try to navigate this process with kids. I just have to deal with snarky comments about how I'm not going to receive any presents because I'm a Jew (fine with me) while some of my friends have to decide whether or not Julie and Johnny are going to MawMaw and PawPaw's for Christmas this year. They have to decide if Santa is going to fly over their house without stopping and what they're going to do about artfully placing smaller, less schnazzy presents under the menorah. And, they get to figure out how much their kids will get to take part in the festivities if they do spend the holidays with family. Are they going to have the "We don't believe in Jesus" talk with little Julie in front of the Christmas tree? Are they going to grab the holiday ham from little Johnny's plate before he can take a bite?

My advice, and this is to everyone, not just us Jews by Choice, is to do what you want this holiday season. Don't overspend, don't overstress. Even before I converted, I enjoyed traditional Chinese food Christmas meals followed by a movie at the theater, or a movie marathon at home with friends. If you can convince your family members to celebrate your holiday with you, more power to you. If you feel you need to go celebrate with them on theirs, go ahead, just try not to get too invested. And, if you need to opt out, find a friend who is also free for the holidays and have a nice dinner together or go out for a movie. Do what you can to keep the holiday blues at bay.

Kosher shake 'n bake chicken

I love kosher fried chicken and similar kosher chicken recipes. The foundation of this idea is from Matzoh Ball Gumbo: Culinary Tales from the Jewish South, a book I used for research in an anthropological study in college. In it, Marcie Cohen Ferris explains that a lot of Southern cooks use buttermilk to make fried chicken and details an easy way to do the same thing with an egg bath.

I've been playing around with this recipe for the last one or two years, refining it. I make kosher chicken tenders all the time, and kosher fried chicken. Now, I've moved on to the shake 'n bake, mostly because I don't have frying oil at the moment.

You can use kosher chicken; I use free range organic chicken because I think it's more ethical. I also use free range, organic, vegetarian fed eggs.

Kosher Shake 'n Bake Chicken

2 lbs boneless chicken breast

1 cup matzoh ball mix

1 t garlic powder

1 t garam masala powder

salt to taste

1- 2 eggs

hot sauce to taste

Cut chicken into small strips for faster cooking time. Line a cookie sheet with parchment paper or tin foil. Preheat overn to 375 degrees. Mix matzoh mix, garlic powder, garam masala powder, and salt together in a plastic bag or on a plate. Beat eggs and hot sauce together. Dip chicken in egg mixture, then dredge through matzoh or place in bag and shake. Bake for 15- 35 minutes- cut into chicken to make sure it is cooked all the way through.

It's all in the outlook

The Days of Awe ended yesterday, and over the past week I've realized how different my outlook is from many born Jews.

In a lighthearted sense, you can see the difference in my relationship with bacon and pork products. My mom managed to insert bacon and ham into my daily eating routine from an early age. I ate ham sandwiches, BLT sandwiches, potatoes with chunks of ham, baked ham, fried ham sandwiches, pork ribs, pork roast, sausage, you name it. She did a very good job in preparing me for a life without pork.

It's not that I don't like pork. I just prefer almost anything else. Give me a baked chicken or a good steak, and I'll be much happier than if you give me bacon and eggs.

In contrast, I've heard born Jews give sermons on the deliciousness of bacon. A friend said her husband would bathe in bacon grease if he could.

He probably wants bacon and ribs because they were seen as mysterious "other" foods when he was growing up, and I take pork products for granted because I had them every day as just another food.

I also realized that I love Jewish religious services. That's one of the reason why I converted. Born Jews tend to take them for granted. Hundreds of people I'd never seen before showed up for the High Holy Days services. They come to Rosh Hashannah and Yom Kippur because they're seen as a kind of bare minimum test. Quite a few of the people I know sat through services bored and went through the motions, because they don't see the beauty in the rituals and prayers. They attended an entirely different event than I did.

As a convert, I truly am blessed, because I get to see every aspect of the religion through new eyes.

A learning moment

There are big changes ahead in my life, just in time for the new year. But, more about that later. For now, here's an educational video by my rabbi:

Hurry up, NEW Year!

The Jewish New Year is sneaking up on us, and this is going to be a year of many firsts for me.

I've already had my first trip to the beach as a Jew. My first ice cream sandwich. My first Shabbat. My first book read and my first purchase at a store. Now a group of more important firsts are on their way.

Now, I can enjoy my first Jewish Days of Awe. My first Chanukah. Who knows, I might even go to the Matzoh Ball.

My life is pretty exciting, and this year should prove to be the most exciting so far, because I have a whole year to view everything with new eyes. And, come this time next year, I will be able to start a new cycle, my first year where everything I do I've done before, as a Jew.

Keep your bacon out of my food!

I was reading a review of The Fruit of Her Hands: The Story of Shira of Ashkenaz (which will hit bookstores September 8) this week, and I was struck by the paranoia of Jewish people in the 13th century. In the beginning of the book, Michelle Cameron has Shira contemplate the risk of Christian servants contaminating kosher food by their ignorance or sheer malice. In fact, Shira's own nursemaid is fired for this very crime. I remember thinking how great it is to live in a modern time, where things like that don't happen.

Then, I went to a Lunch and Learn with my synagogue at a Perkins. Two people ordered foods that would normally have bacon in them. Two people asked the waitress to hold the bacon. And, two people had bacon in their food. (It's possible there were more, but these were the two people sitting directly across from me.)

I ordered a fish sandwich. The bread tasted like it was dipped in bacon grease.

All of this made the waitress's entreaty for us to have a "blessed" day seem a little iffy.