Limmud Bay Area

I was so excited to hear that the Bay Area had finally gotten its Jewish act together and that this winter we would welcome Limmud to our stomping grounds. 

I found out last week that registration is $190, including the sessions, a hotel room, and 4 kosher meals, at a state beach/park in Monterey. Sounds loverly.

Except I thought I had read somewhere that it was being held in San Francisco? And that would mean days at Limmud and nights in the comfort of our own homes in the Bay Area without the added expense of a hotel room and kosher catering (for what I assume to be most of the participants anyway, though I suppose out of the area folks might be interested in coming).  Not having been to Limmud’s in the past, I guess I didn’t realize this was more of a retreat than a conference.

Now I have some weighing of options to calculate: long weekend in Jewish environment with some really rad Yids and the potential to make great connections and friendships, or weekend retreat by my little lonesome self.

Floored.

I just got back from an off-site meeting with some of our contractors. When I was headed out, one of the guys I worked with at many community events introduced me to a new employee of theirs with: “this is the one I was telling you about, the one who converted in May. She works on events and social media monitoring with us.”

“Yeah. Well see, I don’t really believe in conversion, nothing personal. You’re born Jewish or you’re not. I mean, if you died today, who would sit shiva for you?”

Floored. As I said.

And then, overwhelmed, with the realization that she’s right.

I think that’s what sucks the most right now.

I had to turn off the interwebs yesterday.

Everything was going fine yesterday until I checked Facebook at lunch.  First I read a story about a small Baptist Church in Kentucky that voted recently to not allow interracial couples to join as members.  Sure, they could come to worship, but they couldn’t participate in any services unless it was a funeral.  I’m not sure why that matters to the church, why a funeral is different than regular Sunday worship or baptisms or marriages.  But it apparently does.  And they want you to know, of course, that they’re not racist! They’re just… this isn’t appropriate.  Or something.

It took me a while to calm down.  It boggles my mind that in 2011 we are still having these discussions, even in rural Kentucky appalachia. What’s even more disgusting is that 9 people voted for this, 6 people voted against, and approximately 25 other people in attendance “abstained” from voting at all.  I’m sorry, is this a convoluted gray issue? Are you too chicken-shit to call out your “brothers in Christ” on their crazy stupid idea that some of us are “more” or “better” Children of G-d than others, based on pigmentation levels in skin?  I guess the one benefit of stumbling across this article is that it provides excellent ammunition for the next person I meet who denies that racism is still alive and well in this country.

But then, I realize another of my friends posted this article from the Atlantic about an ad campaign airing “in at least five American communities that warn Israeli expatriates that they will lose their identities if they don’t return home.”  Okay.  Fair enough.  The pressure to assimilate can be strong, I get that, and we ARE two different cultures and societies.  But then I actually watched the videos.  I’ll let them speak for themselves:

(I guess the one small benefit is that I could read 75% of the Hebrew on the screen and understood about half of it.)  This Yom HaZikaron ad is at once hilarious and perplexing.  The male actor looks nothing like 90% of Jewish young adult men I’ve met in my life (save the Renewal crew in the Berkeley area…), what with his long pony tail and awkward accent and intonation when speaking in English.  And why is this guy supposed to read her mind? Why is she not capable of saying “Hey, you know what, I’m not all that interested in hanging out with friends tonight.  Today is Israel’s Memorial Day, and I always feel sad about all the lives that were lost in the wars and how my cousin was affected by his time in the IDF. Can we just stay home and let me have some space?”

Instead, this ad makes it seem like American significant others are deliberately obtuse or that Israelis live on some other planet and are alien creatures that are impossible to relate to.

I’m sorry, but what?! If little Nuraleh doesn’t understand the significance of Chanukah (and of COURSE the government chose the holiday specifically about assimilation!), isn’t that the fault of the “will always remain Israeli” parents?  The parents who haven’t taught their Jewish daughter enough about Judaism or Jewish identity?  I know plenty of Jewish kids in America who wouldn’t fail that “test” administered by the grandparents. But once again, no, it’s our American Jewish culture and education that’s inadequate, not at all the precious Israeli parents.

It’s a backhanded slap in the face to American Jews and I can’t believe the Israeli government ever thought this was a good idea. Klal Yisrael and Am Israel! Right?! Not.

I think I’ll just copy and paste the last paragraph of the Atlantic article here to finish my thoughts on the matter:

These government-sponsored ads suggest that it is impossible for Jews to remain Jewish in America. How else are we supposed to understand the “Christmas” ad? Obviously, assimilation and intermarriage are issues in America in ways they aren’t in Israel. Israel has other problems of course, such as the fact that many of its rabbis act like Iranian mullahs. (I’m not even going to try to unpack my complicated beliefs about intermarriage and assimilation and life in the Diaspora here; that’s for a book. But let me just say that intermarriage can also be understood as an opportunity.)

The idea, communicated in these ads, that America is no place for a proper Jew, and that a Jew who is concerned about the Jewish future should live in Israel, is archaic, and also chutzpadik (if you don’t mind me resorting to the vernacular). The message is: Dear American Jews, thank you for lobbying for American defense aid (and what a great show you put on at the AIPAC convention every year!) but, please, stay away from our sons and daughters.

Temporary Jewish Record Store

I read an article in the Chronicle yesterday about a temporary record store that will set up shop in the Mission District for the month of December.  The man behind this project rented an art gallery and is turning it into a mid-century American living room to highlight Tikva Records.  I was not around when Tikva Records existed, but the article summarizes it as:

“…the flagship independent Jewish record label of 20th century America. Founded in 1947, Tikva’s catalog was wide-ranging; everything from Israeli folk songs to Jewish-American swing, from klezmer pop to cantorial singing, from Catskills comedy to key political speeches of Jewish leaders- and it became something of a “Jewish Motown”, home to the Jewish music world’s biggest names.”

which sounds pretty cool to me (not that I fully embrace the titles of history buff and nerd/geek or anything).  From the website, it sounds like this man tracked down the original recordings and artists over the last decade, raising the funds to restore them and recording some of their stories.  Talk about a labor of love. 

They have a website where you can listen to some of the remastered tracks, purchase albums, and find out what events are going on in the store.  I already ordered two albums, one of the label’s “best of” from over the decades and one of a Jewish-Latin combo (could that BE any more perfect for me? Creo que no!)

So, if you’re in the area, looking for something to do on a weekend, love mid-Century decor, or are simply interested in cultural interaction and Jewish American history, I suggest you check it out!

 

Confirmation Code

I went to my coworkers’ daughter’s Bat Mitzvah a few weeks ago.  I was one of three people from his work that was invited, so I made a special effort to attend.  Five minutes in, I knew that this was going to be a loooooong Shabbat morning service. It was so Reform-y that I think it was a shock to my system.  And deep, resounding, confirmation: oh yeeaaaaaaah, this is why I left years ago and never looked back.*

Many years ago, when I was still a young padawan, I went to a Reform synagogue.  They were the ONLY national (liberal Jewish) organization at the time with a thorough website section devoted to conversion.  They had outreach programming, they had classes, they, on the national level, looked like they actually gave a poo about us.  (10 years later and despite the wonderful website overhaul, Conservative Judaism still looks like they could care less about us while they eagerly attempt to court every independent minyan, excuse me, I mean kehilla..  It’s attrocious.)

Feeling so welcomed into their communities, I was a happy camper.  For every Shabbat in a 5-month period in Texas, for a whole school year in NY, for the better part of a year in the East Bay, it worked out okay for me for a while. 

But three or four years in, I realized I was unhappy.  I realized that I wasn’t happy there, not so much that I wasn’t happy with Judaism.  So I bravely went to the scary Conservatives!  You know, those crazy people that didn’t even marry GLBT couples at the time.

And holy Moshe, talk about a difference. I’ve loved every single dingle service since.

I do not like organs or choirs or cantors.  I do not like Friedman-esque singing/clapping permeating the services as though we’re at summer camp singing kumbaya.  I do not like rabbis dressed to look like Protestant denominations with a thin stole-like tallit around a black robe.  I do not like an oneg with dairy and meat out at the same time.  I do not like 5 minute long introductory explanations of each part of the service before singing only the first two lines of that portion of the service and moving on to the next introductory explanation.  (Seriously, at my first Conservative Kabbalat Shabbat, I closed my siddur after saying minofet tzuf v’chol ta-am.  What, you mean there’s more to Yedid Nefesh? Crazy talk!)  I do not like knowing more Hebrew than was ever used in the service.*

Do I think these represent all Reform congregations everywhere? No. Absolutely not.  There’s too many of them, with too many rabbis and too many communities for this to be wholly representative (or at least I tell myself this daily).  But these things did make my skin crawl and I eventually had to say enough is enough. No more.

So then I tried Conservative.  And it was exactly what I wanted, like Goldilocks’ porridge.  Mussaf, full kriah, kippot AND tallitot, tefillin, Hebrew…. AND women and men on the bimah with no mechitzah.  Woot.  Score.

(*Some of my Reform readers and friends may be feeling pood on right about now.  That’s not my intent.  These things make MY skin scrawl, but they make YOURS toss off your shoes, put up your feet and go, “aaaaah, home!”)

I don’t even

Mikvah Burrito. Imagine my surprise when I looked at my blog stats this morning and this awesomely weird phrase was listed as the third most popular search term that delivers internet visitors to my blog. (The first and second are jewsbychoice.org and Jewish San Francisco. Perfectly reasonable search terms.)

I’m now trying to imagine water and tile in a ginormous tortilla wrapped in foil.

Stolen from Jewminicana: “Talking to Converts”

I stumbled upon this post on B’Tzelem Elohim last month and totally forgot to post it.  I think it should be required reading for all members of the tribe. 

Don’t ask.
The number one question you want to ask a convert is exactly the question you shouldn’t. Asking someone why they converted, just after meeting them, is a little like asking to see their underwear. It’s like you’re asking us to get very naked about something deeply personal when we’ve just met. Like anything else, wait until you really get to know someone before expecting them to bare their souls. People will often let you see the skeletons in their closets when they’re comfortable with you.

Don’t tell.
If a convert does tell you about her conversion, that doesn’t mean it’s your story to tell. My friend Danielle says her former roommate told everyone Danielle was a convert. Danielle didn’t want people to know (and no, not because she was embarrassed about it). It just wasn’t her roommate’s story to tell. I know you’re wondering, “Why can’t I tell someone that Danielle is a convert, it’s a fact!” Remember how Judaism feels about gossip? What if people were discussing your personal business behind your back without your permission? Indeed, the Talmud (Bava Metzia 58b-59b) forbids us from oppressing converts by treating them as anything other than a regular member of the tribe.

Remember, no one looks like a convert.
“James William? That’s not a very Jewish name!” People of color and blondes with oh-so-blue eyes, the “exotic” faces in the Ashkenazi Jewish fold, frequently get questions like this that try to get around directly asking, “Are you a convert?” In The Color of Jews, Yavilah McCoy, whose ancestors were converts, says, “When I walk into a room and say to people I meet ‘I’m Jewish’ often I will get the response ‘but you’re Black.'” Since when are the two mutually exclusive? People often make offensive racial assumptions about Jews (and converts) of color. Just like we’re not all named Rosenberg, one convert of color says it’s helpful to note that “Judaism is not a ‘race’ of white people. One of the things people should be mindful of is not to assume all people of color in the synagogue are converts (or the help, for that matter).”

Converts are not therapists.
The worst is when “Why did you convert?” turns into “Why would anyone convert to Judaism?”
We’re converts, not therapists. We’re not here to help you figure out why you can’t imagine that people would find Judaism so amazing that they’d turn their lives upside down just to be a part of it. If you’re staring at us in disbelief, you may not be prepared to hear the answers.

It wasn’t for marriage.
After I met my husband midway through the conversion process, I noticed that people stopped asking me why I had decided to convert. They just assumed I was doing it for him. Okay, but I’m off the hook, right? I wasn’t part of a couple when I first made my decision so obviously I did it for the right reasons? Wrong, wrong, wrong. Just because someone is or was in a relationship doesn’t mean that they’re converting for marriage. Things are always way more complicated than that.

People convert for many reasons. My friend Vilma says, “Often people assume someone converted due to marriage. As if people couldn’t make up their independent minds to join a faith! There are people with whom Judaism resonates and [they] find their home in the religion. There are single people who convert. There are people who convert to reclaim their family heritage. There are so many reasons people convert.” And remember, none of them are any of your business.

Goy jokes are not funny.
But one reason that frequently gets thrown around and isn’t very nice, and doesn’t work so well for someone from a non-Jewish family, is the idea that we converted to Judaism because Jews are just better than everyone else. One fellow told me that all that inbreeding has led to all those Nobel Prize winners. So, what, I’m polluting the sacred bloodlines? Sadly, people don’t think twice about whether a convert is sitting in their midst when they tell the latest “How many goyim does it take to put in a light bulb?” joke.

 Words like shiksa and shaygetz, both derivations of dirty in Yiddish, don’t make converts feel welcome either. (And note from MikvahBound, if you call me shiksa, especially to my face, I can’t promise to control my fist very well as it lands in your face.) Blondes with blue eyes, converts or not, tend to hear these words more often than converts like me with olive skin and big brown eyes. Still, my first Pesah went south after someone repeatedly threw the word shiksa around along with some other ugly words about non-Jews. At the first bar mitzvah I attended jokes about non-Jews were flying all over the place.

And don’t forget to say, “You’re welcome.”
There are things I still can’t believe people have said to me. Fresh out of the mikvah, I heard, “But you’re not really Jewish. I mean I’m still more Jewish than you, right?” Oy vey. In the end, all converts want to be accepted as good Jews. We want to fit in. Possibly the reason Jewish tradition goes out of its way to tell you to be kind to us is that there are so many ways you can make us feel left out. It only takes one insensitive word. So, be careful with us. Changing our lives to join your ranks should at the very least earn us a little respect. And maybe even a “Welcome home.”

LaShon Hara: or How I Learned to Shut my Pie Hole (Again, but Probably Not for the Last Time)

I sat in my boss’ office yesterday, recording some tasks she wanted me to get done today while she is out.  She noticed my necklace and asked what it meant. 

When I converted, my bff purchased a silver, 1” Möbius band pendant with the first line of the Shema in English and Hebrew.  She thought it was just geeky enough, just Jewish enough for me.  She was right.  I’ve worn it just about every day since, and often fiddle with it when lost in thought.

I explained how it was supposed to represent the Jewish conception of G-d, particularly Echad. 

“Oh. That’s so cool! You know, [Gal that I’m really close to and that used to supervise you] converted to Judaism a while back and I had the hardest time finding an appropriate gift. That would have been perfect! Instead some Jewish neighbor of mine told me to get her a … a Ten… a Tan… a book.”

“The Tanakh.  It’s our holy text.”

And off I went with the rest of my day, thinking nothing of it until I got to lunch and shared my news with said bff. “Hey, did you know Former Boss Lady converted?! Isn’t that cool?!”

“Where’d you hear that?” Her tone told me something …that there was something there she couldn’t decide to expand upon or to ignore.

“Oh ,um Boss Lady.”

“Look, you can’t tell any one this, but she was engaged to a Jewish man. She converted for him. Conservative. They broke up.  A few years later, her sister asked her to be G-dmother to her nephew.  In the Catholic Church.  So she de-converted.”

And this, ladies and gentlemen, is why Judaism has prohibitions against lashon hara, commonly translated as gossip, but really much larger in scope than I could ever explain here in a single post.

Because as soon as I heard this, I lost some respect for Former Boss Lady.  Because I was angry at her for making us gerim look back by fulfilling one of the most pervasive stereotypes about us.

Who converts for marriage alone?!  Like seriously, if you’re only doing this to appease your future spouse, or the in-laws, stop. It’s not fair to you and it’s not fair to Judaism or the process.  And what kind of sponsoring rabbi could not sense this during the conversion process?!  Would allow two other colleagues to sit on a bet din and risk their reputations for such a candidate?

And it made me angry.  I cannot count how many times I’ve had to explain, NO, I did NOT convert for a man.  Nope, until 7 months ago, there was no Jewish male in my life.  I was doing this on my own accord.  I was doing this for ever, for me. That I’m binding myself to this people, and my children’s children to this people, that even if some hypothetical Jewish husband left me, Judaism would never.  It could never.

All of this went through my head in a matter of seconds.  I should seriously get me a black robe and a job at the local courthouse because wow, Judgey McJudgerson-ette made quite an appearance in those few seconds.

I have no idea what went on in her life, what she experienced, what her priorities or values are.  They are not mine, and that’s okay.  I should be humble, compassionate, and assume that she was doing the best she could, with what she had.  That’s one consequence of talking about stuff that’s not my business.

The second is that now I’m dying to know.  It’s like a drill in my head.  I will never ask her the questions rumbling in the background because I have been socialized by this society successfully, but now I will always want to KNOW.  It’s like a pest, like the mosquito from some African  folk tales, buzzing in your ear.  It invites FURTHER sources of bad things into my life: more gossip, more potential to judge, more potential for impatience.  It’s a cycle.  I need to get off this merry-go-round.