Cupcakes, Movies, and Progress

If you are converting or have converted to Judaism, you probably know of Rabbi Andrea Myers (or you may have seen her book listen on my "What I've Read" page). If you have not, and you want to convert to Judaism, please google her immediately. Then get on Amazon and buy her book. Seriously, go. She will be 100x more helpful to you than this blog ever will be.

Anyway, there are two rabbis at Hillel who see me all the time who haven't talked to me as much as Rabbi Andrea. And she's never even met me. We live hundreds of miles from each other and most likely will never meet. If that's not fantastic then I don't know what is. But her knowledge is beyond helpful because she knows things that born Jews just do not (and converts who had a super easy time converting). She can explain why it is that my mother says "Judaism" and "Jewish" so strangely. She can explain what my parents are thinking about when they say things, or don't say things, and what I have to look forward to. She took the time to found out what my parents' Jewish interactions would be by asking other rabbis about the city they live in.

Turns out, my mother is worried about the stereotypes that other people will project onto me once I become a Jew. Honestly, I thought for a while my mom might be a secret antisemite. I like Rabbi Andrea's explanation much better. I guess that is a legitimate concern for a parent to have. I know that Jewish parents have similar concerns so it's not so out there. But the thing is, according to my dad, there isn't much antisemitism going on in my home town. My dad said he has encountered racism and homophobia but never antisemitism. Where is my mother getting her ideas about antisemitism from? I do not know. I just know it's weird for her to deal with the prospect of a Jewish daughter.

One day, Rabbi Andrea says, they will get over these things and start accepting it. They'll start asking super strange questions and cutting out Israel articles and talking to me about them. My mom is still really awkward at the mention of anything Jewish, but two weeks ago she called me to tell me about a special on TV she watched. It was about Tel Aviv. When I went home last weekend, my dad wanted to watch a "Jewish movie" with me (score!). When he proposed this, I offered him a "Jewish cupcake" (brought home leftovers from Hillel shabbat dinner) and he said, "those aren't Jewish cupcakes!" and I said, "Yes, they are. They're kosher." Then he ate one. (bonding over food, score #2.) We attempted to watch Exodus (the one from Europe, not Egypt). But since my dad still lives in the 80s and has this movie on Laserdisc, it didn't really happen. The player died 25 minutes into the movie. He is going to order on DVD and we'll attempt it again this summer. This might not seem like a big deal, but my dad loves movies. Watching a movie with him is like the ultimate bonding experience. The fact that he wants to watch Jewish movies with me is a tremendous jump from Easter.

The thing with my dad is, he can get super mad about things. Then when he calms down and starts thinking about things he can be very cool. It makes his growth in acceptance seem really big. Well, it is really big. But compared to my mom who didn't say much three months ago his change is really noticeable. I have no idea what kind of growth in acceptance is happening with my mother because she doesn't express herself. She kind of sucks at communicating on anything serious. She can have a ten minute conversation on the weather but five minutes on something real is a rare occasion. I don't know what's going on in her head right now. I know she told me about Tel Aviv but that's all that's happened with her in the last three months. But with my dad, things are pretty good in my eyes.

However, when things are weird or bad I have this advice from Rabbi Andrea as the silver lining: insanity + time = book :) Read hers and you'll understand...

A Reflection

The school year is almost over, and it's time for reflection. I have been going to Hillel for over a year. I feel like I've grown a lot in that time, but in some ways still feel like I am at square one. I go to Hillel Friday night shabbat services most weeks and go there a lot during the week, usually to eat. I've been to reform and orthodox shuls and all three kinds of services. I've still never been to a conservative shul, though. I know the standard reform service and am working on conservative. I can read Hebrew. I've read all of Jewish Literacy (and if you know the book, you know it's a shlep to get through it), as well as This is My G-d, half of To Be  A Jew, and I'm partially through at least seven other books on Judaism (please see What I'm Reading). At least an hour of my day is spent reading Jewish blogs or Jewish information online. I try not to do that on shabbat out of respect (plus the fact that some of them go off line on shabbat). I am about to take my third Jewish studies class in the fall. I study Torah. I have read half of the Tanakh and plan to make a dent in the rest this summer.  I recently made the decision to cut out all pork (it was down to just bacon anyway) and seafood. I kept Passover and the Yom Kippur fast.

So what does all of this mean? Well, it seems, if anything, I've developed a Jewish identity. It's a little scary. But it's also really cool. Also starting to accumulate a Jewish wardrobe (ya know, Jew tshirts). But most important (I think), I no longer feel the Catholic identity projected onto me. I've shed that completely and I know that that was the single most important element to moving on in my life. Even if I wanted to be a Universalist or something, I still would have had to completely rid myself of that conflicting identity. Even though I didn't believe in or practice Catholicism, I was still hurting all the time when I felt Catholic projected on me. Now I don't feel that happening, ever. I don't get so upset anymore to learn about the mishaps of the Church (which happen quite frequently as you all know). There is such freedom to that. With that gone, there is lots of room for a Jewish identity to fill in. I know I have the rest of my life for that to happen and for the identity to develop and change, but I imagine the bulk will happen in the next year or two. And I'm really freaking excited.

I have plans to find a rabbi this summer, in addition to several other Jewish goals. But I mostly want to find a rabbi (or two) so I can learn more. My parents asked me not to study with a rabbi until I graduate college, but I have kind of plateaued with my Jewish learning and it is very frustrating. I have to learn more. Learning continually, incessantly is how I got here and I have no intentions of stopping. It was Confucius who said it matters not how slowly you go so long as you do not stop. I cannot stop learning, for then that means I stop living. Who knows when I'll actually convert but I have to continue learning. It is the Jewish way, after all.

Nonconformity

This is a sister post to the one earlier today. It is meant to answer that discussion question, when do you not conform? Well, I stopped conforming the minute I decided I would never set foot in a Catholic church again. I didn't conform when I told my mom I wanted to leave the Church like my aunt did. I didn't conform when I went to Hillel for the first time, or the second time or the third time. I didn't conform when I met with a rabbi just to talk. And on and on.

It seems rather trite that I would even discuss nonconformity in a blog like this. The whole concept centers around nonconformity. But the truth is, I've never really been able to conform fully. Everywhere I went, every group I found myself in there was always one little piece of me that didn't quite fit. Whether I was with the cheerleaders, or the honors kids, or the art kids, or the Christians, or the atheists, I just didn't fully fit. I could never conform - not because I didn't want to, but because I literally couldn't. Something in me kept me from remaining the slightest bit different.

There will always be times when I feel different, times when I have to suppress an opinion or two so I don't cause problems, or times when I have to suppress a part of my personality. But it sucks if those times are all the time. There were very few completely safe spaces for me growing up, and for a while in college I wasn't sure if I would find another one. The total, complete, no-bullshit truth is, that space is with my Jewish friends. I can be totally open and free with them. And they are - for all intents and purposes - my Jewish community. It's good to be nerdy and know a lot of things. It's normal to be sarcastic and funny. Making mistakes, laughing, and being philosophical all in one sitting is a regular occurrence. I am at home with them whether or not I am technically Jewish. The best part is, though, that I don't feel like I am conforming or have to conform to anything. I am just being.

I am comfortable here and now even if it makes other people uncomfortable that I am not conforming to other standards.

Conformity

Last night I went to another Dinner and Dialogue at Hillel. And again I did not say the meaningful things I was thinking during the discussion. One day, perhaps, I will be brave enough to say these things in the moment, but until then, I have this blog. The discussion was on conformity: when do you conform? when should you conform? when should you not? I gave some generic and pretty lame responses. They were real responses but just not as profound as what I could have said.

In the time before I came to school, I had a vision about what college would be like, what the other kids would be like. I expected open-minded, free-spirited atheists, agnostics, and generally non-religious people. For some reason, I figured no one in college would be religious because we'd all left our parents houses and that's where religion came from. None of the college kids I saw on TV were religious. And obviously TV is a reflection of reality.

I was quite shocked to find myself surrounded by devout Christians. Some of them were even Evangelical. People asked me to go to church with them, and when I declined, I was deemed an outsider. It didn't bother me much at the beginning of the year. But then as people got to know each other better, they started discussing politics. And with politics comes the discussions of abortion, gay marriage, and the like. I couldn't believe how many kids on my floor were pro-life and against marriage equality. Even if I wasn't actually outnumbered, I felt outnumbered. I was an outsider for sure. I had to keep silent and conform to their standards. I didn't like it.

What's worse was when everyone wanted to label me. So and so was a Methodist, what's-her-face Catholic, that one guy Russian Orthodox. So what was I? Well you've got an Italian last name so you must be Catholic. They put me in that box and I couldn't seem to get out. So I let that be my identity for a while, because that's what other people were comfortable with. The thing is, most of the people who put me in that box were not Catholics themselves and carry with them all the negative things about Catholics with them. So do I. So when they would make jokes, I would make them too. My humor is already rather self-deprecating so knocking myself for being a really bad Catholic was easy. Other Catholics - good Catholics - don't like that. They especially don't like it when they sense you're a non-believer. Good Catholics are not fond of bad Catholics conforming, which might seem antithetical to the idea of Catholicism, but it's true.

Technically, I could have kept that Catholic identity as long as I wanted. I could have conformed to what I was "supposed" to be, with the Italian last name and all. I was confirmed and no one can really take that rite away. But there was no way I could have permanently conformed. I was in a new place and in a new time in my life. It made sense to conform in the moment, but once I was removed from that dorm and those people, it didn't make sense anymore. Hell, without those people forcing me to conform I probably never would have set foot in a church in college. I don't know if that's a good or a bad thing. It just is. I don't regret anything in my life, but I am so freaking glad I stopped conforming. It was terribly unfulfilling.

Learning Torah

A while back the Hillel rabbi decided the next step in my Jewish education was to find someone to learn Torah with. Right after that one of my close friends suggested we study Torah together. Perfect! We started learning together a few weeks ago and it is honestly my new favorite pastime. The friend I learn with has studied at Pardes in Israel so he's basically a Torah scholar (jokes). But he is experienced and has a good approach that really works for me.

We take turns reading through the parsha out loud: he reads from the Artscroll translation and I read from the JPS translation. Neither of us really knows Hebrew so the different translations help us understand what may or may not be going on in the original text. We note tense changes, repetition of words, and other oddities to decipher what is really going on in the portion.

It takes about 2 and a half hours for us to learn the whole parsha, and that two and a half hours is usually the highlight of my week. We discuss theology, history, rhetoric, math, evolution, personal experiences and more as a result of just a few chapters in the Torah. It is incredible. After our sessions, I swear, I literally feel my mind expand. I think I expected Torah study to be cumbersome, like analyzing Shakespeare for an English class, but it isn't. It's uplifting. It relieves pressure from life somehow, rather than adding. This is what it means that the Torah is a gift.

I don't have much else to say except that Torah study has been the most meaningful addition to my Jewish experience. Every week when we conclude I look forward to the next session and wonder what will happen next. It makes me want to learn more and more. It truly is a driving force in my progression of a full Jewish identity.

It gets beautiful

So, this might seem a little dense at first. But I had a major breakthrough lately. This is something I've always known, but I've never really known. It took a long time to realize it but I feel like I've reached a new phase in my journey because of it.

Jews can be bad people.

All people can be bad people. Righteousness nor immorality are limited to or from any group. Whether it's the Haredi in Israel forcing women to the back of the bus, sexual abuse in the Ultra-Orthodox communities in New York, Orthodox Jews excluding converts and children from converts from the community, anyone excluding LGBTQs or Jews of color, rabbis abusing potential converts, or anything else you can think of, Jews can be just as mean or misbehaved as the next (non Jewish) person.

But I still want to be Jewish. Today, I can firmly say that. And now, for the first time in my life, I understand why people remain Catholic in spite of its antisemitic, oppressive, homophobic, sexual abuse history and current affairs. For so long I was frustrated by people who seemed to ignore these things and stay in a religion that to me mistreats people and disregards people on the margins. But people don't stay Catholic because they're OK with these things. They stay Catholic because of the religion. They connect to spiritual and intellectual things that no child-abusing priest can get in the way of. Now I get it.

I never wanted to be a part of Catholicism not because of the history and the abuse, but because there is no connection for me. With no connection to the religion, what is there for me? If I don't connect to the spiritual aspect of Catholicism, I sure as hell ain't gonna connect to the hierarchy and patriarchy that excludes women from all leadership and LGBTQ fully participation, obviously things that bother me. There is simply no place for me, and I'm OK with that.

Some Jews can really turn Judaism ugly. They use it for their own purposes. They interpret the halacha in an outdated way to exclude people and to stunt the evolution of the Jewish people. But, my G-d, Judaism can be so beautiful. It's not up to other Jews how my Judaism turns out. I see my friends Judaism and it is beautiful. Mine will be too. While the Jews who mistreat others and justify it using Jewish tradition and law, I am not going to let them stop me from seeing the traditions differently. My Judaism will be just as open and liberal as I am now. The connection I feel to G-d and Judaism will not be hindered by others.

My connection to my father and Catholic/Christian friends and anyone else won't be hindered anymore either. Because now I know what it's like. I know what it's like to be drawn to something in spite of the errors of others who've been a part of the same religion. We're all human and can only do so much. We can't change major institutions in a year or two. Hell, we can't even change them over a lifetime. And I can't be upset with people for being a part of a religion that I see as outdated.

Now my life is a little brighter and a little happier because I see where I am going clearly for the first time. No one is going to get in the way of that.

Atheist

I want to discuss atheists. Religious people like to ignore atheists, pray for them, or argue with them. Not that I consider myself religious, but I think these options kind of sucks. I think atheists/agnostics/skeptics/freethinkers are freakin' awesome. Honestly. I really appreciate the atheist perspective on life because I used to be there, and in many ways I still am. I never accept anything at face value. I am not a fan of just accepting "G-d's plan," and luckily for me, neither are Jews.

When I was around 15-16, I identified as agnostic. I explained to people that I believed there was probably something higher but there was no way of knowing. Much of this stemmed from the fact that I recognized that I didn't fit in with Christians. Because I am so math oriented, I tended to create little proofs in my head that eventually led to me finding that G-d does, in fact, exist. I always began with the premise that G-d did not exist and evaluated many of my experiences, things like my brother's military life, my aunt's sickness and ultimate survival, the wonder in my niece's eyes, and the beauty of the world. Every way I went, G-d not existing didn't allow for these things. After so long, I knew that the gut feeling I had was right and I had used a logical path to determining this. In mathematics, this is known as a proof by contradiction: start with the opposite of what you want to prove and produce a contradiction, showing that what you originally wanted must be true.

Atheists question everything, and I still find that to be very much a part of who I am. Atheists don't attempt to explain things (like earthquakes) by saying it's some message from G-d (like that the government needs to get a better budget, ehem, Michelle Bachmann). I don't attempt to do so either. I just accept that natural disasters and the weather occur because of various conditions that science can explain for us. I do believe G-d ultimately controls it, but I'm not going to get mad at an atheist for saying "no, He doesn't." What difference does it make? None of us can control it anyway.  I just cannot comprehend life without G-d, which is where atheists and I part ways.

I get the sense from some people - and yes, many of them are Christians - that you must believe in G-d to get His help. Well, that doesn't sound like an all-loving G-d to me. Unlike those people (some of them are my friends) I don't believe that G-d abandons people who don't believe in him. I believe that G-d helps people whether or not they acknowledge his presence. I mean, before Abraham figured out that G-d is G-d and those other gods are fakes, did no good things happen to people? No, G-d has always been there taking care of people, changing things, and creating things. The universe is billions of years old, so there's no way we can say G-d didn't care about  and love things until people started to worship Him 4,000 years ago. This is clearly demonstrated by all of the amazing atheist/skeptic thinkers out there making our world a better place. G-d didn't smite them or abandon because He still loves them and appreciates there work.

Sometimes I forget that not all Jews believe in G-d. But I am often reminded by one person or another and you know what? This is honestly one of the greatest things about Judaism. Even though some would disagree, there is still room for people who don't believe in G-d in this great, old tradition. It's very reassuring when I am struggling trying to figure out where I belong. Many Jews though do not find atheism a threat to Judaism since the Jewish tradition is based on questioning, fueled by doubt in many ways. One can take on an entire atheist mind set and be completely comfortable in the Jewish tradition.

Welcome the Stranger

In case you haven't read it a zillion other times on other Jewish convert blogs, don't call someone a shiksa. Period. End of story. There's no arguing. It's offensive. It derives from the Yiddish word for dirty and is meant to slur non-Jewish women who are dating or could one day date  Jewish guys and thus produce a non Jewish children. These women pull men away from Judaism and the Jewish community. Therefore, they ruin the Jewish community. Well, it's 21st century America now so this concept isn't the same as it once was in Eastern Europe. But it's still an offense term. Don't use it.

A girl I spend a good deal of time with likes to use it a lot. She's not really my friend. She's friends of my friends and we also work on Holocaust Awareness stuff together. And she's a fairly offensive person in general so I'm not that surprised by it. What I am always surprised by is the number of other Jews who say nothing to her. I said something to a friend once, along the lines of "Why does she think that's OK?" "Because Jews say it all the time." Oh, really? And that makes it OK? If white people start saying the n-word a lot does that make it OK? Oh, wait, plenty still do, and guess what? Still not OK. It just blows my mind that my friends who would be equally offended at someone slurring a black person, a hispanic person, a Muslim, a Christian as if they themselves as Jews were slurred, are perfectly fine with someone slurring a non Jewish woman.

This same girl who likes the word shiksa a lot also made up a fun new way to describe me: a Jew groupie. "Mary's such a Jew groupie. Hahahahaha." Do you see me laughing? No. Do you see my friends laughing? Yes.

Let me explain. I love my Jewish friends. A whole freaking lot. I meet lots of Jews I like and Judaism is awesome. But. I. Am. Not. A. Jew. Groupie. Jews are fantastic in many, many ways. But I in no way intend to follow them around, bother them, ask for autographs, or throw my underwear at them. I will not faint if I touch a Jew and don't spend a great deal of time fantasizing about meeting Jews. Why? Because Jews are normal people, and if I want to be one, I can freaking be one. It's very demeaning to call someone who's working to become a Jew, a Jew groupie. I hang out with Jews because I like them. They're my friends. And I love Judaism a great deal. That does not give anyone the right to call me a groupie or be rude to me because they're a Jew and I'm not.

There is a reason it's a mitzvah to welcome the stranger. We have a hard enough time finding our way into the community. Don't make it harder, please. You might be fascinated by us, but don't be rude. You don't have a right to call us names (shiksa or otherwise) or ask inappropriate questions. These questions include but are not limited to:

• What are you doing here [at this synagogue, Jewish event, Jewish place]?
• Oh you're not Jewish? So you're Christian? You love Jesus and all that?
• Are you converting to Judaism?
• Why are you converting to Judaism?
• When are you converting to Judaism?
• You're converting? So you have Jewish boyfriend?
• Do you want to convert because you have a Jewish boyfriend?

I realize that these are based on my experience but I am pretty sure you could replace boyfriend with girlfriend and represent many other people's experiences. If you have a friend who is converting and he or she opens up to you, then you could ask the questions. Ask them in a much more sensitive way. And if you're Jewish and you know someone who is converting, you don't have any right to know why. It's deeply personal. Would you open up to someone about losing your virginity? Same kind of personal. If someone shares with you, be honored because it is very hard to put into words. It's hard to explain a connection to G-d that's driving you to do something because G-d is beyond comprehension. People converting to Judaism convert for many of the same reasons you embrace your own Jewish identity. We love Judaism for the same reasons you do. And remember:

Speech has power. Words do not fade. What starts out as a sound, 
ends in a deed. -Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel

Pesach

I love Passover. Honestly, I was a little unsure about going all out on Passover with so much turmoil in my life between telling my parents and having them be super weird and spending too much time at Hillel for my job, but I am so glad I did it the way I did it. A few days before it started, my friend and I went to the Jewish part of town to shop for food at Kroger and got stocked up. I did the Ashkenazim custom because that is what most of my friends do. So we got our matza, matza ball soup mix, and our kosher for Passover wine and were good to go.

I didn't go to Hillel for seder either night, which I think turned out to be a good choice even if I did miss some of my friends. It's hard enough for people to be serious and stop talking on shabbat for kiddush and motzi that I can't imagine how distracted I'd be for a several hour long dinner. On Friday night, a friend invited me to this woman's apartment who took Hebrew with him at the university through the 60+ program. She likes to invite college kids for sedarim who can't go home. She and her husband belong to an Orthodox shul but aren't actually Orthodox. There were about 19 people there. After lighting shabbat and yom tov candles we sat down to our assigned seats (yes, there were name cards) and began the seder. A five year old girl stood up on her chair and sang the four questions all by herself. It was incredible. My friend brought her toys of the ten plagues and she kept us entertained the whole night. The friend I went with is the same friend who taught me to read Hebrew over winter break and I was so grateful to him for that. I had a hard enough time keeping up with them skipping around in the Hebrew. I probably wouldn't have enjoyed it at all if I wouldn't have been able to follow along. Honestly the seder was so fun and the food was so delicious. When it ended I couldn't wait for the next seder.

For the second night I went with the same friend but to a different location. He invited me to his uncle's house which is only an hour away from my parents so it was an easy transition to go home for Easter. This seder was straight up Orthodox. There was a "shabbos goy" there as a waitress and everything was in Hebrew. We did havdallah around 8:30 and finally got started on the 5 hour seder (oy). Everyone had the choice of reading in Hebrew but if the guy leading knew you and knew you could read Hebrew, he pretty much made you read in Hebrew. I was among the three people who read their paragraph in English. Even though the Seder was super long, it was fun because of all the conversation and debating and singing. This family had such interesting customs. For example, the youngest and the oldest person in the room sing the four questions together. So the leader's daughter sat on her grandma's lap (also a Holocaust survivor) and they sang together. It was really cool. And in between every section of the seder, they sing the ten parts of the seder to different tunes. Once, we sang it to the tune of "take me out to the ball game" another time to "America the beautiful," to pay tribute to the freedom America offers Jews so they don't have to pray in secret.  I would have never gotten to see any of these kinds of customs at Hillel.

I had so many matza balls that weekend and they were 100x better than the ones at Hillel. I was in heaven. Anyways, after we ate there was a lot of singing and bouncing around and role playing (more at the second seder than at the first). Dayenu really is a fantastic prayer/song. Apparently, I've heard Eliyahu many times before at havdallah services but it never stuck with me until Passover. Now it's like my favorite song. It's so catchy.

What I really liked about these seders was that even though my friend told certain people in advance that I'm not Jewish, no one asked about it. No one asked me about converting, or my name being Mary, or if I had a Jewish boyfriend. Everyone just let me be and let me enjoy the holiday with them. I really appreciated that. Also, I made it through the whole second seder with some people thinking that I was Jewish. One older man after asked me about where I grew up and if there was a synagogue there. I told him that yes, there is a reform temple there. And he asked me if that's where I went growing up. I said well, no, I'm not Jewish. He said "What?? You not Jewish? But you can read Hebrew?" Apparently reading Hebrew is the key to one's Jewish identity. Good to know I'm off to a good start.

My other thoughts on the entire holiday of Passover: matza is only good for two days then it starts to taste absolutely disgusting. And only egg matza is tolerable. Nothing else. I liked making the sacrifice for G-d but I was so glad when I finally broke Passover. Seriously, it's a good thing this only comes once a year. I figure by next spring, I'll have forgotten how terrible a week without it was.

The Dad who was never OK with anything

My initial understanding of my dad's joke in the background of a phone call with my mom a few weeks ago with completely off base. I am not sure why I was so dumb as to believe he'd be accepting of a choice in my life, let alone one that involved becoming anything other than Catholic. My father and I have a complicated, painful relationship. He never really accepted my dedication to dance or to school or to community service or to anything, really. He's never accepted who I am. I'm not sure why I thought this would be different.

If you've read from the beginning, you know I have an older brother and no other siblings. A first born boy is all an Italian father could ever ask for. The son is always the most important. So when Italians have girls first, they always try for another kid. My uncle has four girls. Why? Because he was trying for a boy and never succeeded. My father succeeded on the first try, and that was enough for him. I was the kid who came later and wasn't really planned for. Girls don't carry on family names, don't play football, watch sports, or smoke cigars. They're no fun. Girls with fathers like my father, don't really get along with them. It's actually quite simple.

Except that it sucks. 

My parents are still married. I lived with my dad all 19 years before going off to college. Whenever I want to go home to see my mom, it means seeing my dad, too. And I hate that. Honestly, I prefer to shut him out entirely because the emotional roller coaster of hoping for good days or times then plummeting into fighting is far worse than the nothing I try to maintain.

My father went to Catholic school for 9 years: through the 8th grade. He's made it overwhelmingly clear to me in the last three weeks that even though he doesn't go to Church, he is still a Catholic and will always be a Catholic. And you just don't leave the Catholic Church. I get it. I get that he was raised a certain way and that he believed all of it and still believes most of it. But I don't. I didn't go to Catholic school. I didn't go to Church every day for the first part of my life. I eventually grew out of the fear of the devil and of going to hell. I don't carry those things with me; they just aren't a part of me. So I didn't have major forces holding me back from growing into my own faith. It just so happens that that faith fits right in with Judaism, a religion that very few people adhere to, a religion that most people just don't understand.

My dad surprisingly knows more about Jews and Judaism than my mom does. My grandpa went to an almost all Jewish high school so he knows a lot of the beliefs that most Christians don't (most important, why Jesus wasn't the messiah). But that doesn't change the fact that he doesn't want me to be Jewish. My dad thinks I should just accept that I have an "intellectual conflict in my head" about G-d and Jesus. What the hell does that even mean?

Oh, by the way, Easter was terrible.

Anyways, I told my parents I have tried and failed enough times to understand the cross that I am not going to do it anymore. It's not worth the pain and frustration. I tried for them, for my mom, for my brother, for my niece, but at some point, my mental and emotional health have to take priority. In the last year and a half, I've realized and decided that time has come. I will never go back to a Catholic Church for a long list of reasons, but I will not be a Christian because Christianity just doesn't make sense. If other people make it work in their heads, good for them, but I don't feel like I need to. I don't need to be saved. I'm good. Life is about learning, helping others, and enjoying it while you can. That's all I've ever needed, and, quite frankly, is what my mother raised me to believe. Even my dad told me that he can't stand ultra-religious, evangelical Christians. He keeps telling me he is going to un-friend the mother of my brother's best friend because she posts religious stuff a hundred times a day on Facebook. He thinks those kinds of people, who think only about religion and "depend entirely on G-d" are delusional. "I believe that G-d just said, 'be a good person'" my father tells me over the phone.

So why does is matter what religion I follow as long as I am a good person?

Conversations on Conversion, part 2

During our first talk about conversion, the rabbi said something interesting. So interesting that I decided it needs its own post. When we were discussion Christianity, my experiences with it and my currently feelings toward it, she said something to the affect of, "Don't be running from something. Well, you can but eventually be running toward something. We want you to be running toward Judaism." This is actually a great way to describe the process I think I am in the middle of. It reminded me of this article I read a while back about college kids converting to Judaism. Hillel rabbis have commented on the surprising number of students who approach them about conversion. Some rabbis don't think this is a good thing; they think that kids wanting to convert to Judaism is a response to fundamental Christianity. I think they couldn't be more wrong.

Converting to Judaism is not a reaction to the growing fundamentalism among conservative Christians. Militant atheism is. If I wanted to do the opposite of what evangelical Christians do, I would be an atheist skeptic. I would spend my time pointing out all of the inconsistencies in Christian scripture and theology. I would be a huge debbie downer about Christmas and mock Easter. That's not what I want. That doesn't sound very fulfilling to me. Yes, certain things about Christians drive me nuts. Yes, there are times I'd really like to point that out. But, what is the point? I will not change their minds. I can't waste time talking to people who won't listen. Converting to Judaism is its own unique journey that cannot be described as going in the opposite direction of Christianity.

I'll admit it: I've run from Christianity. I've run fast and hard, circled back, run some more and then sprinted out. For most of that time, I didn't know where I was running. I just kept going, kept wandering. I've traveled a lot of places to check out the scene, but I know that toward Judaism is where I'm headed. But I'm not running anymore. I'd say I'm walking at a slow pace, moseying, if you will. I'm taking my time getting there. But I keep checking back over my shoulder, making sure nothing is coming after me. Something might have followed me out when I ran from Christianity.

I'm taking my time with Judaism because I am afraid. I'm afraid of what will happen when the door is closed completely on Christianity. If I don't have closure - if that's what I even need - I'll never find peace in Judaism. I'm afraid of that small tug of betrayal I feel whenever I read about the current affairs of the Catholic Church. The biggest question I am dealing with now is, will that feeling ever go away? It's painful, and I'm tired of dealing with it.

Conversations on Conversion, part 1

Remember that rabbi who told me I need to change my name? who also happens to be a convert? I talked to her the other day. I didn't exactly want to, but she's about to pop out another kid. Once the baby comes, the next time I'll see her will be late August. I figured I'll just talk to her, ask her questions, get it over with because she's a resource whether or not I like it. Don't get me wrong - she's not terrible; just something doesn't click with us.

When I asked her to talk I said I wanted to ask her about her life, she really didn't understand what I was alluding to. Who would ever guess the non-Jewish girl who hangs out at Hillel might want to ask a convert the details of her conversion. I walk into her office and she asks me what's up, what do I want to talk about? I explained to her about talking to my mom, that I had carefully planned to talk to my mom separately from my dad incase he reacted badly, that I don't know what to do about my grandparents, and that it was super awkward. She replied "Yeah, it's weird. It's super weird." Yes, thanks for that. Anyways, I started asking her questions and finally she shared (some of) her conversion story. I mean, I've been waiting for months... Her situation is very, very different than mine.

Her parents are very relaxed. She didn't grow up in a very religious home and it really wasn't a big deal when she converted. She doesn't go to her parents house on Christmas or Easter or anything like that. She converted at a reform synagogue in town (she did her undergrad here). She doesn't care that the orthodox rabbi whose office is right next door probably doesn't consider her Jewish. She says at some point you just have to say f*ck it. She doesn't belong to a temple either, because Judaism "is about what you do in your house. You can daven in your living room and have Shabbos dinner and you're good. Synagogue life in America is dying out."

Honestly, that last part, which has little to do with conversion, was the most shocking to me. I was under the impression that the community was half the point of Judaism. I'm not sure how I feel about that. The reason I love going to Hillel is to see lots of people I wouldn't see in class or wouldn't really invite to my house. Then there's the actual prayer service. There really is something to praying in a group, which is why Judaism encourages communal prayer and only allows some prayers if there's a large enough group. I'm still digesting that information and trying to imagine doing a Jewish life without a synagogue. I think the reason she can get by like that is she has a whole cyberworld. She connects to tons of people through the internet in various ways. I use it to stay connected to people I already know and use email for school/business like stuff. I don't make too many new friends via the internet neither do I have meaningful conversations with many people via the internet. I don't think synagogue-free-Judaism would work great for me.

We actually did talk for a long time and it turned out to be helpful. When I asked her when and where she converted she started talking about my options. She said I should meet all the rabbis in town. She said I could work with her or another chick rabbi in town whose not a congregational rabbi. It was very nice of her to offer to work with me on conversion. I was really surprised by it, actually. I didn't know she liked me enough to be around me on a constant, regular basis. It's so hard to tell with her. But 1) I feel like that would be taking the easy way out by not "shopping around" to find the right rabbi and congregation and 2) I just don't think it would work well. She is totally fine with Christianity, like no issues whatsoever. And that's fantastic for her, it's just not my situation at all. I feel like she doesn't understand just from the brief conversation we had about church and Christianity. I don't just need a teacher, I need someone who can help me understand Christianity from a Jewish perspective and in a way that I don't get pissed off at Christians/Christianity all the time. I've definitely worked on that by myself over the past three years, but there are still certain things that get under my skin in - let's be perfectly honest - an unhealthy way. Also, she disappears sometimes, which I don't find promising for a teacher-student relationship. Not physically - well yes, sometimes physically - but mentally, emotionally. And she's very carefree and relaxed. I don't know, I guess I want my converting rabbi to be full of care and structured. Perhaps I am being too picky or unrealistic. Perhaps all the other Jews by choice out there have given me too much hope for what to expect.

In a more positive light, I would like it if she'd be there for me during the process, if I choose to begin while I'm still in school. I could see her as an additional resource/guide/teacher. And why shouldn't I want more help? I'm allowed to ask for that, right? Honestly, I'm just hopping that she really is having pregnancy mood swings and can be a regular person in my life next school year. I've never known her not pregnant so I can't figure out if what's happened in the last three to four months is baby-related or is her actual personality. I really hope it's the former.

In other news, some of my friends have already said they'd help with shul-shopping this spring so I hope that turns out well. There are three reform and two conservative shuls (also three orthodox but please see the comments section of Was this a bad idea?). One of the conservative shuls has a fantastic website and an Intro to Judaism class. They seem very well equipped for conversion. From what I've gathered in the past year plus, is that most reform synagogues do conversion or will help you find something. So, things are looking pretty good right now.

Breaking the news to Mom

So, I told my mom I am thinking about converting to Judaism. At first, she didn't say anything. It was awkward. Then she said, "Well that's your business." I tried explaining that it's really her business, too. Then she asked why. Although I know really well why I want to be Jewish, it's really hard to spell out when your mom asks you for the first time. I stumbled and mumbled and eventually got out that I wanted to have a religion for my own kids, one that I agree with. I got a confused look and a "what do you mean?"

I must pause here and tell you a story about something that happened a year ago - almost exactly a year ago.  My aunt Mary left the Catholic Church a long time ago and she became a baptist. Her husband's also a baptist and they raised their kids in the baptist church. It really works for them. I was asking my mom all these questions about her leaving, like how old was she when she did it and why. Finally, my mom goes, "What? Do you want to leave the church or something?" When I replied yes, she then asked "Well do you want to be Jewish?" I said I don't know. "Do you want to be a baptist? What? You have to be something. You need to have a religion to raise your kids in. Even though I don't go to church now and I think a lot of those same things you think about the Church, I am not sorry I took you to church. Religion is a good thing for kids to have." And she's so right. So, so right. I mean, I look at kids who are raised with and without religion and I can just see that something is missing from the lives of those kids who have no religion. It's comforting and it can be good if done in the right way.

So when my mom asked me "what do you mean" when I said I want a religion for my kids, I was a little confused. And I repeated her own words to her. She realized my point and paused for a while. "I don't know. I guess I've never know anyone who's converted to Judaism. I mean, I've just always been Catholic. Even though I don't practice it or go to church - I just- I've just always been Catholic."

The moral of the story is that my mom just needs time to adjust. She needs to get used to the idea. Which is fantastic in my opinion. She said a lot more and the next day we talked and she asked me questions. I purposefully told her separate from my dad so that he can adjust without reacting badly in front of me. He will definitely need more time to adjust. But the point it, they can adjust. I don't know what I'd do if I had the type of parents who'd cut me out if I changed religions. I don't know how I could move forward with my life if they didn't want to adjust and compromise. I gave her Judaism for Dummies to read and she said she would. It takes her a while to do things so I know she won't fly through it by any means. But it's really OK if it takes her a while because it takes a while to convert to Judaism.

Honestly, I am so glad I got the most awkward conversation of our whole relationship out of the way. Now I can talk to my mom about my day without leaving out that I went to Hillel. Sometimes that's the biggest part of my day. I talked to my mom on the phone yesterday and my dad sort of cracked a joke in the background about it all. Joking about things = being OK with things, at least in my family.

What a relief.