Full circle...cheers, peace, love and all that good stuff

       I am rereading Ann Lamott’s book Bird by Bird, which offers instructions on writing and life.  Over the last 8 years or so I have picked up this book to read a chapter or a highlighted section, and I am immediately reminded of why I love writing.  As my conversion blog comes to an end, I know I will miss this process.  I started this blog to document my conversion into the Jewish faith and I did it!  I am a real Jew!  I just had my first Seder, I have a Jewish wedding to plan, and hopefully Jewish baby naming ceremonies in the future!   Although my conversion blog ends here, my journey through living a Jewish life continues fervently. 

                Now, my challenge is to find an idea for another blog I want to write.  I was so passionate about each blog posting because this conversion process was so meaningful to me.   But I was also moved to write so that my friends and loved ones would know something deeper and greater about me.  I have always considered myself better written than well spoken.   Ann Lamott believes that “Books help us understand who we are and how we are to behave.  They show us what community and friendship mean; they show us how to live and die.”   Okay, yes, this is a blog and clearly not a book, and by no means do I consider my writing powerful enough to conjure up feelings about morality or mortality.  But this quote makes me want to keep writing because for us book lovers, writing is how we learn about life in an incredibly intimate and unique way. 

                Thank you to everyone who read my postings or even just glanced at them for fun!  I will return to the blog scene with a new topic soon.  It might be about my official Jewishness or my hidden desire to be a stand-up comedian or my love of wines or the most bizarre things that happen in a middle school classroom…..okay, I’ll stop and I am pretty sure the last one could cost me my teaching credential!

Cheers, peace, love…and all that good stuff!

Get thee to a mikveh! (So I can be a Jew before Passover!)

While growing up, my mother had a print of a house with hearts and under the image there was the saying, “Love lives here.”  This print hung on the wall in our dining room for years.  It was one of those staple household decorations – no matter how old I got or much I changed, that little print stayed the same, untouched.  A few weeks after moving into Joe’s house, my mother brought the print over for me to hang on a wall in Liam’s room.  The colors matched and she told me that she thought it was fitting.  I couldn’t have agreed more.  Love truly does live here! 

                 Despite the cliché corniness of the phrase, this is in fact what my home with Joe and Liam says to me.  I am so surrounded by love that I am often giving myself a mental pinch to see if this is really my life.  Silly, I know.  

Knowing that I am beyond lucky and (no pun intended) chosen, the morning of my conversion I had no doubts.  I knew that becoming Jewish would be this wonderful addition to my life with Joe and the family that we are creating together.  I wanted so much to be a Jew already.  I was simply nervous.  What was the rabbinical court going to ask me?  Would I start to cry when they asked me to tell them about my path to Judaism?  Would I give honest responses and speak from my heart, or would I be too self-conscious and give the text book response? 

Joe, my mother, and my sponsoring rabbi sat by my side as I was questioned by the rabbinical court.  It sounds so official and rigid, but it was much more like a conversation than a put me on the spot and grill me with questions session about the Talmud and Torah.  It was uncanny how comfortable I felt.  It was not only that I was prepared, but I felt that I was becoming part of something that I was always supposed to be a part of. 

Following my meeting with the rabbinical court, Liam and I entered the mikveh and officially became part of the Jewish people and the Jewish faith.  I went in first on my own and then Joe and I brought Liam in together.  It is difficult to describe some of life’s most beautiful moments so I am not going to try to put it into words.  But I do remember after I immersed myself under the water and said the blessings, finalizing my conversion, Sue, the woman who assisted me into the mikveh, gave me several minutes to be alone in the mikveh.  She told me that Jews believe that the mikveh is a space in which you can directly talk to God and God is actively listening.   So I took this opportunity to say thank you.  Thank you for my beautiful family and life.  Thank you for my motherhood and for bringing the most wonderful man into my life.  It wasn’t much, but I thought if I had a chance to say one thing to God it would be “thank you. “    

(Side thought:  Jews who have not been in a mikveh seriously need to try it!  It was like being in a wonderfully large bath tub!  And the lighting was great – all candles and no over head lighting.)

                 

               

If not now, when?

It is 5:30 a.m. on the day of Liam’s and my conversion.  I can’t sleep.  I am too anxious – both excited and nervous.  I have worked so hard to get to this place.  I have read for countless hours, spent time doing some very honest soul searching, and have pushed myself far beyond my comfort zone.  I am ready.  Like a mantra, I keep repeating this to myself, “I am ready.”

Of course I have doubts.  I suppose they are more like insecurities than actual reservations about entering the Jewish faith.   Raising Jewish children intimidates me because I am still learning about what it means to live a Jewish life.  How can I possibly teach someone else?  Synagogue intimidates me.  I mean, more than half of the service is in Hebrew!  Claiming that I am lost is an understatement.  How will I ever learn Hebrew?  I so badly want to invite friends over for Shabbat dinner on Friday night, but I still feel like I am a fake as I prepare for Shabbat.  I know that after today I am as Jewish as any other Jew, but am I really?  According to Jewish law I am, but I still feel like an outsider.   Does this feeling of being “the other” ever go away?  And if it does go away, will I just enter into another state of feeling like “the other” since Jews are a minority?   

These are complex issues.  I know that I may struggle with these feelings for a while, possibly even years.  But I repeat my mantra, “I am ready.”  In Ethics of Fathers, Rabbi Hillel, one of the greatest Jewish scholars, says, "If I am not for myself, who will be for me? But if I am only for myself, who am I? And if not now, when?" (1:14).  My decision to convert is a choice that I have made to be for myself.  I enrolled in my Introduction to Judaism class wanting to learn more about the faith and culture of the man I love.  And I ended the class knowing that this was a personal journey that I not only wanted to experience longer through study, but wanted to be a part of in a very real way.  Moreover, my decision to convert is not only for myself.  I am converting the single most precious and sacred person in my life, my son.  I know that by becoming Jews, Liam and I will be able to share a spiritual and cultural life with Joe that is authentic.  The Jewish people, faith, and culture will be ours, too!  Lastly, my favorite part of Hillel’s quote is “if not now, when?”  Simply put, Hillel challenges his readers to live in the present, to motivate now because life is happening now.  This reminds me of being on a roller coaster and reaching the high point just before the riveting drop.  At this point I always fear the drop, wanting it to happen, but not now.  But the reality of the drop is that it will happen.  There is no way of getting off the roller coaster without the drop occurring.  So, if not now, when?  And the drop is always exhilarating!  

I know I am prepared.   Although I am nervous about the questions the Beit Din (the rabbinical court) will ask me, I will speak from my heart because it is through love that brought me to this path.  I fear that I will get choked up as they ask me to tell my story because it is an emotional one.  It is a story I hold dear to my heart.  It is truly a story of a lost soul trying to find her sense of self and protect her son.  But is it a victorious story!  A story I am proud to tell regardless of the fact that it is difficult to tell. 

“I am ready; I am ready.”

L'Chiam!

My instructor, Rabbi Gotlieb, says that the only difference between a Jew by birth and a Jew by choice is that a Jew by choice usually knows much more about Judaism and has a deeper love for the faith and culture than a Jew by birth.  When Joe and I first started dating, I remember asking him about his observance.  He confessed that he wasn’t really a practicing Jew. He fasted on Yom Kippur, ate latkes during Chanukah, and knew just about every accomplished Jewish athlete that ever lived.  Despite the fact that he was not an observant Jew, Joe seemed very Jewish to me.   (And I’m not talking about the very Jewish last name he has!)

                While reading in preparation for my final class this past Thursday, I started to realize something about Joe’s Jewishness that I had not thought about previously.  In Rabbi Harold Kushner’s novel To Life! he writes, “Being Jewish is a state of mind; it is something that takes place inside of you…Doing Jewish is something that happens between you and other people, between you and the world.  Doing Jewish means living differently because you are a Jew.”  Judaism places the greatest value on how human beings act in this world rather than behaving for a ticket into the afterlife.  It is the present moment that is most precious.  Joe lives in a Jewish state of mind.   Joe is the one person I know who lives in the present moment daily.  He is one of the kindest human beings I have ever met.  I don’t know any man who speaks to his family as much as he does and goes out of his way to care for his parents.  I can’t believe I have met a man who comes home from work and asks me what the cutest thing my son did today was.  He is not only a person that I love, but a person I look up to as a model human being. 

                It is now my time to live in a Jewish state of mind.  On April 4^th I will meet with the Beit Din, the Rabbinical Court, at the American Jewish University for my conversion.  Liam and I will enter the Mikveh, I will recite the Hebrew blessings, and we will emerge as Jews.  I am giving Liam the name Isaac, which means “laughter” in Hebrew.  And I have chosen the Hebrew name Samara, meaning “guarded by God.”  I chose these names because they are fitting.  Liam is such a happy boy!  When he laughs, I am immediately reminded of the incredible miracle that is right in front of my eyes.  And I truly believe that I have been guarded by - dare I say - God.  I almost feel silly writing this.  As if I am not religious enough or contemplative enough to be saying that I am guarded by God.  I think I have always wanted to believe in God, but I was never sold on the idea.  Sunday school and obnoxious Catholic school teachers didn’t seem to develop a strong sense of faith within me.   But as I consider my conversion and the Jewish life that I will be starting with Joe and Liam, I know that there had to have been divine intervention to get me here. 

                I was 9 months pregnant, living in New York City, and in a relationship with a man that scared me.  I felt trapped.  I remember thinking to myself that I am an educated woman; I am confident.  How could this have happened to me and why am I so afraid to leave this man?  I can only describe it as an out of body experience.  I was not myself.  I was lost.   And I needed something greater than me, greater than this life, to bring me home and back to being me.  Whether I call it God, divine energy, or the universe’s mysticism, I know that I was guarded. 

I frequently have that “pinch me” moment in which I tell myself that this really is my life!  My life truly is this great!  And now I have the honor to consider a new state of mind for myself and for my family.  I feel confident in saying that I will never again be lost.  I will never again compromise the person I am because fear got the best of me.  Being Jewish and doing Jewish may still seem foreign to me.  And I am certain that being Jewish will challenge me to go beyond my comfort zone, but I am so ready for this!  What else is there to say other than L’Chaim!

A Life Without Hate

A few months ago I watched a documentary about the 14^th Dalai Lama with my middle school students.  The interviewer asked his Holiness if he hated the Chinese people for the oppression they put the Tibetan people through.  As the spiritual and political leader of Tibet, the Dalai Lama gave a response that awed me.  In summary, he said that he does not hate the Chinese because they teach him more about life.  He learns from them and is thankful for that.  After watching the documentary, my students discussed their reactions.  A student, whom I consider to be years beyond her age and in many ways more wise at age 12 than most adults, said “Kari, I want to marry the Dalai Lama. (Giggles) I mean, I want to meet someone who is that compassionate and so filled with love.” 

                Tibetan Buddhists believe that the Dalai Lama is the reincarnation of the Buddha of Compassion.  Thus, according to Buddhist belief, he is innately born into a being that exemplifies the highest level of compassion.  Not taking anything away from the Dalai Lama, but it is understandable that he would be able to rise above hatred more gracefully and courageously than most human beings.  Therefore, when I met Regina Hirsch, Auschwitz Holocaust survivor, and she said, “I have no hate in me,” I marveled at her capacity to rid her life of hate’s venom; it is not often one meets a human spirit that has literally seen hell on earth and lives to say that it taught her a lesson about humanity. 

                The topic of last week’s class was the Holocaust and Jews today.  Rabbi Gotlieb invited Regina Hirsch to speak to us and tell her survivor story.  Regina is a small woman in her 80s.  She has that grandma look to her, but she stands tall and when she speaks, she speaks with conviction.  She was from Poland and spoke about the incredible series of miracles that occurred in her life during the Holocaust.  I would not do justice or give honor to her stories by trying to capture her words and what she went through in this blog.  But each of the stories she told left me with my jaw dropping to the floor and wondering how in the world she could have survived?  Regina said that she truly believed that if God wants us to survive incredibly difficult circumstances, God will make miracles happen.  She said there were many times when she just had to put her faith in God.  And that when there is no sign of hope, that is when you must look for signs from God. 

One of my classmates commented and said, “You don’t seem to have hatred in you.”  Regina agreed that she does not carry hate.  She lost her mother, father, and 5 of her siblings in the Holocaust, but she does not hate.  She explained that we are humans and we must act humanely towards one another.  She emphasized that hating Hitler or the German soldiers would just perpetuate evil and to ensure that something like the Holocaust never happens again, she believes that humans must act from love.  When Regina responded to my classmate with this answer, I immediately thought about the 14^th Dalai Lama documentary.  I thought about the great capacity this woman has for compassion, but without the obligation of being a spiritual leader.   

                She looked at our class and said that she was not the only survivor in the room, but that all Jewish people are survivors.  I immediately started thinking about ways in which I was a survivor.  I do not have a history of family members who perished in the Holocaust or years of feeling different from my friends because of my beliefs or family traditions.  But I have survived the loss of a father and a step-father.  I have endured labor without the support of a significant other.  I continue to teach despite my tumultuous experiences in struggling New York City school districts.  These are in no way comparable to Regina’s hardships and her triumphs as a survivor.  But when Regina said that the Jewish people are survivors, I was drawn to considering my own survival experiences as a way to define my identity into a culture of people who have endured.

                During the entire lecture I had that feeling like I was on the verge of crying. That feeling where there is a ball of tension in your throat and one sudden move will send tears pouring and let out embarrassing sobbing sounds.  I waited until class was over and I was in the privacy of my car to let it go.  I cried because Regina’s story was so powerful. I cried because I am not sure if I will ever be able to be that compassionate.  I cried because I know my children will most likely never be able to sit in a room and meet a Holocaust survivor.  I cried because I felt ridiculous for ever complaining about an insignificant issue…for complaining about anything when I have such a beautiful life.  I cried for humanity and for the future – not only sad tears, but tears of hope.

Jewly Weds...Marriage, Myths, and Martinis

Joe and I have decided to join a synagogue. We chose our shul (Yiddish for temple or synagogue) because it has so many opportunities for families and children to get active.  Belonging to a synagogue that has plenty  of ways in which I can explore my newly forming Jewish identity is important to me.  Our first "extracurricular" event was the Jewlyweds service and dinner called "Marriage, Myths, and Martinis."   This was a night for recently engaged or married couples to attend a Shabbat service and discussion with a Jewish marriage and family therapist.

Although I was a bit out of my comfort zone, I truly enjoyed the service. The rabbi had us up dancing in circles and singing in Hebrew.  I have a friend who replaces the word "watermelon" for all song lyrics he does not know.  It was a night of a lot of "watermelon" lyrics with intermittent phlegm sounding noises, but I felt like I belonged there.  After the service there was a kosher dinner and a discussion with the Jewish marriage and family therapist.  The MFT passed out a worksheet with common marriage myths. 

Here were a few myths from the worksheet:

Myth - We will be happier when.....(fill in the blank).
Myth - Having children will bring us closer together.
Myth - If he/she truly loved me, he/she would know what was wrong without me saying anything
Myth - Our marriage would be better is my partner changed ......(fill in the blank)

(There were about 20 myths on the worksheet.)

We were then asked to choose 2 myths that pertained to our relationship to discuss with our partner.   Joe and I had a pretty good discussion. We did not come up with any answers or resolutions, but we talked about something that we usually do not make time for and this was golden.

I confessed to Joe how overwhelmed I often feel with all my responsibilities at home and at work.  I explained how I work full time and when I come home I have the job of mommy - another full time job.  I told him how stressed I get and that he doesn't share the same responsibilities at home that I do.  Joe takes out the trash and pays the bills. 

I do not want to make it seem like I am not thankful for Joe's financial contribution because I am.  Joe's job allows us to go on vacations and go out for fun dinners and not worry about every penny we spend.  But when Joe gets home his work is done.  He has to take out the trash and he is a daddy to Liam. And he is a wonderful daddy.  But he is playtime daddy, not daddy who does the laundry or  makes breakfast, lunch, and dinner and cleans up all the toys from playtime. 

Like I mentioned earlier, we did not come to any conclusions, but we got to communicate without a toddler pulling at our arms and needing attention.  After our partner discussion ended we came back to discuss our findings with the entire group. (There were about 15 couples there.)  After listening to the other couples, Joe and I realized that our issues were so different. We have a child. We don't argue about what our Friday night date plans should be because we are thankful to get a date night maybe once every couple of months.  We don't fight about each other's parents because we are so thankful that we both live in the same city as our parents and they help us with Liam. 

I definitely left Jewlyweds feeling a  step ahead of the game.  We are passed silly arguing because we have a very active toddler who gives us a daily reality check.  But I also left knowing that having time to talk about our relationship is key. We need this.

Lastly, I left reaffirming my decision to convert.  I so want to be a part of a community that places value on events and provides a venue for dealing with the myths of marriage and relationships.

Bringing Shabbat to Christmas

Last week in my Intro to Judaism class, Rabbi Gotlieb asked if we had any stories from the two weeks off we had from class.  I am usually not one that is biting at the bit to share personal experiences with a group of people I don’t know well, but this time I had to share.  My hand was raised before Rabbi Gotlieb was done asking if anyone had anything to share. 

                I wanted to share with my class that I had brought Shabbat to Christmas.  Christmas Eve was on a Friday night and Shabbat always begins on Friday night.  Joe and I committed to doing Shabbat dinner every Friday night.  This will take some planning since Joe usually works late, but we decided, whether or not Joe is present, our family will sanctify Friday night by observing Shabbat with a dinner.  Our first obstacle came a week later when my mother invited us over to her house to celebrate Christmas Eve on Friday, December 24^th. 

                At first I was concerned about how I would handle the situation.  I knew we had to go to my mother’s house.  Christmas and Thanksgiving were the holidays that my family always spent together.  But I wanted to make sure that I kept my commitment to having a Shabbat dinner.  I decided that I would ask my mother if we could celebrate Shabbat at her house.

                My mother was more than thrilled!  It was a beautiful coming together of old traditions and new traditions.  Next to the my mother’s beautifully decorated red and green table, was a circle table that held my Shabbat candles, my two loaves of homemade Challah bread, and pitcher of water for the traditional hand washing. 

                Before we sat down for Christmas Eve dinner, my family stood around the table prepared for Shabbat.  I lit the candles and recited the prayers in Hebrew.  I messed up once while reciting and decided not to sing “Shalom Aleichem,” but it was perfect.  (And my homemade Challah bread was talked about for the rest of the night!)

                One of the hardest parts about saying goodbye to Catholicism has been detaching from the excitement of Christmas.  My family did not have dinner nightly and we never took big family vacations because my parents worked a lot.  Christmas was really the only time I can remember my family always being together and truly being happy.  On Christmas I felt like I was a part of that classic and traditional family that ate dinner together and told jokes around the fireplace.

                Bringing my new traditions to my family and having them accept them so readily made saying goodbye to Christmas that much easier.  (Also, thank you to marthastewart.com for all the great Chanukah decorating ideas…if I couldn’t decorate for Christmas I had to decorate for Chanukah!)