The Rosary.

Tonight while davening at shul, I had a peculiar flashback to High Holiday services long, long ago. Probably in 2005, in Lincoln, Nebraska. Was it Rosh Hashanah? Or Yom Kippur?

My mom had purchased something for me for my birthday that year, around the High Holiday season, that meant a lot to me because it was an acknowledgement of where I was going, who I was becoming -- a large black star of David on a really long black beaded chain. It was, essentially, a Jewish rosary. I forgave my mother the weirdness of its composition, put it in my jewelry box, and didn't think much of it.

And then, while I was getting dressed for holiday services one day, I pulled out the necklace. "Should I wear it?" I questioned myself, staring at the long black beaded cord, looping it around and around to a length that was doable as a necklace. I placed it around my neck, the star falling between the sides of the color of a royal purple shirt I had on. The weight of the star caused it to float downward, into my shirt, showing only the beaded black portion of the strange piece of jewelry.

I took it off.

I finished getting ready, all the while thinking about whether it was kosher for me to be wearing this Jewish symbol, especially to synagogue, especially on the high holidays. Was it sacrilegious? Sinful? I didn't have time to question the internet or call a friend, and surely there are plenty of people in the world who aren't Jewish who wear the star of David, right?

I put the rosary-themed gothic-style star of David necklace back on. I went to shul.

I remember  worrying the entire service about what if someone saw me with the necklace on, knowing that I was going through the (Reform) conversion process. What if I was accosted? What if the rabbi saw it and scolded me? The heavy star of David slipped down with its weight, slowly, and I played with the beaded chain the entire service, trying to make the star fall further away from sight. I didn't want anyone to see it. I wore it out of pride, but ended up being embarrassed and actually ashamed that I'd put it on and worn it to shul.

I remember nothing about what was said during that service -- by the rabbi or anyone else. But I do remember my exact outfit, and that necklace, and how embarrassed I was that I wore that necklace when I wasn't "officially" Jewish.

Now, I wear a star of David every day. In the eyes of halakah, well, I'm still not halakicly Jewish. But I feel naked without my star. It screams to the world "Jew here!" But it's more subtle than that one I wore all but once those many years ago. That big, black star of David done up like a rosary. No, now it's a small, shiny piece given to me by Tuvia. I have various other necklaces adorned with the magen David and other Jewish symbols. I'm no longer embarrassed or worried or frightened that I'll be reprimanded for wearing this symbol of Judaism that, to be honest, was a late incarnation of Jewish symbols.

Either way, my fear of what others think of me, how they read the most subtle of clothing choices and jewelry adornments, has changed over time. Confidence grows, worries subside, and in the end a small little star of David is but one millisecond in the scheme of things.

Saying Kaddish for Reform and Conservative Jews?

Over the weekend, before Tuvia and I schlepped into Monsey, we were in Livingston, New Jersey, visiting with Tuvia's family for his stepmother's Adult Bat Mitzvah ceremony at a Reform synagogue. The event and Shabbos are already several days removed, and there are often things I intend on writing about but never get to because they become history rather than necessarily present memory. However, on one of my listservs this morning, someone sent out a kind of disturbing article from The Jerusalem Post: Non-Orthodox Judaism disappearing. The headline isn't exactly disturbing or surprising, but rather something in the text caught my eye as upsetting (especially in light of my weekend at a Reform shul).

"With a heavy heart we will soon say kaddish on the Reform and Conservative Movements," said Yeshiva University Chancellor Rabbi Norman Lamm, head of the Rabbi Isaac Elchanan Theological Seminary, in an interview with The Jerusalem Post.

I've been aware for a long time that the Conservative Movement is hurting, losing individuals to the Orthodox end or the Reform end at a fairly steady rate. But the Reform Movement? It's been growing at an exponential rate, it seems, as converts typically come into Judaism through Reform and because most of those who associate with Reform Judaism also associate themselves as Secular Jews, and that's a large portion of the population. Lamm, however, attributes to the loss of Reform for a different reason.

"Reform is out of the picture, because they never got into the picture, and the Conservatives are getting out of the picture," Lamm said.

I found this a little upsetting. Maybe more so than the idea of having to say Kaddish for the movements. Maybe I'm naive, but I'm also one of those holdovers who says that all newspapers aren't going to die. Some will persist, because we trust what we can hold in our hands in front of us -- technology is uncertain, unreliable, and not forever. But the idea that the Reform Movement was never in the picture is concerning. It is clear that Lamm assumes that Judaism is religious Judaism, observant Judaism, traditional Judaism. He acknowledges Reform Judaism only to the point that it exists, but beyond that, it has no authority or legitimacy and deserves no attention. It's a disturbing sentiment for such a powerful man.

I was uplifted by his sentiments at the end of the article, though, regarding how he views those of the Gay-Lesbian population. But he does make that horrible generalization that homosexuals are proselytizers of their lifestyle. I'm guessing he has a problem with flamboyantly open and loud gays? Seriously? What a narrow-minded outlook! But he does say, "Everyone should be made to feel comfortable ... I would never exclude a person because his wife does not cover hair or because he does not adhere to the laws of Shabbat or because he is a homosexual."

Enter: Glimmer of hope for someone.

But the reason this article has me a little put-off is because, although I'm about a million light years away from the Reform Movement in observance and ideologies, but because I also was in that Movement not that long ago, I see the positives it provides. Yes, they have an acoustic guitar and tambourine and piano that made my ears ring and my face turn into a scowl with irritation (reminds me of church camp, seriously), and yes they send kids to the door after services with tzedakah boxes (this was the most disturbing and shocking thing at the shul this past Shabbos), but people were there, if only for the simchas. Yes, the rabbi was taking notes on the bima on Saturday morning for his sermon (writing on Shabbos?!), and yes there were men not wearing kippot and women wearing clothing akin to string bikinis. But it's how those Jews do their Judaism and I applaud them for having some devotion to Shabbat, lifecycle events, and to their family having some knowledge of their Judaism. It isn't how I would ever choose to do my Judaism, and I can't even say that I approve of how Reform Judaism rolls. But it's how I came to Judaism, and I can understand the lens many of those people are viewing Judaism through. Sometimes it needs to be easy and accessible, but that's also the path people start upon that can lead them to Orthodox Judaism and more.

At any rate, I think it's a little early to say kaddish for the Reform and Conservative Movements, and I think it would be very, very wrong to do so. I do think, however, that Orthodox Jews need to be prepared to welcome and bring people into Orthodoxy from the Conservative Movement if need be. It isn't us versus them and we shouldn't mourn their movements, because that means we're morning the loss of thousands of Jews within those movements. Even the most secular Jews call out for a connection at some point, and we need to be prepared when that time comes.

Rabbis Explain Why People Become Orthodox

Note: I had originally posted a blog here, which was crossposted on Jewsbychoice.org. However, in an effort to keep content original on JBC, as well as my personal blog, I encourage you to head over to the JBC blog in order to read the post. I apologize for the confusion this might cause.



Thanks!
Chavi


There has been an interesting series posted on the Hirhurim Musings blog about Why People Become Orthodox, and I thought it would be useful to share here simply because the perspectives of many Conservative rabbis are shared. Essentially a question was posed to a number of rabbis across the spectrum of Judaism, and as far as I can tell it's an ongoing series. To read the blog post, please visit this link.

Of Literary Note.

For the first time -- in a long time -- I shut the computer and plopped down on my bed to finish up a book, Chaim Potok's "The Promise." I'd been reading it voraciously, eating the words as if I'd been starved of prose for days, if not weeks. I'm not sure why, but that's what Potok's books do to me. They enliven the appetite for words. For me, that's rare. Of course this also means I need to set out to read all of his work, since right now I've read a mere three or four of them.

Last week I finished Marc D. Angel's "Orthodox Road to Conversion," which I haven't really had the chance to fully discuss. And then I finished "The Promise" and now? Now I'm reading Robert Eisenberg's "Boychiks in the Hood."

I know what you're thinking: Chavi is disappearing into the big, bad, dark black-hatted world of Orthodoxy and Hasidism! Quick! Grab a rope! It's like quicksand in the Jewish community, no?

No. I'm not sure why, but I'm drawn to Orthodoxy. I'm drawn to the construct of the rebbe in Hasidism. I'm drawn to this seemingly perfunctory -- if that's the right word -- Jewishness. It intrigues me in many ways.

But let's be honest here. I know Reform and Conservative Jews more kosher than me (in more ways than one). I'm the floating Jew, if you recall. Analyzing the movements and trying to find her place among the chaos and the intra-battle of Jew vs. Jew. I have a distaste for labels, remember?

The thing of it is, though, that below my copy of "Boychiks in the Hood" (in the pile of "to take to work tomorrow" stuff) is the newest issue of Reform Judaism magazine. Yes, I still get it, and yes it still comes to "Amanda and Ian Edwards." The first time it happened, I nearly cried -- it being so soon after the ex and I parted ways. But now, getting the magazine with that as the addressee, well, it gave me a good chuckle.

There are quite a few things that intrigue me in this issue and the biggest one is the cover story: Why religion matters. I opened the magazine randomly to a random page and ended up on a sort of Q&A about keeping kosher. The resounding response, it seems, was not to keep kosher by eating foods that some random Orthodox rabbi deems okay, but to go the vegetarian route. No way an Orthodox rabbi can taint your cause then, eh?

I'm ahead of the game, though. I need to read the issue -- cover to cover. I think there's going to be some good stuff in it, and I don't say that in a condescending sarcastic way (much to the disappointment of what many of my readers probably think). I don't dislike Reform Judaism, in fact, if there is one congregation in the world I will always return to, it's my Reform congregation back in Nebraska, for the people there, in my mind, are the most devoted, passionate Jews I know. They're the most real people I've met. But I'm biased. It's like how you have to love your family, no matter what, you know? I love them, come hell or high water or sheitls, I love them.

But that's not the point. The point is that I'm reading all these texts and fictions about the "other" side of Judaism. The inside world, as opposed to Tova Mirvis' painted "outside world." I'm looking and asking questions because that is what we do, as Jews, and what we ALL should do -- regardless of creed, beliefs system or values. Questioning is human. And anyone who tells you otherwise is a liar and a chump.

So I'll read on. And this "Boychiks in the Hood" book? I'm 20 pages in and absolutely intrigued. If you haven't read it, I recommend picking it up. It'll get your mind a'spinning.

The Great Divide: Conservative Judaism in the 21st Century.

So ... Shabbat Shalom, friends.

I've sort of taken on a, well, academic endeavor into Conservative Judaism. I realize that I have slowly floated away (more or less) from Reform Judaism, in which I converted. Now, I have to give the precursor that the Reform Judaism that I converted into in Lincoln, Nebraska, in my mind, is nothing like the Reform Judaism I have found anywhere else. The Reform Judaism there is filled with people who are active in the shul, everyone knows each other, the same people go to services every week, it's just very close-knit. I mean, not everyone keeps kosher or davens daily or anything, but it felt more genuine. Like the people were there because they believed in Judaism, not necessarily Reform Judaism, but Judaism itself. It never felt like church. It never felt like the Protestant Reform Judaism that I've witnessed elsewhere. I went to shul, it was shul.

But as I grow, and as I learn and explore what it means to be religious or observant or devout in Judaism, I realize more and more that what Reform Judaism is (with the exception of that which I came into, which is always the sweetest) is not the kind of Judaism that I practice or want to practice. I don't mean to offend, and I know I have Reform readers. But in my mind, it has become all the more clear that it -- in my mind, once again -- is insincere, it's like, a show. A repetitive, droning show that no one really wants to be at. The b'nai mitzvah celebrations are benign and the kids -- it would appear -- are not having to learn much of any Hebrew to become b'nai mitzvah. The people look bored, except when they're noshing at the pre-oneg or scarfing desserts afterward at the oneg. It's more about socializing than anything. It's like, belonging to a club. A club where you see people and you say hi and then you listen to some guy speak and it lasts way too long and then you go home and that's that. It feels like church to me anymore. It doesn't feel passionate. And I know that it depends on the shul, but I've been to shuls in Denver and Washington DC and New York and Nebraska and Chicago. And save for the one in New York and my home shul, I'm just not getting it. It's so suburban and benign. And the idea that I keep "somewhat" Kosher or -- G-d forbid -- go to shul every week or study the Torah portion or want to go INTO Judaic studies just astounds many of my Reform/Secular friends.

So as time has pressed forward, I have found myself more and more leaning toward Conservative Judaism. But then I realized, I really, truthfully, know nothing about Conservative Judaism except that it was birthed as a middle-ground, to keep the shtetl Jews who wanted to Americanize but keep their traditions. Reform was too lazy, Orthodox was too crazy. So what is Conservative? What does it say? What is its function? What is it all about?

And so I found a paper by Jack Wertheimer, "The Perplexities of Conservative Judaism." I read this paper with great interest last week on the train ride home from work. I often find it incredibly difficult to focus on reading anymore on the train, but this had me glued. I'll admit, too, that the "lazy" and "crazy" lines are taken right out of his paper, because his comments on the issue of what Conservative Judaism strives to achieve really struck me and actually are what made me realize that what I know about the movement could fit on a single page of paper. Says Wertheimer,

"In religion as in other areas of life, disunity and disorganization can be symptoms of a deeper confusion. A wag once memorably classified Orthodox, Conservative, and Reform Judaism as, respectively, 'crazy, hazy, and lazy.' The 'hazy,' at least, is not inaccurate."

At this point I realized that what I didn't know and now did know made sense. You have this middle-ground movement that is losing members left and right to, well, the left and right -- Orthodox and Reform. Why? Because of the hazy. Conservative Judaism, it would appear from this paper and other documents I've poked at, doesn't know what it's doing with itself. In its beginnings the rabbis had things one way and the lay community had things another way. I also didn't realize that there is no defining body of Conservative Judaism, but rather the body of rabbis and then the organization for the synagogues. What's more, Orthodox and Reform leaders predict the movement will go defunct in the next 10 to 20 years, for lack of membership.

It makes sense, of course. I am sure there are those within the movement who keep strictly kosher and walk to shul and edge on Modern Orthodox, but perhaps who grew up in the movement with parents or grandparents who came to the states and vowed to not maintain orthodoxy. And then there are those who go every now and again, enjoy a nice pork chop, but appreciate the services with their bounty of Hebrew or perhaps simply grew up in the movement. So what do these individuals do? Over time, they shift, one way or the other. It's only a natural progression, nu?

So here I am. I have a few books here from the library, including "Conservative Jewry in the United States" by Goldstein (which surveys the demographic and trends among the community), as well as "Conservative Movement in Judaism" by Elzar, which is, well, what you would expect. Avi has suggested some texts to me off the Conservative movement's website, and, well, we'll see if I can't pick those up locally or up in Skokie and then go from there.

The thirst for knowledge is strong in this one, believe that folks. I just want to understand what the movements have to say -- while knowing, of course, that within every movement are a million microcosms of different ideals and beliefs and systems of living the law. Then, perhaps, I can figure out why I feel as though I'm in this weird dimension of floating around, feeling like I don't necessarily fit anywhere, but at the same time craving the organized chaos of a Sabbath service. I mean, I feel fine at the Conservative shul. I love it, I really do. But if there is this tension and confusion that I don't know about, I'd rather be prepared than hit head-on when people start defecting to the other movements en masse. I feel like "Jews in Space" or something. Trying to find a planet that will accommodate my specifications, if that makes sense.

So with all that in mind, Chavi shall search for a place to land that has more to offer than simply oxygen and challah.

Be well, and Shabbat Shalom.

Two things. That caught my eye.

Happy Thursday, and a few things. I've had a lot, we're talking OODLES of free time at work today. I managed to do up my dad's resume, compile a list of my boss's events for 2008, open bucketloads of mail, and many other important things. But among that, I've had lots of web time. I did the hop from one blog to the other to news sites thing and found a couple things worth mentioning. So here we are for the day.

+ Israel is absolutely near a final agreement to get Gilad Shalit, the Israeli soldier who has been held captive for more than a year by Palestinian militants, back into Israel. The catch? Well, they have to release 100 prisoners, some who are terrorists associated with Hamas, upon Shalit's being handed over to Egyptian security personnel ... not to mention the other 100 prisoners Israeli has to release after Shalit makes it back to Israel. That's 200 dangerous people who want Israel blown off the face of the planet, mind you. Now, I'd all but forgotten about Shalit, and I feel really bad about saying that, but it's one of those things that was horrible for the first six months and then became this ridiculous stand-off where you knew they weren't going to kill him. They'd hold him for a hundred years if they could, trying to get their dangerous criminals released. Also, this seems like the kind of thing that will happen, with frequency, for as long as there is no peace or at least an understanding between Israelis/Palestinians.

+ There was a little write-up over on Jewschool from Christmas Day about a conference ABOUT Reform Judaism. Recently, the Union for Reform Judaism threw a big bash out in San Diego and from what I hear, it went swimmingly. The writer on Jewschool, though, makes a point to express that this conference (held in Israel) was not hosted by the URJ, but rather by the Van Leer Institute. The slide posted along with that post has a professor at Brandeis asking one of her students why he/she is going on to rabbinical school to be a Reform rabbi. The answer is not only shocking, but deeply disturbing.

Well, I want to keep on learning more about Judaism. I want to study Jewish texts all the time, till I learn as much as I can. I want to explore Jewish rituals, to lead a committed Jewish life. I'm a committed Reform Jew, and I want study to be central to my life, but I sure don't want to be a rabbi. That's just the only way I can continue to study and stay in the Reform movement.

Say what? There are people going to rabbinical school who just want to be Reform Jews but think -- for some reason -- that they can't do so without hitting up rabbinical school? The professor said this response is the sentiment of many of her students, too. The only thing shocking than this response is the comments that follow the posting. It would appear that this is a common thing -- people going to rabbinical school to merely study Judaism, but with no intentions of becoming rabbis. Why do these people not pursue Master's or PhD's in Judaic studies? It just seems ... illogical to me. Or is this, perhaps, the sign that there is not enough Jewish education available for adults? Almost every shul I've gone to has had active Jewish Adult Education classes, but few people ever attended them, and most of those who did happened to be older, in their 50s and 60s. So what is the 20-something Jew to do to keep up on Jewish living?

Not go to rabbinical school for kicks and giggles, that's what.

The New Siddur ... here's hoping it actually comes out this time!

So I saw this little gem in the New York Times about the Union for Reform Judaism preparing to adopt a new prayer book. Hold the phone. Weren't we going to do this like ... a year ago? Six months ago? Three months ago? This thing has been in the works for AGES. At one service last year I heard that the printing was halted because of some typos. Then I heard that the printing was halted so that all the Harry Potter books could make it out in time.

Either way, I'm a fan of the new book.

I attended a service up north at a synagogue I ended up passing on where the head honcho was one of the leading rabbis on the new siddur. I knew this immediately because their personal prayerbook (they'd left the old Gates of Prayer behind long ago) was printed in the style that I had seen in the sneak peeks we'd gotten back home in Nebraska at B'Nai Jeshurun. It appeared for a long time that the union was sending out bits and pieces to rabbis for use in sort of acclimating their congregations to the new style of the forthcoming (still waiting!) prayerbook. It's a complete — COMPLETE — change from the old version.


If you poke at that article, there's an interactive section that shows you a bit of the new prayerbook. I like to call it the "choose your own adventure" prayerbook (its new name being Mishkan T'filah). Why? Well, each page is full of the Hebrew, the English and the transliteration, in addition to a lot of gleanings and optional prayer portions pulled from the great rabbis and thinkers, not to mention other portions of the Tanakh. The goal of the book is to appeal to anyone and everyone. Says the Times:

The changes reveal a movement that is growing in different directions simultaneously, absorbing non-Jewish spouses and Jews with little formal religious education while also trying to appeal to Jews seeking a return to tradition.

The siddur took more than 20 years to complete ... talk about an undertaking. The last siddur was published in 1975, and I guess I understand why just about every synagogue I've gone to outside of my home shul in Lincoln, Neb., has created their own version of the prayerbook in an effort to be more universal. I'll admit that nothing in the old Gates of Prayer offended me. In fact, there's a portion in there that inspires and moves me every day. But the new siddur has removed references to God as a “He”, and whenever Jewish patriarchs are named — like Abraham, Isaac and Jacob, so are the matriarchs — like Sarah, Rebecca, Rachel and Leah.

I'm quite excited about the new book. I think — if anything — perhaps it will bring more people into the shul, seeing as it has a bounty of new stuff to read (the book is pretty thick, from what I've heard), so when you get tired of the rabbi's sermon you can just read on some wisdom from the sages or Elie Wiesel. It's variety, and that's what we thrive on these days it seems — something for everyone, gall darn't.

I suppose I should check in with my synagogue to see if we're taking on the new siddur or if we're sticking with our homemade versions. Here's to hoping this text can pump some fire into the hearts of my fellow Reform Jews!