Why am I converting Orthodox?

After my post of frustration yesterday, and a conversation tonight with a Reform rabbi friend, I decided to write this because I don't know that I've written anything like this before. It's long and wandering, much like my path so far, but give it a go if you will. I might write more on this again, and if I do? Well, I hope it's well-perceived.

For a long time, I thought that the fact that I converted almost three years ago under the auspices of the Reform (not Reformed, folks) movement was to my advantage in my pursuing an Orthodox conversion. I mean, I know the rules of the game. I've studied for almost six years now. I've learned halakot, traditions, customs, prayers, songs, holidays, you name it, I know it. The neshama says feed me, I give it lots of Jewishly oriented foodstuffs, and it wants more. My neshama is an overweight 6-year-old with a penchant for Manischewitz, kugel, and everything challah.

But then, just last night, someone asked me why I felt like I needed to re-convert. This person, a respected friend (I think I can call him that), said that he has a problem with people who nullify or negate their Reform conversions when they convert Conservative or Orthodox. And that really got me thinking. Do I really have it so lucky?

You see, people who come at Orthodox Judaism with a fresh face, from a Christian or Atheist or Pentecostal or Muslim or Buddhist background are going at it straight. They say, "I chose Judaism" and it's left at that. There's no questioning why they chose specifically Orthodoxy as their conversion method. There might be, but it doesn't come with the question: "So what? Reform conversion not good enough for you?"

A long time ago, when I started this whole path down the road of Orthodoxy, I made very clear that I'm not re-converting. I don't need the certificate. I have one, and it's really pretty, and I'm quite a fan of it. It's in an envelope, and every now and again I pluck the envelope out of my file cabinet and look at it. The white out spots because the rabbi accidentally wrote the location of our shul and not the location of the mikvah and beth din. It has personality, a history, it's where I began. That shul? It's my family. It's like that family you can't ever forget. Because, first and foremost when you convert, is you can't forget where you came from.

I have a first family, my nuclear family. They were my "the golden rule is the rule" family who never made us go to church and insisted upon pride, truth, and the pursuit of honesty. Then there's my second family, the shul family, who helped shape me and show me that my Jewish soul wasn't just a figment of my imagination. They helped me grow and thrive and become Chaviva, the Jew, the girl who has traced both sides of her family back to the 1700s without finding a single Jew (lots of Quakers though!). And now? I have a third family, my Orthodox family. A community of people who insist upon dinners and stay-overs and challah and kindness and smiles and hugs and helping me affirm my Jewish soul, the Jew, Chaviva. To them? I'm nothing but Chaviva. A girl who will someday dip in a mikvah and will come out the same as she is right now this very second.

So it's not, I repeat not, re-converting. I'm reaffirming my Jewishness. It's a reaffirmation of my neshama, my path, and acknowledging that I'm still moving on that path, and that I've arrived at another fork in the road, I've come upon another family, that here I am in this beautiful place with these beautiful people and my Jewishness is thriving and springing forth in a more observant, traditional, skirt-filled, and heckschered-food kind of way. You're not looking at a photo here, folks. This is a motion-picture. A movie. No stills here.

I can't really express how much I am not nullifying or discounting or throwing out my Reform conversion. How can I? It's what got me started on this path. You've heard it before, and you'll hear it again -- Reform Judaism (for me and many others I know) is the gateway drug. It's the most opening, welcoming, easy-to-feel-at-home-in form of Judaism that's out there. Without my Reform family? I wouldn't be here. Had I just gone to that grumpy ole' Conservative shul way back when, I probably would have stopped dead in my tracks. I would have said "goodbye Judaism! hello ______!" Reform Judaism was my starting point, I was there hashkafically and it made sense then. Now I'm here. My ending point? I don't know.

I'm not exactly sure what will happen some day when I feel more observant, more Jewish, whatever. It's a process -- a process of evolution and reevaluation and reconsideration and most importantly, reaffirmation. That's why we have such important milestones within Judaism. You have a naming ceremony or bris, an upsherin, a bar or bat mitzvah, an engagement, a wedding, a first baby, and the cycle repeats. Some men have second bar mitzvahs. There are all of these cycles that we honor, we affirm that we're Jewish and these events are significant in our growth personally and spiritually. And for me? Well, the conversion under the auspices of the RCA and Orthodox movement just means that I'm hitting another milestone (here's hoping the next is engagement, eh!?).

I'm not affirming my hashkafah amid Orthodoxy because I'm worried about having fully Jewish kids who won't have to suffer through conversions or questions or because I want my wedding to be legit for my future Jewish husband and his family (though these are definitely bonuses to the whole shebang). It isn't for a sheet of paper. It isn't because -- like I said so long ago -- that I will jump through as many hoops as Orthodox Jews want so that they'll see me as REALLY Jewish. No, it's because I want to affirm where I am Jewishly, where my neshama is Jewishly, where my body is Jewishly. Sitting before a beth din and having them ask me if I'm going to raise my kids Jewish, if I'm going to cover my hair and go to mikvah and all of these things, well, to me that makes sense. It is me affirming where I am now.

The question was then posed -- if I had originally converted Orthodox, and decided to go Reform, would I insist upon a Reform conversion? And my answer was no. But the more I think about it, the more it makes sense. It's nice that we can float so fluidly between belief and observance and everything. I've oft referred to myself as an Underconstructionist Jew and I think that's how ALL Jews should identify. Labels create havoc and confusion and frustration. They create the "us and them" philosophy, and they are what is driving the right further right and the left further left. The middle? It's a lost art. But wouldn't it make sense, if people really thought about where they were? Am I an observant Jew? A non-observant Jew? Am I pro-Israel? Anti-Israel? Am I pro-mechitzah? Anti-mechitzah? And think these things without feeling like there's a suffocating pressure to actually CHOOSE a side, or to do so with the fear of oppression and dissection and being picked apart by the other side. If only we could feel safe to define ourselves and affirm ourselves. To define ourselves by what we ARE and what we BELIEVE and not by what we are NOT and what we don't believe.

I refuse to define myself by what I am NOT.

So this is all I can say. I see myself as a traditional-seeking, mitzvot perfecting, mechitzah loving, GLBT and women's rights believing, hopeful, realist Jew who happens to feel cozy right now in the modern Orthodox community. As such? I feel like it's a good time for me to reaffirm my Judaism. Once upon a time, I refused to even consider that someday I'd be Conservative or Orthodox. Why? Because people told me, and I read everywhere, that it was oppressive, hateful, condescending, secretive, unwelcoming, archaic, and wrong. It was anti-forward thinking. It was stuck in the past. It was not what Judaism is meant to be. But then? I realized that wasn't the truth. At all. It was the opposite. What I experienced was different. And I chose to NOT define myself by what I wasn't and instead take a look at what I was and what I felt and believed.

And here I am. Reaffirming, reaffirming, reaffirming.

But the most important thing? I'm doing this for me. It feels right for me. I was planning this before Tuvia. Before Connecticut. Before all of this. I'm not doing it for anyone or to prove anything. I have nothing to prove. It's how I feel. It's what my heart sings, and if it's right for me, if it's what I feel is necessary for me, for my neshama, for my own heart and mind and body, then that's all that matters. And if you don't agree? Well, you can have your own conversation with G-d to battle that one out.

Because, really? It's between G-d and me.

(It would be nice to have everyone on board with me here, though.)

Scribe at Work!

I'm amazed. This is more tantalizing than watching the new puppies bounce about in their little incubator-style habitat! It's not just because the calligraphy is so beautiful, or that this old guy is letting himself be filmed making the scroll (no pressure! no pressure!). It's neat because it brings the Torah to life, a little bit, letter by letter. Just go here to View the Scribe at work! Here, this is a better explanation, from Mendy Pellin, even!:



The coolest thing? You can purchase a letter in honor of an IDF soldier, or in your name, or your bubbe's name! It's that easy! Of course, I'm not sure how that works and what kind of acclaim (not that it's necessary) one would get for the mere $1 a letter. If they can sell a letter for every one in the Torah? That's a whopping $304,805. Mazel tov!

For more information on the awesome little project, check out AskMoses.com.

Airing Out.

No matter how long I'm living Jewish, no matter how much I know, or feel, or breathe ... I'm still reminded, in the most ridiculous instances that, well, you know in the end I'm not Jewish. Nope. Not Jewish. I'm a non-Jew. All those non-Jew rules? They apply to me. Little ole me. Chaviva (is that your REAL name?). And it burns. It almost burns more now than it did after my Reform conversion nearly three years ago. Why? Because I'm living this lifestyle of an observant Jew who is shomer Shabbos and really doing the kashrut thing and devoted wholly to an observant and traditional lifestyle. Because my neshama? It's screaming. It's been screaming. It's still screaming.

In a simple conversation over mevushal and non-mevushal wine (a topic which, until now, I was completely ignorant of), I was reminded that despite all my knowledge and lifestyle and belief and dedication and the past six years of my life -- I'm still a non-Jew. I don't have that Orthodox conversion. I'm working on it. I really am. I would dunk now if they'd let me. Would they let me?

I give a d'var at an Orthodox rabbi's table, I daven next to 80-year-old women in hats, I sit behind a mechitzah with pride, I spend hours in the grocery store looking for heckschers with glee, I answer questions about why Orthodox Jews do the things they do, I identify as a (modern) Orthodox Jew. I wear a Magen David around my neck. I own more than three siddurim. I have five different chumashim. I have a Judaica collection that would make my pocketbook weep. There are all the trappings, but they're not enough. I feel the way I feel, and I want to be able to show THAT to people, because THAT is what really matters.

But how do you show someone your soul?

It can't be drawn or explained or photographed or videotaped or displayed on a big screen. It's just there and you hear it and feel it and dream it, but you can't let anyone else see it. I try, so hard, through words and deeds and words words words. But that's all they are. Can people really see the passion behind words? Little symbols and characters born out of sounds?

At any rate, I'm at this awkward frustrated point. I'm a Jew! I am. But I'm not. But I am. It's like I'm in purgatory or something. This middle ground between being born and being just a soul floating through the atmosphere waiting to be whole again.

Sincerely frustrated with people who feel the need to remind me that I'm not a halakhic Jew, 
Chaviva E.

And the Passover Giveaway Winner is ...

I'm quite sleepy, so I opted for a photo essay this time around for the giveaway! So view on to see who our lucky winner this round is! And, of course, stay tuned for more stellar giveaways and posts.

First, I made slips with all the entrants. What a tasking job this was! (I jest.)

The slips then sat idle as I awaited -- Tick, Tock, Tick, Tock -- for midnight to strike.

Then, I threw all the slips into a CD holder and mixed 'em up good.

At last, I lifted the many entrants above my head with my right hand, stuck my left hand in and pulled out a winner!

Oops ... sorry, that's a bucket-o-meerkats from the Chicago Zoo. They ARE winners, but I don't think they'd be able to share the plagues and the kippah and the apron, so the REAL winner is ... 

Wahoo! Mazel tov to Reiza!

Tears for all those years!

Love, love, LOVE, this video! It's quite catchy. I hope to catch some of you humming this during the seder :)




Hat tip to Hadassah Sabo!

Readership Overview!

First of all, I want to thank the 45 people who took part in my readership-identification poll that ran last week. I'll throw up another relevant poll shortly, but for now, here's the summary of the poll!

It seems most of my readers mainly identify as Modern Orthodox, which I suppose makes sense because that's how I identify. Now, the reason I differentiated between Orthodox and Modern Orthodox is because the sensibilities are fairly different, even though praxis might not be. Orthodox, in  my mind, sings more of Haredi or right-wing or uber-conservative Orthodoxy, while Modern Orthodox shuls might have a woman giving a d'var on Friday nights, all the while she's covering her hair and loves the idea of the mechitzah (okay, so this is something to which I aspire). Okay? Now, if anyone wants to fight me here on the diff. between Modern and run-of-the-mill Orthodoxy, I'm all for having that discussion.

Lastly, I am stoked that there's one person who identified as Humanist, and if that person wouldn't mind contacting me, I'd love to have a guest post on what it means to be a Humanist Jew. I've always wondered what exactly the praxis and traditions behind being Humanist are, so this would be a great opportunity. It could be an anonymous guest post, of course. I'm just looking to learn something and to teach the greater viewing audience a thing while I'm at it.

Passover Giveaway!

Pesach approaches, at light-speed, it seems. Are you ready? I think it's evident from my recent posts that I'm not, but hey, I'm getting there. So, to ease the stress of the coming holiday and all the cleaning and shopping that it involves, I'm proud to announce a Passover Giveaway, sponsored by the awesome folks at PopJudaica.com! First, the nifty giveaway items. The winner of this giveaway will receive a Bag of Plagues (perfect for the kiddies during a long seder), a Got Matzah? Apron for the crazy cooker in the house, and for the fashionable kippah connoisseur, the Matzah Yarmulke!

The rules?

1. Go to PopJudaica.com.
2. Find your favorite kitschy cool Judaica item (buy something, already, will you?)!
3. IMPORTANT: Come back here, to kvetchingeditor.com, post a comment with your favorite item and how I can contact you.
4. The deadline for entering is Sunday, March 29 at 11:59 p.m. Eastern Time.
5. Wait until Monday morning.
6. WIN!
7. Restrictions: Only U.S. and Canada residents can win!

So spread the word, figure out how you're going to use the awesome plagues in a bag to entertain your kids, or maybe even your impatient adult guests. And be sure to follow @PopJudaica over on Twitter!

Let the winning begin!

A Flurry of Pesach Questions!

As always, I know that checking with my LOR (Local Orthodox Rabbi) is the best route to go, and I fully intend to throw these questions his way during our meeting Wednesday (or via email if I can't manage to get all my queries in then). But I like to throw questions out to the greater viewing community to see how different folks, from different backgrounds, approach issues of halakah! We all have different minhagim (customs), and as someone becoming more religious, I'm particularly fascinated in how different minhagim end up where they do.

For example: My rabbi, who has a German ancestral background, has a Shabbos tradition of washing before saying the blessing over not only the challah, but also the wine. So, one gets up, washes, comes back, and blesses the wine, then blesses the challah, and it's one fluid movement. His is the first house I've ever been at where such a tradition is observed, so the rebbetzin explained why! During Pesach, the children ask why the night is different than other nights, and during Pesach you bless the wine, wash, then bless the matzah. So, it makes sense to mix things up every other night of the year, no? Logical to me.

At any rate, here are a series of questions that I've derived from studying the haggadah (the text used during a Passover seder) and the OU Passover Guide. Feel free to answer, or simply to muse at my curiosities!

• Why, during the seder, do we only toss water on each hand ONCE (as opposed to thrice)?
  
• Why is red wine preferred for the seder? Why do people typically use red wine for the Shabbos wine, too?
  
• Why should the drinking of each cup of wine and eating of the matzah/maror be completed within 4 minutes?
  
• If my toaster oven is essentially free and clean of chametz, can it be koshered l'pesach and subsequently for the rest of the year? Every item ever cooked in it was cooked on a foil-covered baking pan? Thus can I kasher the baking pan without using a torch? I don't own a torch ...
  
• What's the best material to use when covering fridge shelves?
  
• As far as I'm concerned, Quinoa is legit l'pesach. Do you eat Quinoa on Pesach?
  
• I'm confused about the restriction re: the whole "avoid chametz products" after Pesach issue. Does this mean I can't go to a grocery store owned by Jews (a chain, for example) and buy bread? Ever?
  

I'm stoked for a full week of FRESH veggies and fruit, though. My fridge will be filled with fresh goodies. Although ... how seriously do I need to sit and dig through my fresh goods in order to make sure they're kosher l'pesach. I mean, is the Bug Checker really necessary?

Kashruth Stress! And an A.

The struggle to decipher the politics of kashruth stresses me out. The "plain K" heckscher is legitimate on Kellogg's products (and I read somewhere that it's really the OU who oversees those products, but no clue why they wouldn't use an OU), but on Yoplait yogurt, which lists "kosher gelatin" as an ingredient, where the "plain K" appears, it's NOT okay. No sir, no way, no how, no consumption! I am, however, stocked about how many things do bear a kosher logo, and I know that my life will be a lot easier than it might have been to keep kosher in 1909.

In unrelated news, for those keeping up on the blog, I redid my craptastic paper over a seven-hour stretch yesterday in the library and I got the letter grade on it already this evening. A sparkling "A" paper, says the professor! That has me stoked, and if I can keep up my work pace and not fall behind again, then maybe I won't freak out like I have over the past week. My anxiety level is in the red and as Pesach approaches I realize that the semester is nearing an end in not very long. I have a huge term paper to write, and the topic I was writing on got switched recently so I've started over with research and am quite behind in that department. But, I know I'm capable and I just have to remind myself of that.

Shabbos Roundup.

Since I had direct orders from my Shabbos lunch host (mind you it was him, and not her) to not, I repeat NOT blog about my experiences (though, to be honest they were completely tame) at their home, I'll just present my Shabbos in a series of bullet points.

+ Once again at the Rabbi's for dinner, we once again talked about Twitter. Twitting. Tweeting. Blogging. Etc.

+ I didn't convince a doctor to switch to the ways of the Google.

+ I had the most delicious hamantaschen, again.

+ Ordered to leave the rabbi's at 10 p.m., we failed, arriving back at our host's around 11ish.

+ We then stayed up till well after 1 discussing kashruth (which I feel a lot better about now), conversion, community politics, and family life.

+ I think I'm allergic to the laundry detergent.

+ Aufrufs are fun, especially since you get to peg the chatan with lots of tiny little pieces of chocolate.

+ The many, many hats women wear at my shul are beautiful, large, and I think I'll stick to scarves someday.

+ Evidently it's possible to be "drunk with kidney stones" when you're super preggo.

+ Houses in West Hartford are really, really, really expensive.

+ The rabbi, our hosts, and everyone else really, really, really wants us to move to West Hartford.

+ Buying a house built in the 1700s would be fun, and exciting, but impossible.

+ Hearts of Palm are actually really good in salad.

And lastly? I can't live without my weekly in-take of Everything Challah. How will I last over Pesach!?

HH is Up and Functioning!

In case you didn't know ... Haveil Havalim #209 is up and alive over on What War Zone???

A Ditty of a D'Var.

 

In this week's parshah, Vayak'hel-Pekudei, after all the turmoil and frustration of the Golden Calf incident, Moses' first word to the people is on keeping the Sabbath. This seems odd, almost outlandish. The people commit this great misstep, and they're looking for some reassurance and comfort from Moses on G-d's love for the people and what does Moses say? "These are the things that he Lord commanded to make. Six days work may be done, but on the seventh day you shall have sanctity, a day of complete rest to the Lord" (Exodus 35:1-2).

I'm reminded of something I wrote after the interesting Shabbaton I attended back in November in Crown Heights, about the prescription "a leap of faith." In that blog post, I wrote that unlike in some other religions, because Judaism is very action-based, to be Jewish requires a "leap of action" more than a leap of faith. Zalman Posner, on Chabad.org, iterates a similar idea, I think.

Judaism's shield against assimilation, the guarantor of Israel's integrity, is not its theology but its devotion to observance of mitzvot, carrying out G-d's will in daily living. Israel's ability to withstand the golden calves of all sorts is embodied in the tefillin and Shabbat and dietary laws that make Torah as much a part of life as eating and making a living. Devotion to Judaism can be developed only through using Judaism, living it. Throughout history we have seen that Jews who lived Judaism, lived; those who neglected its observance, despite earnestly professed warm feelings and love for its ideals, were ultimately lost to our people.

Posner also suggests that the constant refrain of Torah, threaded throughout the five books is that "not expounding is important, but deed."

I'd never thought about this before (though I can't seem to find any prior d'varim on it that I've written, though I know I have), and it's only in the first few lines of the parshah, but it's significant. It's a reminder that one cannot just "be" Jewish, one must "live" Jewish. There's more to being Jewish than just saying you are, right?

As we approach another Shabbat (though not for many, many more hours thanks to this crazy time change), keep the idea of living Jewish in your mind. How do you live Jewish? Belief is a part of being Jewish, but as with many things, it takes action to develop passion.

Shabbat Shalom! And don't forget that today is Shabbat Across America! Head to shul, meet some folks, get your Jew on!

A Kick Back ... Kashering!

Finally! A how-to video on kashering a kitchen!

A'Kashering We Will Go!

Target Milk? It's kosher. Yah, you heard me right, it's kosher. I've never seen the heckscher before in my life, but it's kosher. 

Last night Tuvia and I met with the rabbi (along with another couple), where the rabbi suggested that Tuvia just kasher the heck out of his kitchen for Pesach and keep on going from there. For me? Well, I keep a vegetarian kitchen out of my dorm room, so it isn't so much an issue, but it isn't kashered. So the both of us, with the urging of the rabbi and our own consciences, will be kashering our kitchens before Pesach. Mine is a bit easier than his, since all I have is a Toaster Oven (impossible to kasher l'pesach), a microwave oven, a coffee maker, and a refrigerator. So we're enlisting a friend of our's to help kasher Tuvia's place sometime in the next two weeks. In the meantime? We purge.

For the longest time I've been one of those kosher-style folk who will eat something even if it's not heckschered as long as all of the ingredients look legit. But no more! If I'm going to do this, I'm going to do this. And I'm going to do it right (what does "right" really mean anyway?). So I went through my meager supply of food and got rid of everything that I didn't think I was going to eat before kashering (or before Pesach) that wasn't heckschered. Now, I didn't just chuck it. I put it out in the lounge with a note that it's free for the taking (leaving free food for starving, poor college kids is tzedakah right?).

I have the OU Pesach guide, with all of my kashering knowledge needs, so I'll be going that route. I don't trust myself to kasher a full kitchen (thank G-d for friends!), but my little nook should be doable. Chametz cleaning might kill me, since I'm a big consumer of cereal, bread, and other chametzdik items, but it'll be fun, I think. I usually just get rid of everything in my place that is chametzdik

Pesach shopping, on the other hand, is going to be a pain in the tuches. I've usually just bought kosher-style food, not actual heckschered stuff. I dread buying pasta sauce and mozarella cheese (for matzo pizza), jelly and other simple items. I was going to go on a trek down to Monsey with some folks from shul on Sunday, but because of yesterday's meeting with the professor, my Sunday will be devoted to writing something I won't be embarrassed about. So instead I'll be shopping it up at Waldbaum's this year, and after looking through  my archives from last year ... I had a moment of pure joy. Almost lust. For what? Kosher l'Pesach Coca Cola. OH MAN. I'm going to buy some on Saturday, and maybe drink it early. I don't drink soda, but when I do, it's usually the non-HFCS kind.

At any rate, back to my cleaning and purging and making sure I order the appropriate items from TheKosherCook.com. Yes, I have a vegetarian/dairy kitchen, but some things I want to keep pareve. There's a ton of stuff I've had in this room for months that I haven't used (glass, in fact), so it'll come in handy when I get to actually kashering things. If anyone has any tips ... lemme know.

Some concluding chametz-style food for thought?

The numerical value of chometz (חמץ) is 138. This is the same as the numerical value for pegimah (פגימה), the word for blemish. Whoever eats chometz on Pesach thus blemishes his neshoma. --Rabbi Yaakov Culi

I am a Writer, Am I a Writer?

For the first time in my A-student, excellency-first life, I handed in a crap paper. It was nine pages of writing that I knew wasn't up to Chavi Quality Standards (CQS), but I handed it in anyway. In the past, I've done this, but it was only that "I rushed, it probably isn't so great, but I'll do well" sentiment, and I always managed to fly by with As on such papers. But this paper? I knew when I was writing it that it was disjointed, unfocused, miserable in form, idea, and execution. And when I gave it to the professor, I said about 30 times "please let me know if this isn't what you're looking for."

I knew it wasn't. I knew it was crap. And I handed it in anyway.

So I wasn't surprised when I got the email this morning. My alarm went off, I grabbed my Blackberry, I opened GMail, and there it was, the first email sitting in my inbox. Let's meet, it said. What a horrible way to start an otherwise (might-have-been) good day. So now, my long day -- where I go from 10 a.m. until 6 p.m. without room to breathe -- is clouded by this meeting I have in an hour, where surely I will be told "you're really bright, but ..." And I know I deserve every criticism.

I'm a good writer. At least, that's what people tell me and I need to prove to myself that I am a good writer. As a copy editor, I know what good writing is meant to look like. I know how the words should flow, how even in academic papers the prose and flow is important. Words should not feel harsh or disconnected; they should have a rhythm and be fluid. I read too many academic papers that read like math textbooks, and I refuse to be one of those academics. I want to be a writer. A good writer. An amazing writer who people read and say "Damn, I wish I could write that well!" But most importantly, I need to feel like I am a good writer. Being a good writer in other people's eyes is worthless when you can't love your own stuff.

This blog, this entire ridiculous volume of ether that I have spewed for nearly three years, is my baby. It's what made me feel good about my writing. It's what said, you aren't just an editor, you're a writer! Go for it! And so here I am, writing, again, venting, stressing, wishing I could crawl into a whole and delete that damn paper. It was a literature review, papers on the validity of the Bible, scholars who say it's a Hellenistic composition, the historicity of the stories of the Bible and how it all isn't just novel-y crap. And that's fascinating to me. It's important and big and special. It's my area of study. And I just pushed out nine pages of crap.

So maybe this is what I needed. I've felt completely out of time, out of focus this semester. I feel like I'm not doing enough, but always doing too much. So maybe I needed to be knocked off the confidence pedestal. I found out earlier this month that I had two papers accepted to a conference in April, and I found out this week that I was accepted to the Middlebury Language School's Hebrew summer Ulpan-style program. These are two massive, important achievements, and I've been riding on their high for a while now. Now? I'm deflated. Disappointed. Wondering if I'm really cut out for all of this. So maybe this is what I needed to really put it all in perspective.

Note to self: You start too many sentences with "So..."

People Really DO Care, Though!

This ties perfectly into my Rabbi asking about Twitter. Would it be inappropriate for me to send this to him? (I'm only half-joking, by the way.) Hat tip to the On Chanting blog!

I'm doing a poll.

So the poll was wonky ... I'm moving it over there into the sidebar to see what happens :)

"So is it Twitting, then?"

"Tell me about Twitter."

When these words came forth from the rabbi's mouth over Shabbat dinner, I was a little, well, shocked. I'm always blown away at how quickly I'm emailed back (considering my rabbi back in Nebraska never emailed me -- I'd have to call to get an answer to my emails days and days later), but I never expected for the rabbi to ask about Twitter. He knows well about Facebook and all those other web 2.0 giants, and I was even more surprised when another one of the Shabbat dinner guests posed the question, "Well, then, what is Tumblr?" (Just so everyone knows, not even I knew what Tumblr was.) I mean, I'm not saying I expect all people around my parents' ages to be completely inept, after all, my mom is on Facebook and MySpace. But I didn't expect the rabbi to ask for an explanation. I found myself stumped, I didn't know how to answer the question, "It's ... microblogging!" I blurted out. Another one of the guests asked in an intense Israeli accent, "What's microblogging?" And I just looked at Tuvia, in a mixture of awe and shock, while the man's wife (the one who asked about Tumblr) explained it to him. The conversation went on for some time, comparing Facebook to Twitter and explaining that it's "Tweeting" and not "Twitting" and that yes, the whole world can read your tweets if you're not set to a private account, but that yes, some people do have private accounts and that, well, yes, maybe that does defeat the purpose ...

And this was only half of the Shabbat dinner conversation.

The other half? Money. I'm always blown away when Shabbat dinners and lunches end up covering every aspect of finance and investment known to man. It seems to me that such conversations would be considered, well, as muktza as handling money on Shabbat (consult your local rabbi!). I'm only half kidding, and I'm sure some rebbe somewhere decided that such conversation was forbidden! So we heathens talked about investing now that stocks with big giants like ING are so low, learning about the market, buying and selling houses, returns on investments, interest rates! You name it. After all, Tuvia is an accountant and when people find out they're in awe, so they seek his depth of wisdom.

But this is only partially accurate. We did take a break -- between Twitter and the drowning market -- to discuss last week's parshah. The rabbi posed a question, Tuvia mentioned that Exodus 32 is my baby, and the rabbi gave his thoughts on the incident and then asked for mine. The rabbi was mostly in line with my thinking, but another fellow at the table took problem with some of my thinking. I mentioned having my two papers accepted to a conference, and at some point the dessert came out and the conversation about Torah and Talmud and all things parshah disappeared with the chomping of the rebbetzin's delicious hamantaschen (brown sugar, nuts AND honey? oh my!).

The other guests left and for the next hour plus Tuvia and I stood around with the rabbi and his wife talking about our plans -- houses, conversions, school, cars, life, our future ... by the time we got back to our host's house, the clock was striking midnight and I, completely alive and invigorated by a truly unique and warm Shabbat dinner, was turning into the obligatory pumpkin. Amid snoring and coughing, I managed to get a bit of sleep before waking up and schlepping off to morning services, where I quickied Shacharit to catch up to the Torah service. It was weird seeing the rabbi and his wife the next day, after such a personal Shabbat evening before at their home. I bid each a hearty "Shabbat Shalom!" and that was that.

I have this problem about being too personal with people sometimes, I think. I worry about comfort levels and how to act with people in different settings -- public versus private. A conversation and relationship in someone's home is not necessarily the same as it is outside that snug and comfy little box with rooms and Judaica and delicious food. You know what I mean?

But in all honesty, it was one of the best Shabbats I've had. Our host family was quite ill, the lot of them, but they were -- as always -- friendlier than anyone I've ever known. The youngest one continued to call Tuvia (whose name is really Evan) "Kevin," which gave me giggles, and cookies were the food of choice for just about all of us. And, of course, Friday night's dinner was definitely memorable and remarkably special, though I can't exactly explain why.

I suppose, in a way, eating dinner by the rabbi sort of sealed some kind of special deal. It was an official in, to the community, that is. Like a knowing glance or a firm handshake. An experience that lets you know that you're safe, you're welcomed, you're liked, and most importantly? You're home.

Artscroll, for shame!

Look at this picture. It took me almost a month to even notice it, but at shul this weekend I discovered an error in my siddur! I'm sure there are lots, but I'm usually not in editor mode while davening. Do YOU see the error?

A gold star for whoever figures it out first :) This is from the Ohel Sarah pocket edition, page 224!

Oh, and sorry it's quite blurry!

Punk Rock Meets Torah!

I was stoked to see this little bit on Atlanta-based punk rockers Can Can, whose lead man Patrick A. has started posting up YouTube videos on the weekly parshah. I'm mad in love with musicians who are also Torah savvy, like Stereo Sinai and YLove.

According to Nextbook, "Patrick, the only Jew in the band, studies Torah daily and ostentatiously flaunts his Judaism in interviews and onstage. It doesn’t come out as much in the lyrics—not overtly—although lines like “I’ve got a hand on the Bible/you’ve got your hands on my mouth” speak to the experience of being religious and existing outside the box." (And if you look carefully, Stereo Sinai was also featured in this little bit from January!)

I haven't listened all the way through, but so far I'm quite stoked to see what Patrick has to offer up weekly.