The Days of Awe Continue

When my son Michael was growing up, we had several talks about Judaism and what it meant to be a Jew. This was during the period when the three of us tried to find a place to fit into our community. We had already tried joining a Reformed synagogue and felt horribly out of place. After that we joined the Unitarian Universalist church and that lasted for two years. I wanted to quit after the first year but I didn't think one year was enough to know for sure.

There is this part of me that is unsocial and doesn't want to fit in anywhere. I call it Steppenwolf after the novel by Herman Hesse. Sometimes I'm proud of that part of me because it produces good works but sometimes I wish "the wolf" would go away and leave me in peace. I don't think I'm an easy person to live with because of the "the wolf's" presence.

What does this have to do with Michael and Judaism? During one of our conversations about Michael's heritage--because the Jewish heritage is passed down through the mother, and Judaism is part of my son's heritage from me--I asked him "Have you ever seen one of those signs that advertise for the Marines? The one that says 'A Few Good Men?' That's what it means to be a Jew. It's the toughness you're going to need to survive as a Jew in this world."

It was a good conversation and we both enjoyed it. I've been blessed with a son who likes to listen to me talk. However, it was also enjoyable to hear myself say these things out loud. I didn't realize the depth of my feelings about my Jewish heritage; by this I mean that I came to face the raw power of love and energy as a Jew that, for me, exists close to the surface.

I'm a reader and when I want to find out about something or I'm interested in something I get a book about it and read. So I've read a lot about Judaism. (One of my favorite books about Judaism is the story of life in the shtetl called Life Is With People. I'm only a few generations removed from that culture.) But the most important thing I've learned through reading about my race is that it is fluid rather than stagnant and can be interpreted by each individual. If I don't attend synagogue or "bensch licht" on Fridays at dusk or keep the kosher laws or fast on Yom Kippur I could find lots and lots of other Jews who don't do these things--and still consider themselves Jewish!!

It's a beautiful part of you that nobody can take away.

We have no Pope and when there is no rabbi present at synagogue any man or woman who has experienced bar/bas mitzvah can lead a service.

And we are the most annoying race on earth. No matter what others have tried to do to us we are still here, producing a long list of winners of Nobel and Pulitzer prizes, innovative doctors and scientists, musicians and composers whose works bring tears to our eyes, parents who make sure that their kids study hard and learn to play a musical instrument (to be well-rounded.) In
the book Life Is With People, the author lays out the traditions and philosophies of the Jews who lived in the shtetl, one of which I love: if an engaged couple was ready to be married and a death occurred in one of the families, it was commanded that the period of mourning (sitting shiva) be put aside until the engaged couple got married and rejoiced. Only then can mourning begin. It's obvious, I guess; life and love are more important than death.