An Open Letter to Orthodox Judaism

Hello, friends.

Let's talk a little bit about my relationship with Orthodox Judaism. As many of you know, I participated in a pluralistic Jewish internship program last summer, CLIP, and it changed my life. "Pluralistic" means that the program had Jewish people from across the spectrum, from those who rarely engage with the religion at all, to those who live every day in more conservative religious communities. I had never even met an American Orthodox Jew before, let alone debated religious theology with anyone before. I would say in terms of the spectrum I fell, as a Reform Jew, somewhere closer to the liberal side, but still more engaged than most of the "liberal" Jews I know.

But then CLIP happened, and I found myself questioning my personal faith journey. Was I content with going to synagogue a few times a year? Comfortable with simply wearing my plain gold Star of David necklace and hoping that at least some people saw it and recognized that I am a member of the tribe? I am so proud to be Jewish, to participate in a beautiful, ancient religion, whose moral principles I find to be the most meaningful (though I do see positive aspects to all religions), to practice a faith that even today, many people would kill me for practicing. Judaism is about faith, but it's also about acknowledging that history, the constant presence of antisemitism in our world since ancient times and just how much Jewish people have fought to keep practicing this faith. When I think about Jews as the "Chosen" people, it is about recognizing that as a religious people we are deemed to suffer from antisemitic prejudice constantly, and yet we have still so far managed to maintain our moral, religious principles in adverse situations.

Last summer, I had days when I did not want to be Jewish at all. My peers were fairly vocal about their opposition to interfaith marriage, and because I am adopted from a non-Jewish birthmother they did not consider me Jewish (something I am strongly against, the maternal bloodline determination). It felt like a hostile atmosphere (at least in the beginning), very different from what I had grown up experiencing in my Reform synagogue.

 

But then again, I saw a lot of beauty in Orthodox Judaism. The sense of community that comes from many people living out this life, a life that many people would kill them for, every day, sticking to their principles even though they are difficult, living with respect. It has appealed to me, to some degree, I am not going to pretend I have not at times thought about what it would be like to become Orthodox. And yet, I will not. So here's my open letter to Orthodox Judaism.

Dear Orthodox Judaism,

Shalom! Kudos on eating kosher, I appreciate your willpower to avoid eating bacon. But in all seriousness, your way of living is often very beautiful. In an increasingly sexualized America, when women and men head to bars in tight outfits searching for similarly lonely people to spend a few nights with, you have managed to maintain a level of respect for sexuality that I applaud. Your commitment to prayer is really beautiful. I also don't mind the "no technology" on Shabbat thing. I hate Facebook. I hate feeling the constant need to see if anyone has sent me an e-mail. I think everyone should try to take one day off from technology each week! I know there are a lot of type of Jewish people who consider themselves "Orthodox," I guess I would consider becoming "Modern Orthodox," if anything, like the ones who don't wear black hats. Oh, and as a blanket statement, I'm sorry for always forgetting to stop talking when someone washes their hands before eating. My bad.

But there are a lot of things I can't support in Orthodoxy. Like the bloodline thing--why are you using such animalistic terms to determine who is Jewish? Don't we want people raised in the religion to want to stay, and not feel like there's something physically "impure" about them? I know, I know, the Torah says it. I vote we look at the Torah again, try to find new ways to interpret that part, just as rabbinic authorities have been commenting on the Torah for millenia. And then there's the whole gender thing. I know, the religion gives a lot of respect to women, but I'm just not okay with inequality. Like men can sing solos in front of women, but not the opposite? I sing constantly. Like, in public, luckily I don't get embarassed easily but I'm guessing the people I hang out with mind sometimes. I can't help it. But only Orthodox boys can sing solos? I don't like that, just like I don't like the whole "women can't read from the Torah" thing. I love reading from the Torah. It is such a mitzvah. Can't we take another look at that passage in the Torah? And the passage about needing ten men for a minyan [to pray]? Women count as people, too...And yeah, women covering their hair after marriage but not the men, and women wearing skirts whereas men wear pants. I like pants. And hugs. Sorry if I ever accidentally hug you, I really just love hugs and I try to physically restrain myself, because I know some of your Orthodox boys do not touch girls, but I just love hugs!

In conclusion, I don't hate Orthodoxy. I would probably love the sense of community and Judaism, to be honest, if I were to become Orthodox. I have Orthodox friends, and we get along very well. But I'm going to keep singing. And reading from the Torah. And hey, maybe I'll even become a rabbi. 

I just hope that you realize that there are a lot of Jewish people like me. You might not consider me "halakhically" Jewish, but I am a type of Jewish. I feel a kinship with you whenever I see some of you walking along the streets in New York, some wearing a kippah, some with payot. We look different, but we can say the Mourner's Kaddish together. We could sing the Shema together. We could bless the bread, bless the wine, dance traditional dances together. I spend every day fighting against antisemitism. I am committed to this faith. So the next time you hear about a "secular" Jew like me, try to remember that for all our differences in opinion and practice, I love Judaism in its many different forms. 

I hope you can find some way to "love" me a fellow tribe member, even if you don't really consider me "Jewish." Think about it. 
  
Now go out and love one another.

<3,
Allyson

A Plea for Sensitivity

Hello, friends.

"Seek first to understand, then to be understood." --Stephen Covey

I hope I have made my intent for this blog clear: I want to discuss religion and especially relations between members of different faiths in an open forum, where people can publicly share their comments or dissent, and I hope to do so sensitively. I am discussing one of the three off-limits conversations (politics, money, religion) openly and unabashedly. A good portion of the time, after I put up a new post, one friend or another will get in touch saying, "You know, some of that post really offended me..." Now, I am not here to have everyone agree with me. The goal is not to have consensus on every topic, because we all believe different things. As Stephen Covey's quote points out, we should strive to understand different opinions before we share our own. I continually strive to discuss these topics, both on the blog and in actual conversations, sensitively.

But I do not always succeed.


This would be a good time to bring up something that a lot of non-Catholics do not recognize, which is just how much "Catholic bashing" goes on in the media, in public life, everywhere. Comments about the church or jokes about the religion are mainstream, whereas similar comments about other religions would be off-limits. I get that. It is a slippery slope as to what is legitimate criticism of a religion and how these criticisms should be raised (as there are many, many legitimate criticisms about the church hierarchy now and throughout its long history, which I do not attempt to deny; as a scholar of Sephardim I especially cannot eradicate the image of Inquisition-era Catholic leaders burning Jewish people alive at the stake in public "auto-de-fes" or "shows of faith" in Medieval Spain). Yet a lot of the Catholic religion can be wonderful, and the media sometimes lets the issues within the Church cloud the beauty in the religion.

So back to what happened this week. The papal conclave [a meeting of over 100 Catholic cardinals in Rome to elect the new pope] has been going on over the past few days.


The "Peepal" Conclave

Accordingly, hundred of articles, both serious and fake, have been posted about the meeting. So there was a New Yorker blog post put up recently that poked fun at the Catholic Church, and I shared it with a few Catholic friends and my mother. It turned out some found it amusing...and some found it highly offensive. For reference, the post is here: http://www.newyorker.com/online/blogs/borowitzreport/2013/03/vatican-calls-white-smoke-a-false-alarm-we-were-just-burning-documents.html.

Upon review, I can see how it could be offensive, at least the implication that the Church has so much to hide that it needs to burn documents on a regular basis. I see that, and I never meant to offend anyone by sharing it. I should have been more careful in my choice of article to share with people, because making jokes about any religion is probably not a good idea, and should always be done carefully if one decides to engage. I simply interpreted the blog post as a lighthearted way of pointing out some recent problems I see with the Church, including the fact that there have been attempts to cover up certain problems (though the comment about the last pope serving in Hitler Youth Groups is really irrelevant, as he was apparently coerced into it...).

I was still really upset, as I always am, when I found out that my actions might have offended other people, because I work so hard to think and re-think everything I write and say in order to maintain an open, respectful atmosphere of discussion. Again, it is not about agreeing with everyone. I have had numerous people throughout the past year react very negatively to some of my comments (which were purposefully phrased sensitively) because they were not comfortable with my open disagreement with their opinions. This is about making sure that when we do speak, we put thought into our words so that they convey what we feel in a respectful way in order to encourage discussion, not to put down someone else's opinion or religion.

This got me thinking about various offensive things people have said to me through the years. Many of these things were said offhand, as far as I could tell, not with any serious intent to offend me. But they still did.

1. Freshman year I realized quickly just how far I was from New York when I was talking about religion with someone, and when I said I was Jewish, she commented, "You do kind of have a Jew face." I still do not really know what that means.

2. Freshman year, almost everyone would go to Church on Sunday mornings and I would be one of the few who did not. One morning someone asked what religion I was (I suppose because I was not going to church, and she was getting ready to go) and I replied, "Jewish. What are you?" She said, "Normal."

3. At a club meeting a few months ago, we were discussing going to local businesses to get donations for a raffle auction. One of the boys in the group said, "I'll go to that store. Maybe he'll Jew me up." This apparently played on the stereotype of Jewish people being wealthy and thus more likely to give donations...but I had never heard that highly offensive expression. Luckily someone heard the comment and came to my defense before I could react.

4. Another time, I was standing with a group of Christian individuals at a party, and we were discussing the Old Testament (yes, this is what we talk about at our college parties). Comments were made about how crazy some of the stories of the Old Testament, implying that they were outdated and irrelevant. These people knew I was Jewish, and yet would not stop making jokes about a fundamental text of my religion. In an attempt to divert their attention, since I was getting quite offended at what felt like an attack, I quoted part of a book chapter I had to read that week for one of my classes that called Jesus an "Egyptian magician."

Immediately some of the group members reacted fairly strongly. It was clear that they did not realize that my comment, which had so offended them because it challenged their fundamental religious beliefs (though it was a quote from an academic source), was exactly like what they had been saying, as a group, to me. While I know they meant no harm, this situation was extremely uncomfortable for me because they did not even seem to realize just how insensitive they were being in their language. But maybe, like when I posted the New Yorker story this week, they just didn't make the connection that they were being offensive. We later joked a bit more about the incident and came to a slightly better conclusion, but I still do not forget how the conversation made me feel.

So please, feel free to comment below. Disagree with my opinions, agree with my opinions, it does not much matter. What does matter is that all of us--myself included--discuss these issues in respectful, open ways, with the intent of understanding and not with the intent of judging everyone else.

Now go out and love one another.

<3,
Allyson

My Interfaith Week

Hello, friends.

I've been back in New York for my last college spring break (!), which means that immediately my life becomes full of interfaith activities. Is this just me? Seriously, it's almost crazy how much goes on...

I flew home late Friday night, and by 9:30 a.m. on Saturday I was in a chapel with my mother for a mass honoring my grandmother who died back in December. It was a simple, Catholic service. A lot of other families were there also honoring their loved ones who had recently died, but I did not find the experience extraordinarily meaningful, I am not quite sure why, there was certainly nothing wrong with it. I did have the opportunity to see where my grandmother's ashes are interred, though, which was comforting.

Then on Tuesday I headed into Manhattan for the day. When I stepped off the train, I immediately saw hundreds of loaves of challah in Penn Station. Finally, a place that knows about Judaism! I paid a nice visit to the Center for Spiritual Life at NYU, a fabulous new initiative working towards fostering stronger connections between faiths. (Their website, for which I designed the overall look last summer during my internship with them, is www.nyuspirituallife.org.) I had a nice chat with my supervisor from last summer, and it was nice to see the work we'd put into decorating the office space still shows.

I also met with four friends throughout the day, and talked about religion with every single one of them. I love it, but somewhere along the line it seems like I became the go-to for discussing religion. Throughout my visit we discussed topics from G-d to the universe to karma to halakhah [strict Jewish law] to antisemitism to interfaith marriage to atheism, and everything in between.

Dinner was particularly great, because I was eating with a good friend of mine, who happens to adhere to halakhah. Which meant we were eating kosher. Which meant we were in a restaurant sans meat, since part of kosher rules is having a separation of dairy and meat, and this particular restaurant had chosen dairy. When he had texted me the name of the restaurant and I'd looked up the menu online, it looked super cute: an Italian restaurant, fancy food and wine, down some stairs below street level, on the Upper West Side not too far from Lincoln Center. Somewhere along the line I forgot that it would seem any different from a normal restaurant...until I walked in and saw a room full of yarmulkes. So it was an Italian place, full of religious Jews, served by a mostly-Hispanic waitstaff, with a British greeter at the door. I love New York. And by chance my outfit was modest enough that I think I fit into the atmosphere...

A few days later, back on Long Island, I went into one of our favorite local bakeries to snag a hamantaschen [a triangular-shaped cookie, usually filled with some type of fruit filling, traditionally eaten on the holiday of Purim]. I walked in, said, "Do you have hamantaschen?" and instead of the blank stare I'd received when asking the same question down in Williamsburg, Virginia, I received the answer, "Oh, yeah, the bakery owner is Jewish." The woman working in the bakery both a) knew immediately what I was looking for, and b) knew that it is a Jewish food. Score!


Hamantaschen, with apricot filling, like the one I ate yesterday.

Tonight we're planning to head over to Shabbat services at our home synagogue, where I grew up, where I was blessed as a baby, bat mitzvahed, confirmed, everything. Except for the fact that tonight is the monthly family service (a lot of young children will be there, I generally prefer normal services), it should be nice to be back. Unless this layer of snow prevents us from heading out, of course.

Then tomorrow we're going to a baby christening. This break is actually so interfaith it almost seems fake. But yes, my cousin's baby son Owen will be christened, which should be cute because he's tiny and I haven't seen him yet. My Dad and his brother (the Jewish side) both married Catholic women, hence the real mixture of Judaism and Catholicism in our family. And yet, it all works.

Now go out and love one another.

<3,
Allyson


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