Updates on Living the Interfaith Life

Hello, friends!

I recently decided that if I had a hashtag for my life, it would be #interfaithallthetime.* And I love it.  So I figured I'd do a quick rundown of the latest happenings that prove this fact true:

1. The Pope (here's a cool article) is coming to visit my university on April 10th. No joke. Here's to hoping I manage to get a selfie with him.

2. I went to a Holocaust modern art exhibit in late February with a friend of mine who is in seminary here in Rome, after he saw a poster for it. It was small, but I very much appreciated some of the pieces for their colors and difficult deeper meanings.

3. I saw nuns hitting a piñata at a Mexican-themed party, about a half-hour before our hosts passed out tequila shots (and no, I did not witness nuns doing tequila shots, sadly enough).

4. On a short trip to Barcelona this past week with a Christian college friend, we had a lot of interfaith experiences: We went to a church that had geese walking around in the courtyard, a basilica called La Sagrada Familia which might be the coolest church ever, the oldest synagogue in Europe which is in a tiny underground room in the center of Barcelona, and Reform Jewish services. I have to say, after years of researching Judaism and antisemitism in Spain, which included doing a summer research project, writing a lengthy journalism article, and writing an undergraduate honors thesis, this trip (my first to Spain) was fulfilling on so many levels. Spanish Jews! They exist! And I got to go to services with Jews in Barcelona! Pretty incredible.

The incredible Sagrada Familia basilica in Barcelona

The gorgeous colors of some of the stained glass windows

5. My (Catholic) mother wrote in a Torah, something most Jews will never even do. Our Temple apparently is a guardian of a Holocaust scroll (news to me!), a Torah that was presumably part of a synagogue in Europe that was affected and perhaps destroyed under the horrifying conditions of the Holocaust. In an effort to restore the scroll, our temple held a fundraiser where, by sponsoring a letter or a word, you could help guide the sofer's (Torah scribe's) hand while he wrote out part of the scroll. With my father out of town on business, and me living across the pond this year, my mother decided to participate in honor of both of us. I've heard the comparison that the Torah in Judaism and the Qur'an in Islam play similar functions to the role of Jesus in Christianity (as the way to get closest to G-d, the most revered part of the faith, etc.), so this was truly a once-in-a-lifetime type of experience. I am so glad that not only was my mother touched by participating, but that our synagogue offered this opportunity for people to really experience a critical part of Judaism so closely.

Mama Z with the Sofer

6. On our weekly Monday-night outing to the quiz at our local Irish pub this week, my flatmate and I were joined by two of our seminarian friends. We had a lovely time, but had to stop the gentlemen from trying to cheat by looking up the answers on their smartphones (apparently that morality class they took didn't stick too well).

7. Friday night we're hosting a Purim party in our apartment, complete with a whole mix of friends of different faiths. Wish me luck on my first-ever attempt at making hamantaschen...

Life here is really #interfaithallthetime.

How about all of you? Any interesting interfaith/ecumenical/neat religious experiences to share? Feel free to post about them in the comments.

Now go out and love one another.

<3,
Allyson

---
*A hashtag, for those who are unaware, is a phrase following the pound symbol [#] that sums up an idea and groups together other peoples' comments on the same idea. It's used on websites like Twitter and Facebook. For more info, you can read the Wikipedia page on the topic.

Individuality in Religion?

Hello, friends.

Everybody is unique, right? We have different personalities, different opinions, different perspectives, different paradigms through which we view the world. Not to say that there aren't similarities, but I doubt that it is even slightly close to possible to find somebody with the exact same views on everything (if you find that person, keep them forever). So I'm wondering to what degree individual opinion and choice does, or does not, play a role in religion.

Last week was the first week of classes for the new semester, which means I began a course called "The Teaching of Theology and Religious Communication." It is a required course for my program, so I did not really give it much thought before last Tuesday morning, but it turns out it's a class about how to teach (obvious enough once I read the title again). Considering the fact that I have always adamantly claimed that I do not want to be a teacher, this was surprisingly okay with me. When people ask me about what I do, what interfaith relations really means, it generally involves some element of knowing how to properly "teach" about religious topics, both that are a part of my own as well as a part of other religious traditions. I found the class, taught by a priest, extremely interesting--not least of all because he showed us a video called "The Butterfly Circus" without telling us anything about it in advance. So I leave it here similarly with no introduction, except to say that it deals with individual difference and choice, it's not about religion, I found it inspiring, and it is twenty minutes long (but worth it, if you have the time).* Even if you aren't able to watch that video right now, I think that individual opinion and agency is a topic that we can all ruminate on.

In terms of the importance of the individual and choice, it's important to remember that I'm certainly coming from a more liberal religious perspective. I can largely believe what I want to believe on modern issues like gay marriage and abortion. I do not keep kosher, so I am not limited in what I eat. I feel quite free in my religion to be who I want to be, and believe what I want to believe, but with the support of a worldwide progressive Jewish community. But what about those who are more strictly religious and so are meant to subscribe to a list of specific beliefs, whether that is in Judaism or another faith? I would like to discuss a case example to explain what I mean.

As a strong supporter of gay marriage myself, I would not feel comfortable attending a synagogue that preached against this. I often wonder how supporters of gay marriage, or gay individuals who are raised in the Catholic Church or any other group that somehow condemns homosexuality, deal with reconciling their feelings with their religion. I know many leave the Church.

But am I really free in Reform Judaism? What if, for example, I did not support gay marriage? Attending a liberal, Reform Jewish synagogue in New York State would not be out of the question, but I might be judged harshly for my opinion if it were to be made known. Plus, the Reform movement of Judaism does officially support gay marriage...so perhaps if I disagreed, I would similarly feel at odds with the establishment.

This case study aside, the idea of individuality in religion comes up because of my heavy involvement in Catholicism while I am here in Rome. I meet numerous priests, deacons, Catholic lay people, all of whom at least hypothetically agree with the Church's teaching on not only gay marriage, but also birth control, sex outside of marriage, the future salvation (or not) of people, proper times and frequency with which one should attend church, etc. And yet I have met many, many people throughout my life who consider themselves Catholic and yet do not agree with some of these lines of thinking. Sometimes people just ignore the conflicting views--they might continue to use birth control, for example, but still attend church regularly. Others feel ostracized for their beliefs and might not fully participate in the community. I once sat down for an interview with an Episcopal minister, and she said that she liked her part of Christianity because, "I don't have to check my brain at the door." It was an interesting, if blunt, statement, and I have given some thought to it since that interview, and how it relates to this question of individual opinion in a system like Catholicism.

I am not making an overall value judgment on the worth of individuality in religion. For many people, having this strict structure of a faith and associated beliefs is an important way in which to organize their world, and I can see the comfort in that. There is definitely some sense of stability in everyone believing the same things, doing the same things, being the same in at least this aspect of their lives. But for me, this strict form of telling me what to think would be untenable. I sometimes describe Reform as the "religion for secular people," with its generally liberal social opinions but the traditional community institutions of a religion. But if all of a sudden the movement started trying to tell me what to think about certain things, I would probably be extremely uncomfortable with it.

So what do you think? Does your religion or belief system encourage individual differences of opinions? Does it take a stance on contemporary political issues? Could you ever just ignore something coming out of your faith establishment that you felt so strongly was just wrong?

Now go out and love one another.

<3,
Allyson 

---

*Regarding the short film above, I have to wonder: if the individual struggling was gay, would a priest be showing it in our class? I am not sure.

An Interfaith Visit to Israel

Hello, friends.

I recently returned from a very intense, extremely busy nine-day trip to Israel. This visit was part of my fellowship, so it was the first trip in a while where I barely had to think about logistics at all as we were shuttled from place to place and fed huge buffets of delicious food constantly. I imagine over the next few weeks I will reflect on the trip in more detail, but I wanted to share some of my initial thoughts here before I completely over-think everything (which will happen, trust me).

The first is that Israel felt like a dream. For years, in Hebrew School, in conversations, basically every conversation having to do with the non-political side of things has involved talking about the wonders of Israel. How they serve dried fruits and nuts and all fresh things for meals. How wonderful it is to be in a place where, for once, the Jewish people are not a minority. How the weather is amazing. Well...it was all kind of true. The first night, after our flight over from Rome, we had a huge meal with great wines and fresh cheeses and little bowls of nuts. We spent hours over the next few days walking through the old, limestone, cobblestone marketplaces of Jerusalem, seeing countless little stalls selling various religious chachkas (I have never seen so many hamsas in my life). Orthodox Jews and Arabs and others walked around the city, and mezzuzahs graced almost every doorway of every building (including our individual hotel rooms). My first few days there, I was convinced I was not actually in Israel, but in some kind of Jewish theme park that couldn't be real. It did not hurt that we had near-perfect weather for much of the trip (no rain!).

We also saw some of the reality of the difficulties in the country, though. Like on our last day, when we noticed a group of twenty-year-old girls, looking like mere children, walking around Tel Aviv in their army uniforms with huge black guns casually strapped across their backs. Or when we crossed through the wall to visit Bethlehem, which was a completely surreal experience. We also drove by some of the West Bank settlements that are causing so much controversy. All in all, we only had limited discussions about politics (this was by design--since our group is about religion and interreligious dialogue, politics was not meant to be a focus), but we still saw some of these things firsthand.

The interfaith and Jewish aspects of the trip were extremely interesting. We spent five half-days studying at the Shalom Hartman Institute, a Jewish pluralistic research center. Pluralism, of diversity within Judaism, is very important today. I often find that greater strife and judgment actually comes from people without our own faith traditions, and so specific places that bring together members of different strains of Judaism--Orthodox, Conservative, Reform, Reconstructionist--are really exemplary. During our time there, we would hear lectures on different topics, such as one on feminism in Orthodox Judaism and another on the different Christian groups living in Israel. We would then spend the other half of those days touring around Jerusalem.

Personally, going to the Western Wall was very moving. For those who are unaware, the Western Wall is the most holy site on Earth for Jews because it is close to where the ancient Temple once stood. I have to say, though, I never expected my first time approaching it to be with a group of five practicing Christians--not a better or worse experience than I had expected, just different. Many Orthodox Jewish women prayed intently around us (genders are separated for prayer by the Western Wall, in accordance with Orthodox prayer practice, since Israel is run by Orthodox authorities). So I was not 100% like the Orthodox women, but nor was I 100% like my female Christian friends...I felt somewhat far away from my egalitarian, liberal, Reform Jewish community in New York at that moment. Also, in the main gender-separated area against the wall, I noticed that the women's section is smaller than the men's, even though there was open space against the wall in the men's section while women were two deep trying to just get close enough to touch the wall.

I felt I could've been more emotional, if I'd had more time than just a few rushed minutes at the wall. As it was, my group quickly shuffled off from the women's section to find the newly-opened mixed-gender prayer area. While I applaud the Orthodox governance for (finally) opening up a space for more liberal visitors, this section was difficult to find--outside of the security complex surrounding the main part of the Wall, around enormous construction works, through a gate that is not marked as the mixed prayer section in any way (we had to ask), down a long flight of stairs to what looks like an archaeological site and not a prayer site, to an empty platform, with no way to get close enough to touch the wall. Plus, there was no one there except for us. I can only hope that one day Jews of all types can pray in their own way--and properly--at the Western Wall. That said, cannot deny that I was moved at finally making it to the Western Wall. In a true example of interfaith relations at work, one of my Christian friends asked me to say a prayer, and so I sang the Shema while we were in the mixed-gender section.

After Jerusalem, our group ventured up to the Galilee, to Akko (right on the Mediterranean!), the Sea of Galilee (very peaceful), Capernaum, and Tel Aviv for the remaining three days of the trip. During these few days, we met with a gentleman at the main location for a fascinating, seemingly pro-interfaith branch of Islam known as Sufism, visited the center of the Baha'i faith just outside of Akko, and learned about the Peres Center for Peace (a grassroots organization working to improve relationships between Israelis and Palestinians) in Tel Aviv. All in all, a very interesting end to our trip.

So what will I take away from all of this? First of all, a strong desire to go back to Israel. I think going back with a Jewish group specifically, hopefully Birthright, will give me more time understand how I should feel as a Jewish person in Israel, and what it will mean for me as a Jewish person living elsewhere. Another shocking thing I have taken away from the trip was to realize that the stories of the Bible, of the Torah, they all happened in an actual place, and not some fantasy land as I guess I subconsciously thought. I mean, to be brought into the tiny basement of a church and told that Jesus was born there, was a pretty incredible thing, even for me as a Jew. I think I could not really believe Israel existed until I saw it, and I am fairly certain this will affect how I read Biblical stories in the future. I also feel inspired by the work that is going on to improve religious relations in Israel, and I pray that soon those efforts will be successful in bringing peace to this tiny nation.

So now, as the sun sets on a beautiful day back in my current city of Rome, as ever,

(Look! A present from a good friend!)

<3,

Allyson 

Namaste

Hello, friends!

Namaste: the Divine in me bows to the Divine in you. A common greeting on the India subcontinent, accompanied by flat palms, pressed together with fingers up, against the chest, accompanied by a small bow.

I love this greeting, and first had it explained to me last summer during an interfaith conference when I sat in on a short discussion of Hinduism (though members of different belief systems common to India also use it). I am writing about it now because of my impending doom exam tomorrow morning for a class I took this semester, Introduzione alle religioni orientali (Introduction to Oriental Religions). This course was in Italian, and ended up proving much more difficult for me than it should have (it certainly did not help that it was on a topic about which I am only marginally familiar, or the fact that we also have to learn vocabulary in Chinese and Sanskrit, or that it was at 8:30 a.m. on Monday mornings...). However, with a little help from the notes of a friend here who speaks infinitely better Italian than me (thank you!) and four straight days of solitary confinement in my apartment, I am slightly closer to understanding the four belief systems that I need to know about for my test tomorrow: Taoism, Confucianism, Hinduism, and Buddhism.

My primary interest in learning about religions is usually to better understand people I meet who practice these religions. This has also made it a bit hard for me to tackle the material for this course. Yes, I have met Hindu individuals in the past, and those that vaguely ascribe to Buddhism (and in 2012 I had the opportunity to hear the Dalai Lama answer a question I sent in about multifaith relations when he visited my university...check out his answer here, at 54:00--he even does the namaste-type bow!). But even so, these experiences have been few and far between, and I have never knowingly met a Taoist or someone who ascribes to Confucianism. So why learn about them?

Before, I could never understand why all people did not try to learn more about Judaism. "But it's such an ancient religion!," I'd think. "But we exist all over the globe! Plus, we're super cool!" And yet...I understand a little more now. I understand how it could not necessarily feel extremely important to everyone to learn about a religion that is a minority in their part of the world. Because I found it tough to study these Eastern religions, which seem so far away from me and with which I have never really interacted. I guess, though, I wanted to study them just in case I ever do meet someone who belongs to these groups. Additionally, a side benefit I did not expect is that learning about these systems has reminded me that the Judeo-Christian tradition that seems to envelop the whole planet...really only dominates part of the planet. Hinduism and Buddhism are some of the oldest religions on the planet (older than Judaism), and have many, many adherents. I see value in learning about them.

What do you think? Should we take the time to learn about minority religions (Judaism, Zoroastrianism, UU)? What about religions that have basically died out (ancient Greek belief systems)? Or those that some consider heretical today (paganism, Wicca)? Why, or why not?

So now, in response to my father asking me earlier today, "So what do I need to know about these belief systems?" and my previous inability to find an adequate answer immediately, I have decided to compile some interesting facts about the four systems I have been studying. Feel free to read or not as you like. This is meant simply as a brief introduction for those of you who, like me, could use some more information on Eastern traditions. Please comment if you think I am mistaken about something, or if you have something to add.

---
Taoism (sometimes called "Daoism")
"Tao" means a variety of things, primarily "way," "journey," or "path." This belief system originated in China, and is generally divided into two types: Tao-Chia is philosophical Taoism, whereas Tao-Chiao is religious Taoism. The goal of the philosophical strain is the mystical union with this "Tao," which is vaguely some type of ineffable concept. Religious Tao-Chiao is instead more concerned with achieving immortality through this union with the Tao. Apparently adherents refrain from eating grains or legumes, and also try to eat meals with foods that are black, white, yellow, red, and green. They also will not undergo surgery, all in an effort to work towards immortality by maintaining the pure, natural state of the human. This also means meditating to forget all learning.
 

Yin-Yang; white yin representing the feminine/cool/passive elements in us all, black yang the male/hot/active

Confucianism 
This belief system was the state religion of China for a while (a long time ago). It also incorporates the idea of "tao" that comes forth in Taoism, but defines the ways to achieve union with Tao in different ways. For example, Confucianism emphasizes the importance of interacting with other people in certain ways. The five primary relationships are king-subject, parents-children, husband-wife, older brother-younger brother, the elderly-the young, and Confucianism defines the proper ways to act in all of these interpersonal relationships. It also identifies the Four Divine Seeds, which are innate dispositions of people (the compassionate heart, the shameful heart, the selfless heart, and the heart that discerns between good and evil). The idea is that people have different amounts of these dispositions, so you have to cultivate them to bring some out. Study is valued, as well as loyalty/sincerity to others, and being a person of your word (for example, showing up on time for a meeting that you agreed to attend). Also, believers do not donate organs, but they can apparently donate blood.

Hinduism 
With no single founder, Hinduism involves a collection of different belief systems from India. One interesting thing I learned was that Jains and Sikhs actually somehow fall under the umbrella of Hinduism. Hinduism often gets a bad name amongst monotheists because of its belief in multiple divinities, but if I am understanding it correctly, these are actually manifestations of the same general G-d in different forms. There are three main divinities I learned about: Brahma the Creator, Vishnu the Preserver (he's blue and has four arms and often has a lotus flower and a conch shell), and Shiva the Destroyer (he had a trident and a snake). They can have different names if they are represented in certain situations, or if they are represented as women. India has long had a caste system, so that also plays in to the religion somewhat (first class "Brahmani" is priests--the "mouth" of Brahma, second class "Kshatrya" would be men in politics--the arm of Brahma, third class "Vaishnya" would be normal people--the legs of Brahma, and the fourth class "Sudra" is servants--the feet of Brahma). Most Hindus believe in reincarnation. Hinduism also makes use of the Om sound/symbol:

The "3" part on the left represents birth, the curly on the bottom right is life, the little "U" with a diamond at the top is death

Buddhism
Buddhism is based upon the teachings of Siddhartha Gautama, or Buddha. Buddhists seek to escape a neverending path of rebirth until one can achieve nirvana, and remove all suffering. It is "nontheistic," which means some lack of a belief in G-d. This somehow means that many people that ascribe to Buddhism also follow another religion (a trendy term today in the United States is "Jewboo," a Jewish Buddhist). The Four Noble Truths are the truth of dukkha (suffering, anxiety), the origin of dukkha, the cessation of dukkha, and the path to the cessation of dukkha. The two main strains in Buddhism today are Theravada ("School of the Elders," the older and more conservative strain) and Mahayana (the more popular one today). Buddhists look to the Three Jewels for refuge and guidance, which are Buddha (as an example to imitate), dharma (teachings), and sangha (community). The Noble Eightfold Path are the eight tenets many Buddhists try to live by: right view, right intention, right speech, right action, right livelihood, right effort, right mindfulness, right concentration.
---

These religious and philosophical systems have a lot more to them than this, but I figure these brief descriptions will serve as a start for those interested in pursuing further study of Eastern religions.
 

Now go out and love one another.

Namaste.

<3,
Allyson

An Anniversary

Hello, friends! A very happy secular New Year to everyone.

Today happens to mark a personal anniversary for me: it has been one year to the day since I started this blog. Whoa! As someone who has never successfully managed to keep up a regular diary, this is a minor win for me, especially since there were 34 posts in 2013 (which means I wrote on a fairly regular basis). I figure I should look back and see what has changed--and what hasn't changed--over the past twelve months. Because it's been a pretty crazy year on my end.

Last January, I was at my parent's house on Long Island, home for winter break, just as I am now. My maternal grandmother had just passed away, I had just finished one of my most emotionally-trying semesters of college, and I was still in the throes of writing a senior honors thesis (which was something I seriously doubted I would be able to finish). It was not a hugely happy time, but it was a very thoughtful one for me. I did not know where I would be mentally over the final months of college while trying to finish the thesis, or where I would be heading after I graduated, but I knew that I was passionate about getting people to talk about religion, and so I started this blog.

What has happened since then? Well, I finished and successfully defended my thesis (thank G-d).* I had some good times during my last semester of college, published this (lengthy) article on the website of the Pulitzer Center on Crisis Reporting, was invited to join the Medieval and Renaissance Honors Society (something I found endlessly hilarious, since my research really only focused on contemporary Europe, but I appreciated it nonetheless), was selected to give the student speech at my European Studies graduation ceremony, graduated from college, went backpacking through Europe for three weeks, interviewed a few religious leaders over the summer for Dan's Papers (including Rick Jacobs!), roadtripped up to Chicago with some of my closest friends, had this article about my Mama posted on the URJ blog, moved to Rome, began attending classes with mainly priests and nuns, took a few short trips around Europe in between those classes, and finally returned home to New York for a three-week vacation (during which time I've celebrated Christmas, been to Manhattan twice, threw a successful forty-person surprise party, and gotten together with a few friends). It's been a slightly busy year.

It has been a good year for this blog, too, which has only grown in the number of people reading it. According to Google Analytics, a website that tracks how many people visit websites, 2,805 unique people have visited this blog in the past year (a total of 4,326 visits). I hope that means that 2,805 people around the world are having more conversations about these topics! The highest number of visitors in a single day happened on June 30th, when I put up the blog post about my thoughts on gay marriage. Hopefully 2014 will see more people visiting, more people sharing the blog and commenting on the posts, and even more people starting to care about faith relations.

So that's a bunch of stuff that has changed for me over the past year. But what hasn't changed? Here is part of what I wrote last January in my first post, when I was just starting off on this blogging journey:

"I have had a lot of thought-provoking experiences with religion over my four years in college, and I wanted to talk about my life through the lens of interfaith relations in a more public space to encourage discussion about how we can all come together to create a stronger world."

Now, aside from adding in new locations where I have had thought-provoking religious experiences (Rome, Dachau concentration camp in Germany, Prague, Dublin...the list goes on and on), I still feel the way I did back then. We need to have these discussions. We need to consider that religion does not have to be a dividing force, but can instead bring people together in their mutual desires to improve the world and improve human relationships. But it takes every individual caring and speaking out about these things to make that dream a reality.

As some of you may know, by nature I am very futuristic, so it's time to look ahead. What do I think will happen in my life over the next year? I'm again in somewhat of the same place as I was last January, unsure of where I will be emotionally as I head back to Rome for six months (the longest span of time I've ever been out of the US). I finish in Rome in June, then I'll be back in the US next June-September working for an interfaith office in Manhattan. And after that...I am not sure. Back to Europe? Maybe. Working in the US? Maybe. Debating religion and the value of interfaith relations with everyone I meet? A very high probability. I hope you'll all join me on that last one.

Thanks for reading, and thanks to those who have shared this blog. Together, I know we can make this world a better place.

Now go out and love one another.

<3,
Allyson

*If for some reason you're interested in reading my 50-page thesis on Spain, the Jews, and Francisco Franco, here you go.
----------
If you would like to receive an e-mail when this blog is updated, you can add your e-mail address to the list via the box on the top left corner of this page.

Catholicism in Rome

Hello, friends!

Well, those were a busy few weeks! Good ones, but nonetheless, extremely busy. After having a friend visit in early November, I went up to Ireland for a trip, then my Mother came to visit for ten days, then I went to the United Kingdom for a trip. In between all of that, I went to class, took a final, and saw Pope Francis for the first time. Oy vey!

The presence of Catholicism in Rome is obviously heightened for me personally, since I attend classes that are mainly filled with priests and nuns. My walk to class in the mornings involves seeing countless collared priests heading in the same direction as me, while any trip to the restroom at my university has me surrounded by nuns from all around the world in all different types and colors of habits. I attend a very diverse university in terms of where everyone comes from on the planet.

I have looked at so many churches here in Rome that I've lost count (and never even try to remember all of their names). Most are extremely grand, echoing edifices, with various ornate details inside. I enjoy sometimes stopping in one for a few minutes, to look around, sit, think. Often I am the only one, or one of only a few people, in there. But when I think about how many of these grand buildings stand empty for much of the week in Rome alone, it is an interesting thing to think about--all of these open, empty, gorgeous buildings. A bit poetic, but it also makes me wonder what they could be used for during the week.

I get some questions from different people asking what it is like as a Jewish woman studying at a Catholic university in Rome. I would say that so far, the most important thing is that I have a much greater respect for the Church's interfaith and inter-Christian work ("ecumenism") as a result of my classes.

Especially since the Second Vatican Council, the Catholic Church has placed a very strong emphasis on reconciliation with other faiths and other Christian denominations.  For those who are unfamiliar with Vatican II, it was a meeting which ran intermittently from 1962-65 that led to a pretty revolutionary set of changes for the Catholic Church. It came about partially in response to World War II and the Shoah, with the thought being that these atrocities happened right in the heart of "Christian" Europe, and the Church should make positive changes going forward to combat religious prejudice. Not a bad ideal to work toward. The group established various councils that still exist today, including the Pontifical Council for Interreligious Dialogue and the Pontifical Council for Promoting Christian Unity (which interestingly enough includes the office responsible for relations with the Jews, whereas all other faiths are grouped in the Interreligious Dialogue Council). So basically, the Church--about twenty years after the fact, but still--realized that the Holocaust was a major problem, and was compounded by the fact that it happened in the center of modern Christendom, so they set out to try to remedy these prejudices going forward.

Additionally, one major document that came out of Vatican II is called "Nostra Aetate," and it is definitely worth reading (it's short, I promise). It lays out fairly clearly that Catholics should never participate in antisemitism, and also says positive things about Muslims. It is truly a revolutionary document in the long history of the Catholic Church, which has at times had a speckled past with its members' treatment of other faiths (the Crusades, the Inquisition, etc.). So Nostra Aetate is a big step toward better relationships with other faiths. Sadly, though, as several people have pointed out to me, there has not been an appropriately large Jewish response to this document, due in part to the lack of a central body representing the diverse Jewish groups around the world as the Vatican represents Catholics. However, Jewish individuals have praised it on an individual and sometimes small group level, and I would like to join that group:

Dear Catholic Church, 

Thank you for Nostra Aetate. Even if it is a simple document, its words mean a lot and as a Jewish person, I appreciate many of the sentiments expressed therein. I hope we can all move forward together in this positive direction. 

Sincerely, Allyson Zacharoff

Another thing that I have come to realize is just how many people on the planet do not get married or have sex as a result of the Catholic faith. I always knew that priests and nuns pledged to remain celibate and dedicate their lives to Jesus, but when I am home in the U.S. it is easy to ignore this. How often do I see a priest or a nun back home? Maybe once a month, maybe, so it does not seem like that many people are affected by these rules. But now I am surrounded by them, and see dozens of these religious folks walking around Rome every day. Old people, young people, all ages. It is shocking to realize just how many there are out there. I wonder, though, if having church leaders who cannot fully engage in the human life of marriage and having children is wise, for both their congregations and for their personal fulfillment. I certainly do not have an answer to this, and obviously have no authority in this realm, but I am strongly in favor of these religious people being allowed to get married. I am aware of many of the arguments against this--and by chance the class readings I am doing tonight is on the very topic, but I still think it would be a good idea to allow them to marry. Also, I have fairly recently learned about Catholic people known as "consecrated virgins," who are not priests or nuns, but decide to remain celibate forever, presumably to do work for the Church. I still do not really understand this idea, so please comment if you can help me understand it better!

I also had the opportunity to visit the English College in Rome, a residence and seminary for priests primarily from England and Wales. It is a very nice building, complete with multiple chapels, a small garden, and a rooftop terrace. However, their main church was covered with paintings of various martyred saints. In Judaism, we certainly remember and honor those who have died for the sake of standing up for Judaism, but it's a different idea from that of the reverence of martyrs in Catholicism. I guess I had forgotten just how strong this reverence can be, until I saw the numerous blunt images of people being beheaded, or with their noses cut off, or being killed in any number of brutal ways. I grew nauseous after a while, to be honest, and do not think I could comfortably pray every day in a place with such images. That was an interfaith experience, for sure.

I guess, in response to those who ask what it's like to study at a Pontifical University as a Jewish woman, it's probably overall been a bit easier than I imagined. Yes, we start some of my classes with a prayer that I do not feel comfortable participating in, but some are very nice even if I choose not to participate because of their mention of Jesus. I've taken two classes with two different rabbis, so I've gotten some good Jewish time that way. And my professors are largely great with explaining things that I might not understand as well as the rest of the class...like the New Testament. (Incidentally, the same priest who kindly explained the New Testament to me also sent me a "Happy Hanukkah" e-mail out of the blue last week. How great is that? Really made me feel appreciated for who I am.) I also expected to disagree with my professors more often than I have.

One great thing: I got to see Pope Francis! I attended one of his weekly papal audiences on November 20th with my mother when she visited recently. I think I have made it clear in the past on here how much I like him, for his interfaith work and humble spirit, so it was exciting to see him in person. He kissed a ton of babies that morning, and just seemed really great. Well, now there's another reason to appreciate him: he has decided to establish a task force in response to the sex abuse scandals that came out a few years back with priests sexually abusing children in their parishes. This article says it is too little too late, but given the heavy criticism from many about the lack of an adequate response from the Church, I am glad that the pope is at least doing something about it.

Papa F, outside of St. Peter's Basilica on November 20th

There are a lot of other crazy interfaith or really not-interfaith things going on (possibly banning kosher slaughter in Poland, what?), but I will leave it here for now. A happy late Thanksgivukkah to everyone, I hope you marked this exciting dual holiday with some cranberry sufganiyot or something. And Happy Advent to anyone who celebrates that--may the Christmas music commence!

Now go out and love one another.

<3,
Allyson

Feeling Othered

Hello, friends.

I wanted to write today a bit about my recent experiences with Judaism. For those who are unaware, the capitalized word "Other" is apparently now an academic term used in various disciplines to describe someone made to feel like they are not part of the group in some sociological context. It can also be a verb--for example, a group of friends all of a sudden starting to speak in a foreign language when one member cannot understand that language would be "Othering" that individual. Upfront: I think it's a bit of a silly term since it does not sound very academic at all, yet it is ultimately very useful so I will use it in this post.

So I've written in the past a bit about being a patrilineal Jew (i.e. my father and not my mother is Jewish, which breaks strict halakhah/Jewish law), as well as being adopted from birth from a non-Jewish birthmother. For many strictly-defined Jewish communities (technically the theology of both the Conservative and Orthodox movements in American Judaism), I am not considered Jewish. Not because my mother, who raised me, is not Jewish (even though she is not), but because the woman who gave birth to me and who did not raise me in any way, is not.

Okay, I have now known about this very strict Jewish rule for over a year. I learned about all these halakhah standards--things I thought only still existed in the fictional "traditional" world of Fiddler on the Roof, and including things like men and women not even shaking hands in public--during an amazingly informative summer in New York City with a very diverse group of young Jewish college students in 2012. Some of my peers told me that, according to their definitions, I did not fit in the Jewish people. It was very shocking to be told, at 22, that no, I was not Jewish. Obviously, the opinions of these groups of Jews did not affect my self-understanding too greatly, as I always had Reform Judaism, my home tradition, to fall back on.

As I have always understood it, Reform Judaism is much more accepting generally speaking. We do not feel strictly bound by halakhah, and instead choose what practices have meaning for each of us on an individual level. This also means my movement is to an outside observer seen as more "secular," since many of us do not eat kosher or go to shul every week, for example. However, we tend to live our religion out in different ways. For me, going to Reform synagogue when I can (difficult in an Orthodox-dominated place like Europe), and studying antisemitism and interfaith relations is important to my understanding of what it means to be a Jew.

But also, on a movement-wide level, we can support things that somewhat break with traditional Jewish law in our interpretations of it. For example, my movement is generally very welcoming to families that might otherwise be excluded from religious communities--families with same-sex partners, for example. During the US Supreme Court rulings on same-sex marriage and federal benefits back in June, the Union for Reform Judaism (URJ) filled my Facebook newsfeed with supportive rainbow flags. The way this has always related to my life is in the acceptance of my mixed-faith family, with my mother being welcomed into our synagogue, and always feeling like an equal member of the congregation myself--despite being adopted from a non-Jewish birthmother.

There was literally no mention that some Jews hold onto "bloodline" definitions throughout my 18 years of Hebrew School education, at least none that I remember.

Then, about a month ago, I found that disturbing URJ web page I mentioned briefly at the end of my last post, about adoption (here it is again: http://www.reformjudaism.org/we-are-adopting-baby-boy-we-had-him-circumcised-must-he-undergo-conversion-ceremony-be-jewish). The answer to the question posed on the website of "I have adopted a baby, do I need to have him converted?" was answered by Rabbi Stuart Federow and reads as thus:

Yes, he must undergo conversion to be Jewish. The reason is quite simply that the conversion ceremony is the "naturalization" ceremony that makes one a "citizen" of the People of Israel. Without it one would not be considered to be a Jew, in the same way that one who immigrates to the U.S. is not considered a citizen of the U.S., until he or she is naturalized. Similarly, you may get rights and privileges, palimony and the like, if you were not legally married to your husband, but without the legal marriage you would not be his wife.

Understandably, it disturbed me. Why would a baby, raised completely in the Jewish faith from birth (or soon after), need to be "converted?" This conception of Judaism as a "race," in which someone belongs only if the woman who gives birth to him or her is Jewish, seems to me a strong tool for Othering. It does not fit with what I have always been told (in Hebrew School, and by the admissions folks over at the Reform rabbinical school HUC in NYC), and since I'd never undergone some "conversion," despite being heavily involved in the life of my synagogue growing up, I was pretty sure this was also incorrect. So I wrote to URJ.

The response I received was...unfortunate. Instead, Rabbi Victor Appell from the URJ said that the post was correct, citing several sources that also say that children born to "gentile" (i.e. not Jewish) parents would need to undergo conversion, but that the movement respects the right of individual Reform rabbis to interpret the tradition in their own way.

Talk about feeling Othered. All of a sudden, not only do the Orthodox and Conservative communities not want me, but here I found myself two weeks ago, sitting in my apartment in Rome, every day representing Judaism and fielding questions about my faith from all the Christian people I meet, being told that not even Reform wants me.

Well that was the opposite of a fun night. I alternatively went through the various emotions that have been bubbling beneath the surface ever since 2012--if so many Jewish people don't want me in the group, why should I fight so hard to stay in? I study religion largely for the practical implication of helping people get along and cease all this fighting over religion--do I really want to do it any more, considering how divisive religion seems to be in my own life? And even more importantly, do I want to be part of a religion that would be this excluding towards people like me?

Eventually I calmed down and wrote to Rabbi Stephen Karol, the rabbi in my home congregation. I was relieved when I received a very strongly-worded e-mail of support and reassurance back a few days later, which included the idea that most Reform rabbis would be more concerned with how a child is raised as opposed to the supposed "purity" of their bloodline. Also, if Wikipedia is to be believed at all, we also have another vote in the category of "it matters more how someone is raised:" http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Matrilineality_in_Judaism#Reform_Judaism.

It is clear that I was raised in the right congregation, as both Rabbi Appell and Rabbi Karol said. Since rabbis are allowed to hold their own individual positions on this and most religious topics, I will need to be careful when looking for Jewish groups to join--even if they're Reform. I know there are divisions in every religious group, and many times even within individual congregations, but it is still never easy to have to fight for acceptance.

All of that aside, I also had a lovely experience when I was in Dublin on Friday night when I attended a Reform-style synagogue for a communal Shabbat dinner, service, and text study. It was the first time I have been to liberal Jewish services outside of the United States, and I was extremely delighted to recognize some of the melodies for the prayers (which even within the United States at Reform synagogues is not always a given...). There was a whole mixture of Jewish people there, from young children and people my age up to older folks, and we were from the UK, Ireland, the US, and maybe even some other places. I felt really blessed that they accepted me into their community without hesitation. It helped me remember why I'm proud to be Jewish--not because of all this infighting, and theological differences, and disagreements that divide us, but because when it comes down to it, we really do try to look after one another, and the world.

Now go out and love one another.

<3,
Allyson