Tag Archives: Jewish conversion

Snapshots of my Jewish Journey

– Tikkun Leil Shavuot was amazing. The husband and I went to it together. There was song, a Kabbalah class (we were part of a living representation of the Tree of Life, which was really neat), some videos that Rabbi felt we should watch on how big the universe really is (which he then related to Torah teachings) and a small service in the sanctuary to close things up.

– My husband and I went to lunch yesterday and admired a very cute baby at the next table. The baby’s father smiled and said “He actually has a Hebrew name.” (For the life of me, I can’t remember it – I know it started with “N” and had a “ry” sound in there somewhere, but that’s all.) So we said “Well, shalom, little guy!” I was wearing my kippah and we both had our Mogen Davids on, so I don’t know if the father was Jewish or not, but he felt the need to tell us that his son had a Hebrew name, which I thought was kind of cool.

– My best friend, my husband, and I went to a used bookstore next door to the local Jewish deli a few weeks ago, and she found this amazing siddur and bought it for me as a gift. It has a metal cover, and inside the siddur itself covers most of the holidays and the Shabbat service.

siddur-avodat-metal-turquoise

– My husband and I are going to start a Beginning Hebrew class in July, and our second conversion class starts on the first Wednesday in June. I’m excited and nervous about both of those things, and I wish Duolingo would get their Hebrew class up and running already (but hey, at least it’s in development).


I realized the other day that it’s been more than a year since I started this blog, and I’ve learned a lot since I started it. At the same time, I’ve also settled down. I will be officially a Jew before the High Holy Days – in fact, I need to contact the mikveh folks to see if they’re open on the morning I want to go there, because it’s a Friday – and it seems like the most natural thing in the world to me. Occasionally I’ve felt a twinge of “am I being presumptuous?” but that, I’ve found, is more about past abuse and not about whether this is right for me or not.

It is right for me. It is me. She’asani Israel.

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(Jewish) Life, in a Nutshell

My semester is pretty much done. I filed my grades on Thursday and Friday, and hopefully I can plan better for the next semester. This semester was insane – I overloaded myself with grading, and because I was sick early in the semester, I was running behind right up through the last week of classes. That wasn’t fair to me or to my students. I have resolved to do better in the coming semesters.


Before our last Intro class on Wednesday, the husband and I also had to go to the make-up class on Yom Kippur, which we missed because we were both sick with the flu in the fourth week of the class. That was interesting as it was just 45 minutes in the rabbi’s office with two other people who were also taking the make-up. There was no Mr. C. We had a good class, and part of me feels that it was because he was not there.

My husband made an observation that “Yom haKipurim” had “Purim” in it, which floored Rabbi. He said “You’ve gone about six levels deeper than I’d planned to!” Then he told us how the Kabbalists feel that “kipur” – the root of “kipurim” – can be read either as “kipur,” or “to afflict,” or it could be read as “ki” – “like, or similar to” and “purim” – the celebration of Purim. Some Kabbalists apparently feel that in the World to Come there will only be two holidays observed – Yom Kippur, and Purim. They are balances to one another; Yom Kippur is about repairing our over-indulgence, while Purim is about repairing our under-indulgence.

My husband is going to be a Kabbalist. I can see this happening.


Our Intro class finished up on Wednesday. The class was about Shavuot, but most of the class time was taken up with Mr. Christian once again trying to hijack the discussion. By this point, my husband and I knew that everyone in the class finds Mr. C irritating, so it wasn’t as bad as it could have been otherwise, but I did finally have to get up and leave for a few minutes (ostensibly for the bathroom) when Mr. C. got into it with one of the other group members, who had finally called him out on something he said. Later, I told her that I hadn’t left because of what she said, but because I wanted to brain Mr. C with my laptop. (Her comment: “That’d be a waste of a good laptop.”)

Thankfully, Mr. C. won’t be in the later class for those who will be converting. Rabbi sent out an email saying that for those who are formally embracing Judaism, the new class will start in June. Since Mr. C. is only interested in “learning” (read here: telling us all about how HIS religion does what we’re talking about, even though none of us could care less), he isn’t part of that group.

Rabbi also took Mr. C. aside during the break of the last class and informed him that it would not be appropriate for him to be part of the new class. Apparently Mr. C. got upset (his back was to me, and it was loud, so I couldn’t hear his reaction – but those who could hear confirmed he was upset) but oh well for him. I have so little sympathy for him at this point that it’s sad.

Another class member said to me, “Now he’ll say that the Jews hate him, too.” (He’s already said the Episcopalians hate him. Gee. I WONDER WHY. Christians, if you want people to take you seriously, trying to hijack a class that’s about a different religion so you can talk about your religion is not the way to go about it. I know that 99% of you don’t do this, but the 1% that do make all of you look bad, just as the behavior of the haredim at the Kotel makes all Jews look bad to the rest of the world.) As an autistic man, I know I’m socially clueless, but this guy makes me look like a social virtuoso by comparison.

I’ve friended almost all the other class members on Facebook, and most of them are going on to the formal class. I’ve sent in my final exam, so I should be getting a shiny certificate saying that I completed the class. Whee!

One of the things that came up when we finally did get into the Shavuot lesson was how Shavuot was a move from just celebrating the harvest to celebrating the receipt of Torah, and the argument about how to measure the calendar days to it. The Sadducees (who were the urban, upper-class, priestly class, who rejected the Oral Torah) wanted to measure it in a way where it would not be the same date every year; the Pharisees (predecessors of the Rabbis, who were the regular Joes who argued for the Oral Torah, among other things – the liberal group) wanted it measured so it would always fall on the same date every year. The Pharisees won that argument.

I find it somewhat amusing that so many Christians lack the context of rabbinic argument, so they read the Christian Bible and see its stories of the Pharisees and the Sadducees challenging Yeshua ben Yosef on points of Torah interpretation as “they’re trying to trip him up and make him look stupid!” when that isn’t the case at all. It was, frankly, description of a discussion between rabbis of different branches, and in many ways similar to what we see in the Talmud of descriptions of rabbis arguing fine points of Torah law and interpretation. There is some evidence that Yeshua was an Essene (another, smaller sect of Jews at the time of the Second Temple’s destruction). In that case, the “challenges” from the Pharisees and the Sadducees were simply rabbis arguing points of Torah interpretation. That sort of knocks the props out from under Christianity for me (again).

One other thing that came up just in passing during that last class: the Mishnah is the Law, and the Talmud is the interpretations of that Law. Good to know! If the beit din asks me that in September, I won’t look like a fool when I answer them.


In other news, the husband and I are planning to go to the Tikkun Leil Shavuot at our shul later this month. It’ll be interesting to see how it’s different from the one I went to last year at the Shul Down the Street.

My husband has told me he’s not ready to go to the beit din and the mikveh yet, and he’s planning on spring for that. I’m fine with that; it’s totally his decision, of course. But the other day he said “We’re Jewish,” for the first time. Up until now he’s avoided saying it because he hasn’t been to the beit din or the mikveh, but I think something clicked for him that becoming Jewish isn’t something that just happens when you go into the mikveh. It happens along the way.

I read an article a few months ago about the mikveh (I wish I could find it, but a Google search hasn’t helped me). I liked the idea behind it – it was a convert saying that going to the mikveh does not wash away his past. Rather, it adds a layer of Judaism to what’s already there. The mikveh as an additive process, rather than a subtractive one, is a powerful idea for me.

So that’s what’s going on in Shocheradam land. How about you?

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It’s going to happen.

I just had an email exchange with my rabbi.

It looks like my mikveh date will be in September before the High Holy Days if all goes well.

Let us hold firmly to all going well.

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Update on Mr. Christian

It’s been a busy few weeks, so I haven’t had time or energy to post here. But here’s an update on what’s going on with Mr. Christian in our Intro class.

Two weeks ago tomorrow, we got out of class (a great class on Purim). As my husband and I were leaving, Mr. Christian … not quite confronted us. He was asking about the “next class,” meaning the one being held for the people who are converting after the Intro class is over. It’s going to be a fairly intense seminar and only (I hope) for the people who are actually going through conversion, which wouldn’t include him since he’s not converting. He seemed very disappointed when my husband and I both said that it was probably only for people who were planning to convert. 

Then he said, as we got to our car, “Am I monopolizing the class?”

So I was honest with him. Uncomfortably so, and not aggressively so, but I did say the following.

“The thing is, it’s a class on Judaism. Many of the people here came from Christianity and we’re not interested in hearing about that. We’re interested in learning about the religion we’ve chosen. It’s hard when you keep mentioning Jesus. I know that you are very passionate about your faith, and I’m not saying there’s anything wrong with that, but several people in there, including me, came from a Christian background and found it lacking or abusive or both. I admit it does make me uncomfortable when you bring up your religion, because I’m not here to learn about your religion. I’m here to learn about my religion.”

He chewed that over for a moment and then said “So I should dial it back about ten notches.”

When I said “That would help,” he said, “Maybe twenty notches.”

So we’ll see. I spoke my truth to him, at least, and maybe now he’ll realize how much he’s made people uncomfortable. We’ll see. There was no class on Purim (last Wednesday) so we’ll see how it goes tomorrow…

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Dear Mr. Christian, please take your ball and go away.

The Intro to Judaism class was interesting tonight. We had a visiting rabbi because our rabbi was out ill. The class topic was nominally about Rosh Hashanah, but we went all over the place.

Intro to Judaism is not technically just a “conversion” class, although most of the people taking it are either already Jews who want to brush up on their own heritage, or people moving towards conversion. But there’s a guy in this class who just can’t seem to stop talking about how he’s a Christian. He mentions it, oh, every third sentence at least – and he really likes to talk. Makes a point of reminding us that his savior is a Jewish carpenter. (Because, you know, we don’t already know this from the last twenty-six times he’s said it.) Every single time he opens his mouth (and he opens it a lot), it’s to tell us how what was just said relates to his religion. As if this isn’t a class on Judaism so much as a class on the Jewish background of his religious beliefs.

I truly don’t think this guy is here to learn about Judaism. It feels like he’s there to screw up the class. He keeps derailing the conversations, and I’m frankly sick of it. Yes, okay, fine, you’re learning more about your religion by learning something about ours. That’s not the point of this class – were you aware of that? Do you get that this is not a class about Christianity, and that you’re annoying at least half the people in the room?

I hope he got the message tonight, but I don’t know. We got on the topic of Moshiach, and the visiting Rab talked about a few of the various pseudo-Moshiachs we’ve had over the years (such as the Bar Kochba, whom even Rabbi Akiva was skunked into believing in). And yes, the rabbi mentioned “that Jewish carpenter” as an example.

The Rab made a point of saying to Mr. Christian that he was doing his best not to give offense, but he still shut him down, all very politely, with some pointed explanation. He covered a) why Jews do not believe the Moshiach has come, b) an explanation about what that word ACTUALLY means (king, not spiritual leader), c) how Saul of Tarsus was an opportunist who rejected everything taught in Torah, pretty much, d) how Jews don’t practice human sacrifice and, sorry, that Yeshua ben Yosef qualifies as an example of that very thing, and e) that the title Moshiach has been part of the titles of every Jewish political king in our history – “Moshiach Adonai,” to be exact.

Frankly, given this guy’s pushy behavior, I am impressed that the visiting Rab was so compassionate. But I’ll be honest: even he couldn’t resist getting a little snarky: “Yeah, Jesus of Nazareth had a few followers – twelve of them.” Which then segued into the point that most followers were not of Jesus but of Saul of Tarsus…

After that whole discussion, Mr. Christian was very, very quiet. Apparently he’s now facing that Judaism is not just “Christianity without Jesus.” And he doesn’t seem particularly happy about it.

He may be there to learn, but I just get the sense that his constant mentioning of his own religion qualifies as at least being pushy, if not quite evangelizing. And in fact, the Rabbi also said that, that most of the Christians Jews have had to deal with have been very pushy. I don’t think he liked hearing that, either.

And the Rabbi talked about why – because it seems that Christians think we’re stupid for not accepting their beliefs. And yet we don’t think Christians are stupid for not accepting ours. The guy then objected “Well, evangelicals do…” and the Rab agreed, “Yes, and fundamentalists, too.”

Did I mention this guy’s faith ends in “Orthodox”? It’s a fundamentalist faith.

(I also thought it was in supremely bad taste that he told the Rabbi – before this happened – that he had bought a used copy of the book this Rabbi wrote for use with this class, and was proud of it. That’s another thing he’s mentioned every single class so far, that he found all the books used on Amazon. To me that just seems tacky, especially in front of the author of one of the books.)

I don’t want to be annoyed by this guy any more. And I don’t want to come into the room in dread. And I don’t want to be flinching every time he opens his mouth, because I know what’s going to come out of it.

But the fact that it bothers me, bothers me. I want to be a compassionate person, but how far do I have to go with the compassion with a person who is trying to derail the class? Does it change the requirement for compassion if the person is malicious instead of clueless? If he’s doing it on purpose, instead of because he doesn’t know any better? I honestly can’t tell if he’s being clueless or if he’s being passive-aggressively malicious. Even writing about it here makes me feel like I’m committing lashon hara, but I need to work through this somehow.

My husband says “You can be compassionate because this is another human being who is trying to learn. And you don’t have to like it that he keeps saying ‘Well, MY god does this and this and this.’ You’re being compassionate by listening to him. You don’t have to agree with him.”

That’s true – and I don’t agree with this guy at all. But how obligated am I to treat this person kindly, when he’s trying to make the class all about HIS religion instead of OUR religion? And frankly, there are several people who are LEAVING his religion in this class – is he even aware that his constant mention of his religion is harmful to that group of people? To me?

No, I guess he’s not aware. But now I don’t know how to handle this. I’m considering a email to our rabbi, but it’s going to have to have a light touch. I’m honestly not sure how to say it other than bluntly: “This guy is making the class very uncomfortable for me in ways that are harming my ability to learn and listen to the lessons you are teaching.”

I mean, I have to deal with evangelizing Christians all the time. I shouldn’t have to put up with it in the class I’m taking to convert to Judaism, should I? Is that part of what I have to be compassionate about to be a Jew? Is there no good way to draw the line?

Edited to add: A friend, on reading this, said that he’s like the guy who takes a Women’s Studies class to say “But not all men do that!” But what it’s really like is a guy who takes a Women’s Studies class to say “Wow, this class is teaching me so much about how to make women like me!” Which has a Creepy Factor of 10/10.

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I have no idea what this post will be about.

I’ve been feeling a pull towards good Jewish art lately. I have a touch of the art bug myself, but one of the main venues I used to use to indulge it is no longer available to me (by my decision) so I’ve been a little bit… at loose ends about it. I might come back and indulge that once I’ve looked at more Jewish art. I don’t want whatever I do to be cliché (menorahs, dreidels, hamsas, and Mogen Davids come to mind). What says “Jewish Art” to you? I’m curious.

We’ve adopted two cats this past weekend, and I am happier, although the one we thought would be “my” cat keeps hiding whenever we’re in the room. The other is demanding, social, and apparently believes his job is to make sure I hold him. Like, a lot. This might be why I’m not doing a whole lot of writing lately.

Our Introduction to Judaism classes start on Wednesday – tomorrow. I’ve been waiting for it and now it’s finally here; I can’t quite believe it. My husband is in negotiations with his job to switch his shift next Wednesday as the schedule he has will interfere with our second class. This reminds me that I need to do the filing and locate our receipt for the class. The temple has a deal, financed by one of its wealthier members, that subsidizes part of the cost of the class for people who have been attending and intend to convert.

I thanked my husband for being willing to fight to get that day off, and he said “Honey, I’m doing this for me, not just for you.” Which really means a lot to me. We went to a morning Torah study on Shabbat morning this past weekend as well, and he had some fantastic insights. He didn’t realize it until afterwards, but I pointed it out to him. I’m so glad and so proud that he’s doing this with me and for himself.

Shabbat this weekend is going to be pretty quiet for us. We’re going to go to morning services on Saturday morning, but other than that (and lighting candles on Friday night of course) we don’t have a lot planned. And maybe that’s better. I’m buried in work; prepping classes for this coming semester that starts a week from Monday, so it’ll be nice to have a Shabbat that really is for rest.

That said, I should get back to work.

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A comment to a post on Kveller: Coming Late to the Party, But Glad That I’m Here

When I saw the blurb for this post at Kveller.com on Facebook, I did a double-take. I, too, grew up Catholic and dabbled in paganism and Wicca (and atheism) before finding Judaism just last year.

And although I came to Judaism for different reasons than the writer did, I identify specifically with this:

“Somewhere along the line, I became Jewish. It wasn’t at the mikveh (Jewish ritual bath), it wasn’t at the formal meeting with my Beit Din (rabbinical court) during my conversion process, and it wasn’t during a year’s worth of discussions every month with the rabbi.”

I have yet to stand before the Beit Din or go to the mikveh – that’s next summer. But I have been a part of the Jewish community at my synagogue for nearly a year now, waiting to take the formal classes that will allow me to go to the Beit Din and the mikveh. And somewhere along the line, I became Jewish too. I attended High Holy Days services and prayed with everyone else. I attend Shabbat services at least once a month, and more if my husband’s work schedule permits it. I have Shabbat dinners for friends and family at least twice a month. I’ve already paid for my Introduction to Judaism classes that start next month.

I pray the brachot every time I eat. I pray the Sh’ma morning and night and find comfort in it. My home is a Jewish home – it has a hanukkiah on the bookcase, a siddur and a Torah commentary on the coffee table, a hand-painted besamim box and havdalah candle holder on a shelf near the dining table, Shabbat candlesticks in the dining room, a box of Shabbat candles in a kitchen cabinet… I find myself humming Jewish and Israeli songs pretty much constantly. I wear a kippah and a Mogen David openly, and I dream of the tallit that I’ve picked out and the day that I finally get to put it on. I found my faith and my people.

My rabbi told me that conversion happens “along the way.” It’s not about the moment at the Beit Din or the mikveh. It’s about the point at which “us” comes to my lips much more easily than ‘they”. When my first response is “I’m Jewish.” When I know that I’m a Jew so deeply that I don’t even have to question it.

I’ve passed that point. The rest, as was once said about the Torah, is commentary. It’s a commentary I’ll be learning for the rest of my life, but it’s okay that I, too, came late to this party. The point is that I came to the party, no matter when it happened.

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Coming Up For Air

So, a few things have happened since my last post.

1. I got legally married. My husband and I planned very carefully to make sure we could get married on a Friday without violating the Sabbath. We got married about ten minutes before sundown on October 31st, surrounded by friends. It was lovely.

2. There’s a very good chance that we will reprise the wedding next year as a religious wedding, with a huppah and everything. The other night my husband told me that there’s a 99% chance he’s going to convert with me. We’ve started attending the Taste of Judaism classes at our temple, and we’re definitely taking the Introduction to Judaism course that starts in January. There’s a very good chance we’ll take our mikveh dip at the same time.

3. I have purchased our own copy of the siddur used at our temple – the Mishkan T’Filah Reform Siddur. Last night we did Havdalah together and included a few readings from the siddur as part of it. (I wish I could find a recording of Elana Jagoda’s Havdalah song that was available as an MP3 instead of only on YouTube, though.)

4. There is no fourth thing.

5. I have been overwhelmed with work and other issues, which is why I haven’t been posting. I’m sure that “getting married” counts as something overwhelming, doesn’t it?

I’m also working on my antipathy towards the fundamentalists in my own faith. I have to get past this; it’s making it hard for me to practice tikkun olam. Reading part of Spiritual Activism by Rabbi Avraham Weiss (an Orthodox rabbi who calls for unity among all Jews and does not judge non-Orthodox Jews – for the most part) helped. I may talk about that in a few days.

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The Spirit of the Law and the Value of NOT Doing It All

"Sunrise Los Angeles" by Bryan Frank on Flickr. Used under Creative Commons license.

“Sunrise Los Angeles” by Bryan Frank on Flickr. Used under Creative Commons license.

Things looked better on Shabbat morning. And fortunately, that continued for the rest of the day into our afternoon at home and our evening with friends. 

Things usually do look better in the morning, did you ever notice that? Something about sleeping on it really does help fix most of the problems of low spoons, lack of energy, and general overwhelm.

Of course, I was trying too hard. I was trying to live by every rule, everywhere, to be a perfect Jew, even as I had admitted that it’s okay not to be perfect. There’s a definite difference between saying it and practicing it, and G-d called me on it on Friday, I think. I was at the end of my rope, frazzled, tired, worn out, overwhelmed, and still thinking I could somehow put together the equivalent of a holiday dinner AND bake challah for the next day’s temple Kiddush service when I was almost completely out of cope and energy. I was convinced that I could still follow all the rules and make things somehow come out perfectly even though I was scraping the bottom of the energy barrel.

Reality. It hits you in the strangest ways. Obviously none of those things happened. I’m just glad that the fallout was a few pieces of dough hitting the coffeemaker and the carpet, and nothing worse than that (like a cut hand due to a knife accident, or a concussion because I slipped and hit my head on a wet floor). 

It occurred to me this morning that one of the things I find so healing about Judaism is that Reform Judaism is not a rule-bound system. I grew up with a strong and frightening sense that if I didn’t follow every rule perfectly, all the time, to the letter, then I was in big trouble. Yesterday’s experience at temple in the morning, where I participated in the mid-service Torah study, and where I was reassured that everyone has had kitchen disasters and not to worry – we’ll love to try your challah next week, showed me it’s the spirit of the law, not the letter of the law, that we’re trying to get at here. People (and G-d) don’t expect perfection. They expect an honest effort. They don’t expect me to do it all correctly the first time. They expect me to focus on doing my best to do a little bit better next time.

It’s not about perfect adherence to the rules. If that was all it was, any religion would do. 

My life before Judaism didn’t allow a lot of time for contemplation or doing things deliberately. Due to some disabilities I have, for example, getting dressed in the morning can be a very complicated process. If I put on my jeans before I put on my socks, it’s harder to reach my feet, for example, because that restricts motion enough that bending my knees far enough to reach my feet becomes almost impossible. But there have been times when I’ve been rushing because I feel like I’m late (I rarely am) and then I have to undress and start all over again, usually berating myself for not paying attention well enough. Eating deliberately? What’s that? I have still caught myself being halfway through the meal before I realized I haven’t really tasted it (and that I haven’t said the brachot yet), and then kicked myself for it. I wasn’t raised with the habits of deliberation or contemplation. I was raised with the habits of rushing, doing it quickly, getting it done, and getting on to the next thing. While going to church was calming, it was only one hour a week. That’s not enough to get used to being calm and quiet (and for me it was always upset in the middle by the angry sermons I had to sit through). 

But with Judaism (at least as I’m practice it), it’s not about rushing out of bed and running around like a headless chicken trying to get six things done before breakfast so that things are always perfect. It’s about staying in bed when I wake long enough to remember to say the Modeh Ani before I get out of bed. It’s about taking the time to remember to say the brachot over my morning coffee. It’s about remembering to slow down and take time so that those become things I remember before I need to do them, not after. It’s about taking an entire 24-hour period every week to NOT rush, to NOT hurry, and to let that peacefulness carry over into the rest of the week. It’s the complete opposite of what I was raised with – reflection, rather than rushing.

The rushing seemed to me to be required. If you aren’t running around “looking busy,” you’re lazy, aren’t you? But then I wonder how many people would call a Buddhist monk “lazy” for his meditation practices. I know a few Westerners who probably would, but that’s not the point here. The Type-A personality should not be setting the standard for what reasonable effort looks like – they’re at one end of a very long spectrum. It is possible to be unrushed and not be automatically lazy. It is possible to take time to think and contemplate and not be lazy. 

And it is all right to take a day where rest, contemplation, consideration and thought take precedence over running around trying to do everything all at once. It is all right to live by the spirit of the rules as much as, if not more than, their letter. A blogger I follow on Facebook calls this “living hands-free” – to stop worrying so much about what everyone will think and start focusing on the moment, the process, rather than the goal. 

This is still very hard for me to grasp. We live in a culture that values speed and efficiency and the goal over reflection and deliberation and the process. But living a hands-free kind of life – which for me, more and more, means a Jewish life – demands adherence to the spirit of the rules over the letter of the rules, more often than not. It’s also about bringing that sense of reflection and consideration into the rest of the week, not just leaving it on Shabbat. I had had an entire week of no reflection or consideration, of feeling rushed, of trying to do too much at once, and I paid for it on Friday evening when things finally fell apart because I couldn’t keep all those balls in the air and the plates all spinning at the same time. 

This week, I will forgive myself for dropping the ball. This week, I will not punish myself for taking time to reflect and consider. This week, I will work on reducing my need to live up to every rule and stress myself out by rushing through every process. This week I will make room for contemplation. 

And next week will take care of itself. It always does – have you ever noticed that? 

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Friday Feature: What Are You Thankful For This Week?

It’s time for the Friday Feature again, where I ask you what good things happened to you this week. This is direct from Telushkin’s Book of Jewish Values, Day 69.

This is a regular Friday morning feature for this blog. Telushkin intended his book to provide topics for Shabbat discussions for at least a year, as each “week” is composed of six values (one per day) and then Shabbat, where he encourages us to talk about those values at our Shabbat dinners and services. I feel that the idea of gratitude is so central to Jewish practice that we should be reminded weekly of what we might be grateful for.

While I know that this might seem a little self-centered, I’m also doing this so that people will have some food for thought for their own Shabbat dinners about what they might be thankful for. I generally talk about the following areas of my life: work and career; family and friends; health; household; my conversion studies; miscellaneous life; and the wider world. Feel free to add or subtract as necessary for your own use.


I have a lot to be thankful for going into this coming week, and finishing this past week. For starters, as long as enrollment holds up and funding holds up, I’ll have classes in the fall. I’m also almost done with my preps for those classes, except for their exams, which I’ll be tweaking and polishing over the next week or so. Today I plan to work on editing the final groups of Powerpoints so I’m all set to go on Monday. 

There are a number of possible jobs that I can apply to for full-time work starting next fall, and that’s the other major thing on my plate work-wise. There’s one in Los Angeles that is especially tempting so I’m going to work on that next week. 

I presented a paper with my co-author at a conference a week ago today, and it was very well received. My partner and I then spent the weekend with friends in the Bay Area. We stayed at a friend’s house; she’s also a convert and we had a very meaningful Shabbat dinner with her. Afterwards, she gave me my very first Havdalah candle, and I was very touched that she would think of me that way. Overall, the weekend last weekend was a very good (and Jewish!) one, spent with people I care about. (Completely coincidentally, my co-author is also a Jew, although a secular one.)

My kids are healthy and happy, my partner is healthy and happy, and most of my friends are in a good place right now, which is good. 

My health is reasonably good at this point. I’m trying to pay more attention to what I put in my mouth (I tend to be a stress eater) and that’s helped me have fewer pains and problems. 

Getting to talk with the new rabbi was a really big deal for me. I’ve arranged for the services I want to attend for High Holy Days, so that’s also in the works, and that makes me really excited. Now that the stress of the preps is winding down, I’ll have more time to crack the Hebrew studies again. The rest of my study is pretty much “on hold” until formal classes start in the spring. My partner has also expressed some cautious interest in going to the classes and, perhaps, converting with me. (This makes me tremendously excited.) Right now, my conversion is largely focused on practice, as it should be.

In terms of miscellaneous life stuff and the wider world, I’m trying to focus always on the positive, while still being realistic about it. I had a bad bout with depression last week but it got better once I was able to throw myself back into prepping and working. Also, Robin Williams’ death, while a horrifying thing in itself, has raised public awareness of depression, bipolar disorder, and Parkinson’s disease in ways that I don’t think he would have expected it to. (And for his death: baruch dayan emet, and may his memory be a blessing.) I also admit that I’m meanly pleased that his ashes were scattered in San Francisco Bay the day after his death, and that the Westboro Baptist “Church” won’t have a chance to protest his funeral because it was done before they even began to plan to disrupt it. 

The situations in Gaza and Ferguson are upsetting, of course, but even there I can find things to be thankful for. I am thankful for all the community members in Ferguson who stood guard over stores to either stop looting that had begun or prevent it from happening in the first place. I am thankful for the cease-fire lasting as long as it did in Gaza, and hopeful that we will soon see a longer truce. And I pray, every day, for the victims in both of those places and hope for a speedy resolution to the tensions. 

And as long as I’m mentioning Ferguson, here’s some specifically Jewish food for thought. Why Jews Should Care About Ferguson

Shabbat Shalom, everyone. I’ll try to update again on Sunday. 

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Filed under Conversion Process, Day-to-Day, Israel