Dough rising in a large covered bowl.
Uncategorized March 10, 2014

Book Review: Let My RV Go! How BTs Handle Fitting in… Or Not

One of the cool parts of being a rich and famous blogger personality mostly unknown Orthodox girl who started a blog is that people contact me to promote their stuff on my blog.  Some of it is absolutely not a fit for this blog (can you say Bible Revisionism? are people actually READING the blog before they send me stuff?) but some is just completely fun.  Like when I get sent free books to read and review.  Especially when they’re relevant, fresh, funny…and totally in synch with the blog.

Example: Let My RV Go, a new novel by Nicole Nathan.

The premise of the novel is two BT families, who, while trying to escape the cold Canadian weather as well as the pressures of organized Orthodox society, take two RVs down south to handle Passover their own way.  Alo
ng their journey they examine different attitudes toward fitting in, standing out, dealing with what they actually believe, and rejection of their secular pasts.  Rereading that, it sounds really heavy, but actually,
the light and funny tone makes the messages so much more palatable.

But what really stands out in this cute and interesting book is the honesty.  Most books written for Orthodox audiences, which this is, judging by the publishing house chosen and language and references used, excise all mentions of pop culture and women in bikinis and being okay with not fitting in and wistful reminiscences of previous secular pasts – for good reason.  If religious kids are going to read these things, we want them to encounter good examples and not be given ambivalent messages about religious life.  But here it totally works, and it’s brave.  And I like it.

At one point in the book, Pauline, the narrator, who just can’t seem to “fit in,” and is always trying to contain her curly red hair under some sort of head covering, sits in the laundry room of an RV park with her counterpart and foil, Julie.  She observes:

Looking over at Julie, I wonder if she and I will ever be close friends.  Julie is devoutly mouthing words written by King David some 2,800 years ago and I just can’t take it.  How can she be so devout and focused all the time?  How did she switch over to being religious so easily, so completely, without ever looking back?  She never talks about her past, but I’ve heard stories from Mike.  He once told us she used to be a dancer who leaped and twirled across North America and Europe performing raw emotion… and now, the only form of expression I can see are her lips mouthing the powerful, timeless words of King David. 

I wonder if she misses her dancing days, her travels, her freedom.  All these years, I’ve been afraid to ask because she may realize that I’m sinecure about my own beliefs….

This is a journey Pauline takes during the book, and at the end, says, “I’m pleased with myself for being so upfront about our incongruence.  I’ve always been aware that I don’t fit into the traditional frum box, yet now I’m actually being open about it and I don’t feel embarrassed.”

The Berkowitzes and the Shapiros, the two families on this little RV getaway, represent the two ways BTs handle organized, contemporary frum culture.  Way one: fit in at all costs, wear the garb, do as the frummies do, and you’ll be okay.  Way two: be yourself, be the best Jew you know how to be, fit in enough that you’re kids aren’t dying, but don’t check your personality at the door.  What’s cool about this book is that it doesn’t make the mistake of having these two families be stereotypes.  They are real people.  They and spouses are not always in the same place.  They are miffed by the “religious” folks questioning their kosher status, but the book doesn’t make those religious folks bad guys.  Julie, the “fit in” girl, hasn’t changed her name to Chaya Gitty.  See?

Here’s why the author wrote the book, from her website:

…I am ba’alat teshuva, becoming observant some fifteen years ago. Turning my life inside out and my kitchen upside down was not easy. It was deeply satisfying and meaningful, but it was often hard work. As I entered the religious world, I became aware that Observant Jews are cautious of the secular world, while secular Jews often misunderstand the Orthodox. We all bring our own perceptions and misconceptions. This results in the creation of two thickly lined boxes containing us and them. Becoming religious, I also became aware of the enormous rift between the two worlds. What does a ba’al teshuvah do? Should he simply break out of his box by forgetting his past and then try to mold himself the new box? Or, should he carve his own space outside of the box? …In the novel, I wanted to explore this rift in a way that readers on both sides could see each other in an honest and light-hearted way. And hopefully, they would be able to understand each other better.

My only critique is they have four little kids who seem remarkably easy to handle… it almost made me wanna RV myself one day.

If you are a BT, what has been your struggle with fitting in/maintaining yourself?
And if you’re a prospective one, has the prospect seemed daunting?

Environmental issues text with gradient background.
Controversial Observations, Uncategorized March 2, 2014

Convert Stories

When I used to teach tenth grade girls in our local Jewish day school, a not-uncommon question asked was, “Of course I know there is a God, but how do I know Judaism is the right religion?  Just because I was born Jewish?  So what?”

I have never, ever heard a non-Orthodox Jew ask this question.

A more common question in the non-Orthodox world is, “How do we really know there is a God in the world, who created this world and cares what we do?”  Implicit in this question, and I’ve heard it expressed explicitly too, is “of course if I were to be religious it would be Judaism.” Non-Orthodox Jews typically do not wish for the religious observances of other religions.  They KNOW they’re Jewish, they just don’t know where God fits in.

Orthodox Jews typically KNOW where God fits in.  They’re just wondering: why Jewish?

Enter convert stories.

When speakers travel the circuit and tell their “personal journey stories” (why I became religious, why I converted to Judaism) I’ve noticed a similar dynamic.  Convert stories are like gospel (oops) to Orthodox Jews.  It basically confirms and supports what they wondered: why be Jewish?  Because here is a person who was choosing a religion, and chose… Judaism.  Without being born to it.  Orthodox Jews LOVE convert stories.  They are inspired and motivated in their born faith by hearing the struggles and journey of a person who chose religious Judaism of their own volition.

Non-Orthodox Jews, less so.  They want to know things like: okay, I see why you left the religion of your youth, but why Judaism, specifically?  Without trying to be rude, they want to know: was it circumstantial?  If another religion would have found you at the crucial moment, would the conversion have been to that religion?  If another religion comes along that resonates more, would you consider it?

Another disconnect:

A lot of converts are converting from one fundamental religious lifestyle to another.  This unnerves non-Orthodox Jews.  They can’t relate to the fundamentalism in the first place, so there’s barely any point of connection in the story.  For a non-Orthodox Jew to become religious, a huge obstacle of faith-in-the-first place must be surmounted, and this particular type of convert doesn’t address it.  Faith is in their bloodstream from their earliest memories.  In fact, when I read blogs or books by religious members of other faiths, I feel a strong kinship and support.

It took a lot of thinking for me to figure out why convert-stories that left me feeling so inspired and moved, left my fellow non-Orthodox friends feeling somewhat flat and underwhelmed.  So that’s my theory.

Your thoughts?

White Bosch kitchen mixer on counter.
Uncategorized February 28, 2014

Blink

(spoiler: sobering post ahead)
Two weeks ago, I posted the following request on Facebook: 
“Friends, I don’t usually ask for this but perhaps you could, right now, spare a moment to offer up a prayer in whatever language you know for two women who are on my mind. 
Naomi bas Rosalia, a woman who fell here today at our conference and is in serious condition in the hospital. Ahuva bas Sara, a young mom in our community with breast cancer who’s having scans tomorrow at 9 am. I truly appreciate the gesture of care and solidarity. May we share only good news.”
It’s two weeks later, and here’s the update on Nelly, the woman who fell, that I received last night via email:
“She has been in the Rehab Hospital now for 10 days and she’ll probably be there another 10 days.  She has 3 hours of therapy a day – walking, going up and down stairs, etc.  She is doing very well, but it will be a long recovery to get back to normal.  She did have a significant brain injury, but thank G-d, she has no cognitive issues.  In fact, she did the math and logic tests at the hospital so fast that the staff commented they couldn’t think as fast as Nelly could.  Nelly works with the financial computer systems for the National Endowment for the Arts, so she is definitely gifted in math.  Her stitches and staples in her head came out yesterday, so she is looking forward to washing her hair!”
The second woman, Ahuva, passed away last Friday.
None of us thought Nelly would make it.
None of us thought Ahuva would die.
On Rosh Hashanah, we recited the following:
“For Your Name signifies Your praise: hard to anger and easy to appease, for You do not wish the death of one deserving death, but that he repent from his way and live. Until the day of his death You await him; if he repents You will accept him immediately. It is true that You are their Creator and You know their inclination, for they are flesh and blood. A man’s origin is from dust and his destiny is back to dust, at risk of his life he earns his bread; he is likened to a broken shard, withering grass, a fading flower, a passing shade, a dissipating cloud, a blowing wind, flying dust, and a fleeting dream.”
Life and death are in His hands – in the space of one second, everything can change.  A person of faith really, truly, literally believes this with every fiber of his being.  
Remember “Our Town”?  Remember when Emily decides to return to Earth to re-live just one day, her 12th birthday? She finally finds it too painful, and realizes just how much life should be valued, “every, every minute.” Poignantly, she asks the Stage Manager whether anyone realizes life while they live it, and is told, “No. The saints and poets, maybe – they do some.” She then returns to her grave, watching as George sadly kneels at her graveside. The Stage Manager comments on the probable lack of life beyond Earth, and the play ends.
When Nelly fell, I thought, “There, but for the grace of God go I.”  That I am safe any moment of any day is a miracle worthy of gratitude at all times.  And when Ahuva died, I thought, “There, but for the grace of God go I.”  Do I realize how much life should be valued “every, every minute?”  Do you?
If you had one day left, what would you do with it?  Because, you know, not everyone gets the proverbial 120 years to fix those mistakes and get it right.  Today, this minute, tell someone you love that you love them.  Decide to finally do that one mitzvah you’ve been planning on.  Say a sentence of gratitude to God – for life, that most precious, most underappreciated gift.  Blink, and you miss it.  
Sparkling 15 with healing and dealing text.
Interviews, Uncategorized February 17, 2014

Interview with Chaim Shalom, OOTOB’s first male Orthodox Jew

I’ve noticed that this blog seems to be somewhat woman-centric, which is interesting, because other than the fact that I, the author, am female, nothing here is specifically feminine.  So I put out there on Facebook that I am looking for a male Orthodox Jew to interview, and a friend-of-a-friend volunteered Chaim Shalom ben Avraham – who is a very interesting person besides being male and Orthodox.  Tell me what you think.
Continue Reading
Dough rising in a covered metal bowl.
Uncategorized February 13, 2014

The Day We Prayed

It was toward evening in Rockville, Maryland as the second day of the conference progressed.  Dinner was winding down and we anticipated a session from a woman who had sailed the Pacific for 2 years with her husband and two kids after he got laid off, followed by a “best practices” presentation by various city representatives.  The evening would close with a soulful musical session of Jewish spiritual tunes.

There was a collective gasp that arose from the front of the room.  I casually looked up, expecting the usual relieved laugh and “everyone’s okay” from the crowd.

It did not come.

Instead were swift shouts of “call 911!” “Is there a doctor??” “Is she OK?”

She was not OK.

A woman had leaned on a railing that overlooked a stairwell.  The railing broke away from the floor and supporting wall, sending the woman down, down, down… panic, distress, and grief filled the air of that room.

Here’s what I know.  I cannot help from a medical standpoint.  And people in crisis will not improve with rubberneckers.  So I did what I know how to do in a crisis: I prayed.  I fished through my handbag for my prayerbook, flipped quickly to the back where the Book of Psalms is printed, and started saying whatever my eyes fell on.  I don’t know what happened next, but someone gave me a microphone, directed the women away from the scene of the tragedy, and before I knew it, I was leading the group in saying Psalms, word by painstaking Hebrew word, phrase by painstaking phrase.

This group.  Many had never prayed before.  Many had no idea what we were saying, or why.  I never lead groups in prayer without introducing, explaining, translating.  But there we were, as the emergency crew arrived, as she was carried out, mercifully conscious, to the waiting ambulance, as people were instructed to move cars, to move away, we kept going, phrase by phrase, empowered by what we could do.  Empowered by the strength in numbers.  Empowered by our bond, our solidarity, from that moment of panic to that moment of doing.  Empowered by doing just that, saying those words that were not understood but whose cadence reminded us of our common bond: Hebrew, though we may not understand it; spirituality, though our definitions of its expression may vary; care and concern for our fellow sister, though many of us had never even met her.

That moment was magical, transformational.  Beauty in the midst of tragedy.

I know I shall never forget it.

Please spare a prayer, in whatever language you know, for Naomi bat Rosalia.

Empty stainless steel bowl on countertop.
Uncategorized January 28, 2014

Parent Yourself

There’s so much talk about parenting these days.  Don’t be a helicopter mom.  Don’t bubble-wrap your kids.  Don’t hire people to write their college term papers.  (Yes.)  Teach them to stand up to bullying.  Teach them not to bully.  To clean up their language. To handle technology.  And in one Dove-sponsored video, teach them to take a selfie.  (Yes.)

This is all, possibly, good.

What no one is saying is this: parent yourself.

Teach yourself not to be bubble-wrapped.  Teach yourself to stand up to bullies.  To manage technology.  To write your own work.  To clean up your language.

Whenever I teach a group of adults about a particular concept in Judaism, a value, a higher, more ethical way of living, the FIRST thing people usually think about is their kids.  “How can I teach this to my kids?”  But that’s not really the first thing.  The first question should be, “How can I teach this to myself?”

The Jewish world-view I was raised with teaches that you’re never done growing up.  That ethical development and responsible decision-making is never complete.  You don’t get a free pass to drink, swear, and gamble indiscriminately because “you’re a grown-up.”  Being a grown-up means MORE responsible behavior, not less.

And no, not only because this is the most effective way to parent (it is), but because it is the most effective way to BE, whether you have kids or not; whether your kids are grown or small; whether you’re pleased with how they’ve turned out, or sadly, otherwise.

Take all the questions you would direct toward your child, like:

  • Did you clean up your room?
  • Are you careful with what you post online?  It’s there forever, you know.
  • Are you treating your siblings and parents with respect?
  • Are you cultivating self-control?
  • Are you eating healthfully?
  • Are your spending habits sustainable?
  • Are you succumbing to peer pressure?
  • Are you dressing to impress others?
  • Are you relying on others to build your self-esteem?
  • Are you reaching your potential?

Now ask these questions to yourself.  The answers may not come easily.

Parent, parent thyself.