The Mysterious Zohar

I have been attending a four part series at my synagogue called "A Taste of Great Jewish Books," led by my rabbi and designed to let us sample major Jewish texts aside from the five books of Moses. The first class on other parts of the Tanakh was interesting, but the next two classes on Talmud and midrash were absolutely incredible and engaging and totally stimulating. They kept my brain firing long after the class, and fueled me to continue studying them. This kept me excited for the final class on the Zohar, and even more so because I'm fascinated by the idea of Jewish mysticism and spirituality and couldn't wait to learn a bit more about it. It seemed like something I would connect really well with.

Well, it wasn't quite as I imagined. It was really, really tough. I felt stupid reading it, and that's not a comfortable feeling, though it's a feeling I can manage.

As much as I love reading and writing, I'm very into narratives. They can be imaginative and creative and fantastical, but they're still narratives. Less concrete and linear works have always been difficult for me, even as they intrigue me. In English classes, I always loved lectures and class discussions on poetry, for example, because I could take something that was a total mystery and begin to understand it. It was ripe with "light bulb" moments facilitated by someone comfortable and expert in the subject. But if I were to sit with it myself and just have someone ask me, "what symbolism do you see in this? what is this saying? what does it mean?" I may very likely have a blank look. This is very often true with visual arts as well. I need help breaking it down, and often just need it spelled out for me, at which point I am thrilled to "get" it. I don't do abstract so well. Or rather, I don't do abstract very well in the art world - I certainly seem to be very strong with it interpersonally, such as in my profession. I can handle and wrestle with and analyze and build on emotional and psychological complexities with ease, but with any art form, I am totally out of my element and need a strong tour guide.

I feel disappointed that I couldn't get into the Zohar tonight, but relieved by the fact that many people in the room seemed to be struggling. I'm comforting myself with the hope that this doesn't necessarily mean this is not something I can get into (because I really thought I would!), just that I need to spend some more time with it, and receive more help around it, to understand and grasp and find meaning in it.

One piece we read tonight referenced Torah as a teasing, seductive woman whose lover (you) keeps coming back to her window in the hopes that she will reveal just a little more of herself, which she does. Tonight might be the first time I have felt the opposite of that - I strolled by her window and disappointingly saw only a shadow, and left frustrated. But I am persistent and a committed lifelong lover and will still keep coming back.

Growing Life (in our garden)

My parents are visiting from South Carolina this week. We timed this trip for spring so that Dad could help us with the yard, and they drove so that they could bring tools and machines to help. They also used this opportunity to bring up things of mine that were stored there since I'm in a house now. The most special item to me is the antebellum cradle, circa 1837, which my grandmother brought home from her antique shop when my mother was born, and which all three of us slept in as well. It is now in my basement, awaiting its future placement upstairs in the yellow room.

Today was our first full day of yardwork, and we got SO much done. We weeded, took the poles down that were supporting our trees but had been up probably for years too long, put our new electric lawn mower together that was a gift from my parents, planted vegetable seedlings in starter pots, tilled my gardening area, and re-shaped and enlarged an area that has bushes so that we could plant our blueberry bush there too. The dirt felt so good and alive in my hands, and I realized how sorely I have been missing my connection to the earth. I grew up by a dirt road we would walk down and watch tadpoles in a puddle. I was both a camper and a camp counselor in the Blue Ridge mountains. I played in the woods in my own backyard, letting my Barbies swim in the creek. Becoming a city girl has left me heartsick in a way that only an experience like this can start to heal.

As I sifted the beautiful, soft Long Island soil between my fingers, marveling in the difference between that and the unrelenting red clay of my homeland, I saw worms come up, squirming frantically upon their exposure. I watched them wriggle and then carefully carried them - at least five in total - to the other gardening area that was ready, in an attempt to minimize the loss of life that would occur when my father used the tiller on this plot. My family was very patient as I carried out my rescue mission, and teased me affectionately when we later saw a robin looking to snack on one of the very worms I had saved from the tiller. But can't you see how much more peaceful and natural that is? That didn't happen because of me, and served a purpose in the world, which makes all the difference.

As Nicole and I finished planting the blueberry bush and stood back to view her, looking so small and fragile and vulnerable as a mere stick in that large plot of soil that we had just created out of patchy lawn, we smiled at each other and I said a soft "Shehecheyanu" that only we could hear.

What a feeling to help nurture life, and the very life that will sustain us if we can keep her alive long enough.

I can't wait to start on the vegetables.

My Heart is Full and Glowing! (how easy that is to make happen)

Let me preface this by pointing out that we were leaving an appointment in the city late yesterday evening and knew we would get to services late. Nicole said she would feel embarrassed walking in late, and what if we just enjoy an evening in Manhattan and go out to dinner? I told her that while I loved that she was having a romantic moment of spontaneity and I didn't want to reject her, I knew I wouldn't enjoy myself because I would be so disappointed about having missed services. I suggested we do that planfully on a Saturday evening sometime, now that the weather is nice, but that I really wanted to go to services tonight. She agreed, but as we sat in crawling traffic and watched the minutes tick by way too fast, she said again that maybe we should just go home. I told her that I'd rather walk in late than not go, that I needed it in a way I couldn't explain, and that she could just drop me off if she was too uncomfortable about going in. She did end up going in with me. The reason I'm starting with this is because all of what I write below would have been missed if I didn't insist on following that magnetic pull that drew me there.

The other day, when we were talking with our friend C about the strong, insistent pull to attend every single Shabbat service (a feeling she shares completely), she said that it's hard to miss any sermon because the wisdom in them is so universal that you always feel it is speaking to you.

Boy did I feel that last night.

Rabbi spoke about several different things, but the piece that riveted me the most was when she talked about engagement and connection. She said that we have to pay careful attention to our inner critic, because while some of what it tells us about our flaws are true, it will convince us that we are not worthy or that we are not good enough for Judaism or God. We may feel that because we are weak in this or that area, far from what we strive to be, or because we don't do a certain thing "enough" or "the right way," that we don't belong or shouldn't be participating. But that's not true. God doesn't expect perfection, and we are worthy to join in with our community no matter what. We are not just connected to God when we're happy and things are going well and we feel good about ourselves and our choices and behavior. We are connected to God all the time.

At the meditation workshop on Thursday evening, Rabbi had asked how I was doing, and I said, "Amazing! I'm still riding the high." Last night, she said in her sermon, "Life is full of milestones where we feel particularly close to God, such as a wedding or the birth of a new baby or a conversion. Cherish the spiritual highs and remember them in times when you may not feel so connected to God. Use that to get yourself through and to remember that you are connected and you belong here no matter what your current emotions or circumstances."

Though, as C said, the beauty and wisdom of a good sermon is that each person feels that the rabbi is speaking directly to them, my heart stopped when she said that. It truly felt like she was talking specifically to me. And it was a great reminder that I may not always feel this sheer joy and excitement. At some point, it may feel so normal and routine that I have to actively seek out ways to keep that spark. While I'm using somewhat of a lifelong committed relationship metaphor, I'll take it a step further and say that if you love it and remain connected and involved and seek out opportunities to reinvigorate yourself as you desire, then this isn't so hard as it may be if you are less interested in doing so or take a more passive role. I know that my relationship with Judaism will evolve, and I have to be realistic that, if not lows, there will at least be plateaus, and I have to be able to feel that without being threatened by it, and then remember the joy and intensity of this early love and build on that to reconnect.

After services, C got stopped by a few people who wanted to compliment her on her solo last week. We went up to the oneg without her, and then about ten minutes later, I told Nicole I wanted to go back down to the sanctuary and rescue C. As I bounded quickly down the steps and into the hallway, who was heading in my direction but Rabbi! The same rabbi that I am always too shy to pull aside and talk to in group settings (which is all the time) when everyone is competing for her attention. The same rabbi that I sent my mikvah journal entry to because I so wanted to process it all with her and had to acknowledge sadly that there wouldn't really be an opportunity since we have had no chance to talk privately since then. She is never alone, and we certainly never just happen upon one another alone.

I said hello and then, lamely, "I'm going to go find C." Rabbi didn't allow me to nervously skitter away, instead stopping me to tell me she had just read my (long, emotional) thank-you letter. She said that I write beautifully and that my writing had moved her to tears three times just that week. She thanked me for sharing that with her, and then hugged me. Rabbi thanked ME. What??? And for writing, when she writes the most brilliant and beautiful articles in our newsletter that is like another sermon? I'm just a humble, adoring fan. A mere student. A learner, a consumer. I was floored that SHE was thanking ME. I still am. When I told Nicole later that I struggled to grasp that, she said immediately, "It's like you with your teens at work. You may be the professional and the one in the helping position, but you always feel privileged when they let you in and you feel fulfilled and rewarded by so much of your interactions with them, especially where you feel you have had an impact. You feel like you learn just as much from them." She can be so wise sometimes.

I told Rabbi that I'd wanted to talk to her about everything that was going on in my head and my heart during the mikvah, but that even if I'd had the opportunity, I tend not to be as articulate verbally. My inhibitions get in the way and I tend to stumble it out, missing some details and awkwardly repeating others.

She hugged me and thanked me for giving of myself to her, for opening up and letting her share in my experiences. I'm so moved that it touched her so much, and so grateful for the perfect series of events which led me to run into her there alone in the hallway. It was just the quiet moment I needed with her after the intensity of last Friday, all of which was shared with so many other people. It gave me such happiness, and that last piece of closure I didn't even know I was craving.

Then Nicole came out to find me and joined us. I told Rabbi how something had changed in Nicole when I converted, as she has since begun attending Torah study and classes, and that I'm so enjoying being able to share that with her and talk about it afterward. I said we almost hadn't made it tonight, and that I was freaking out because there was no way I could go another seven days before going to a service. She said, "I love it," and her smile lit up her whole face.

We almost didn't get to hear this sermon which spoke more powerfully to me than possibly any others, and I almost didn't get to have that one private moment with the rabbi to thank her and hug her and feel a little emotional with her.

If I had said, "Yes, let's just go have dinner and miss services." If I had said, "Yes, it's getting later than we anticipated because of heavy traffic, let's just go straight home." If I hadn't followed that invisible, stubborn wire that was tugging me toward temple no matter what the obstacles. If C hadn't been detained by adoring fans after the service. If I wasn't close enough with C to want to go rescue her. If I hadn't left, without Nicole, just to go check on her right at the moment that Rabbi was coming up. If Rabbi hadn't been down there for whatever reason. If Rabbi had had even one other person with her as is almost always the case because she is everyone's rock star and they all want to talk to her after anything she leads. If Rabbi had let me get away with, "I'm going to go get C" and had just smiled a greeting as I bounded down the stairs.

I may sound a little dramatic, but I can't overemphasize the importance and specialness of that moment. If it sounds dramatic, then that just means I'm not able sufficiently to explain why it was all so special to me. I replayed it in my mind giddily all night. And it was so close, a thousand times, to never having happened.

My Shabbat Obsession

I was going to title this “My Love Affair with Shabbat,” but the word "affair" implies temporariness, a fleeting fit of passion, or at least one that cannot be maintained with any level of intensity throughout a lifetime. On the contrary, Shabbat is one of the things that cemented my love of Judaism, and my appreciation for it and enjoyment of it only grows with time.

I heard it said once that Shabbat is like having a holiday every week. Actually, I think I read that in one of my books for class in a chapter about the loss of holidays from other faiths when you convert. The piece was talking about how “it’s only hard to be a Jew if you don’t like being a Jew,” and spoke about focusing more on all the holidays you and your children will gain with Judaism as opposed to the few you lose. I think that is where it referenced and celebrated Shabbat as “a holiday at the end of every week.”

What a fitting description, as I look forward to Shabbat all week, more than I ever did with an ordinary weekend. I feel excitement as the sun starts to set on Friday evening, and I’m quite distressed if I can’t go to services to celebrate it with people who are equally joyous.

It’s funny to remember back to when we first started attending services and how we would try to get out of it sometimes. We were just sooo tired at the end of the week and didn’t feel like driving out to something that didn’t start until 8:00PM when we just wanted to be in our pajamas with a movie and a snack. One of us would bring it up pretty passively and then feel great relief when the other said, “Well, let’s not go this week. Let’s just read from one of our books and we’ll go next week.” We never missed more than one week at a time, but we certainly enjoyed those “breaks” and it felt like a treat. Now it feels like we are missing out, like we are being forced to stay home from the party, and no amount of recognition within our home feels quite the same. We will re-arrange or reschedule or say no to the craziest things in order to make sure we can go, and it’s not out of a sense of obligation, which is very unfamiliar to me! 

I used to live for the sermon, and most of the rest were details that took away from that, or at least were just too long in comparison. Now that they are so familiar and I have more context for them, I live for every single one of those very details. The Sh'ma has become my favorite piece, the piece I wait all week for, as "Shalom Rav" has become for Nicole.

Friday evenings are joyous, and then I love waking up on Saturday morning. That might be the single happiest moment of my average week. I feel the majority of Shabbat still ahead of me and get to engage in fascinating, thought-provoking conversation at Torah Study. I’m there by 9:00AM, regardless of when we finally got home from the oneg the night before. I leave feeling invigorated and looking forward to the rest of my day, which I do my best to make restful.

Last week was my first Shabbat as a Jew, and I thoroughly enjoyed it. I woke up Saturday practically wanting to sing, and cheerily bounded off to my first Torah Study as a Jew. If I still had any question about whether I “feel different” since my actual conversion, this answered it – I have only once before spoken up in Torah Study, around a comparison to Catholicism which was a familiar and comfortable subject, but last Saturday I spoke up several times and really engaged in the conversation. Something clicked for me to make me feel like I have a right to belong and participate in a way that I didn’t feel before my conversion. I feel more confident and relaxed now, and less like I’m being tested or have to feel like a self-conscious visitor. The same was true for Part 3 of our four-part “Taste of Great Jewish Books” course – this past Tuesday’s class is the first one where I really spoke up and participated in the broader discussion instead of just absorbing in awe.

Similarly, I think my appreciation for Shabbat has grown even more since I became fully Jewish. It has always been joyous, but now it is ecstacy. Having a "Shabbat date" (yes, we're nerds) of reading over coffee at Starbucks that afternoon was pure contentment. Cherishing Shabbat and celebrating it and keeping it holy makes me feel so close to my God and my people. You’d think something that is a commandment would feel restrictive, but on the contrary, it is utterly liberating!

My Conversion, Part III: The Public Welcoming

After the service, Rabbi told us to take our time celebrating in the sanctuary while she went up to do the blessing for the congregational dinner. I used this time to open gifts with everyone there. I was so blown away by everyone's generosity - I received such beautiful Judaica, all of which will be remembered forever for this most special moment in my life. We got mezuzot from A&A and from Nicole's boss, a "Woman of Valor" tzedakah box from Nicole's non-Jewish colleague who sent it along with her boss, a "Woman of Valor" framed poem from Nicole's family, a challah cover and kiddush cup from Jen and Heather, and a tree of life kiddush cup from Allyson.

I finally interrupted the schmoozing and asked if we could go upstairs to eat, as it was now 6:45 and the dinner was to have started at 6:15. The Sisterhood had sweetly reserved us the center table, so we didn't have to worry about being separated when we came in late. The dinner was okay, and I felt good about having my group support the Sisterhood by attending. It was also just a nice, relaxed segue into the 8:00 Shabbat service. This was my first Shabbat as a Jew, and I just so enjoyed spending time with everyone, chatting and laughing and sharing details of the day (there were many curious questions about the mikvah!).

Rabbi had warned me that my welcoming would be a very small part of the service because it was a special Sisterhood service and they had a very full program. This was more than fine with me because I had agreed to the option of having a private ceremony long ago so that I wouldn't have to spend too much time in the spotlight and could be more comfortable and enjoy the moment. The smaller, the better! But it was still beautifully more than I had expected.

First of all, I was in the program: "Temple Tikvah celebrates the conversion of Rachel ____." This was such an honor and made me feel all warm and fuzzy inside. We had been given a packet when we walked in, as the Sisterhood had prepared an entire service in one packet instead of having us flip back and forth through the books with supplementary materials. It was nice and in order for us to follow it. And after a few pages, I noticed at the bottom of the next page a responsorial piece for my conversion. I became nervous but also touched and excited.

I was called to the bimah, and Rabbi said some nice words about having had the honor to serve on my beit din and be at the mikvah. Then she gave me the microphone so I could say a few words to this beautiful, warm community. I said:

"I want to thank you all for being so welcoming of me in the past year and a half since my wife and I first nervously stepped foot in Temple Tikvah. It has been an incredible community in which to be on this journey. You have all been so kind and supportive while I have been undergoing an incredible transformation in your midst that you were likely not even aware of. Rabbi R has been an amazing teacher and mentor, and I am proud to call Temple Tikvah home, now more than ever. I look forward to celebrating the milestones of life alongside all of you. In the words of the convert Ruth, 'Wherever you go, I shall go, and wherever you stay, I shall stay. Your people shall be my people, and your God shall be my God.' Thank you for welcoming me home."

Cue collective "Awwwww." Just that "Aww" filled my heart with joy - I'd had no idea my simple words would so touch these people.

Rabbi then took out my tallit, which we had given her to keep up on the bimah, and she showed it to the congregation. She said, "Earlier today, Rachel's beautiful wife, Nicole, gave her this gorgeous tallit. Nicole, come on up." She had us go down into the aisle so we were surrounded by our community, and Nicole held it up while the congregation gave the blessing, and then Nicole draped it over my shoulders. Then Rabbi invited the congregation to join in with the reading:

Rachel, we welcome you tonight as a Daughter of Israel, a full member of the Jewish community. We are blessed that you and Nicole have chosen Temple Tikvah as your spiritual home, and we offer you this ancient blessing in turn:

Y'varechecha Adonai va'yishmereicha
May God bless you and keep you,

Ya'eyr Adonai panav elecha vi'chuneka
May God's face of endless grace shine upon you

Yisah Adonai panav eylecha, vayesem lecha shalom
May God's countenance be ever turned toward you

May you find community and compassion,
Wisdom and wonder,
Answers and questions,
Privilege and responsibility,
Sweetness and joy abundant,
May your Jewish journey continue and bring you, all your people Israel, and all the world,
Wholeness, promise, and peace.

They couldn't have said anything more perfect, and it was so wonderful to see all those happy, proud, and emotional faces. Rabbi gave me another wonderful, long hug, and then I sat down and participated in my first Shabbat service as a Jew.

It was just a few minutes, and it was perfect. They made those minutes count. I felt so special and loved and welcomed without having to be completely awkwardly on the spot. I'm so, so glad I did everything exactly the way I did it, as far as what I did during the private ceremony versus the public.

At the end of the service, a Sisterhood co-president went up as the bimah officer to make announcements. She also happens to be the first person we ever met at Temple Tikvah when we were awkwardly and anxiously trying to figure out where to go our first Shabbat there, and she had helped direct us where to go. She related that story (embarrassing, but also made us relatable to the congregation!) and sweetly welcomed me, saying how lucky Temple Tikvah was to have me a part of the community, and then invited me up so she could give me a gift from the Sisterhood. It was Shabbat candlesticks in a beautiful velvet box. So perfect.

At the oneg (dessert reception held after services), soooo many people kept coming up to me to hug me and congratulate me, including a couple of people who themselves had converted or had a parent who had converted. I was so touched at how my conversion moved people, and so glad I found the courage to allow them to be part of it in some way.

The day was perfect. The beit din was anxiety-provoking, the mikvah was emotional and the most powerful experience of my life, my delicious Jewish lunch was relaxing and joyful, the private ceremony was intimate and meaningful, and the public ceremony was affirming and welcoming. It was just the best day from beginning to end. I'm so grateful for a rabbi who contributed to its specialness through the spiritual and connected way that she led everything. It has been such a treasure to build this relationship with her, to have her witness to and part of my transformation, and then to facilitate my conversion as someone who has gotten to know me quite well. I am so, so blessed to have been led to exactly where I need to be.

In the joyful afterglow, I feel content and at peace. I had a lovely first Shabbat as a Jew, full of rest and relaxation and love and contentment. I went to my first Torah study as a Jew, feeling more comfortable and like I had a right to be there and to participate. So yes, in case you wondered, it DOES feel different afterward, despite my day-to-day life looking pretty much exactly the same. I am indeed who I have always been, but a light switch went on inside me at some point. My excitement turned to contentment, my nervousness to comfort and peace. I am so, so happy.

My Conversion, Part II: The Private Ceremony

After the mikvah, Rabbi R and Cantor went back to work and Rabbi E, Nicole, Allyson, and I went to lunch. Rabbi R had recommended Woodro Deli, a popular kosher restaurant she grew up with. It was just a block or so from the mikvah, and it was the PERFECT place for my first meal as a Jewish woman!

I hadn’t eaten that morning, just as much from nerves as from my desire to keep my body as clean and pure as I could, and now, around 2:00, I was ravenous. I had a lunch special with a half a cup of matzoh ball soup, a brisket and gravy on rye half-sandwich, and coffee. Then Rabbi E ordered latkes and kashi and bowties for the table. I had never had kashi and bowties before. It’s such a simple dish, just some sort of barley grain and bowtie pasta, but I enjoyed it for its uniqueness and hominess. I immensely enjoyed everything, and it was a very appropriate meal, nourishing both my body and my soul.

We stayed there and chatted for a couple of hours before Rabbi E had to get back to her own synagogue and I had to work myself up to the next part of the day. Before leaving, I wanted to open the gifts from Nicole and my mom that Nicole had brought along. Nicole had wanted me to open hers the day before, but I refused to open it until I was “officially” a Jew. Now seemed like a good time, surrounded by love and joy. I wanted to share in that with Allyson and Rabbi E. Nicole had gotten me a beautiful tree of life tallit (prayer shawl). It is from Israel and came in a beautiful matching bag and with a matching kippah (which I’m not quite comfortable wearing yet). My mom had gotten me a tree of life mezuzah with a really sweet note of love, pride, and happiness for me. The tree of life theme ended up wandering throughout my evening, totally unplanned and so perfectly me.

It was about 4:30 when we got back to our house, and the private ceremony was starting at 5:30, so there wasn’t much downtime! It was a beautifully full and rich day. I used this time to call my mom and gab excitedly about the morning and what I anticipated for the evening.

We left the house earlier than we needed to because I was very antsy. Shortly after we got to temple, Nicole’s boss came in. Her boss is the only other Jew in their department and she has been soooo supportive of my conversion by allowing Nicole to leave early every week to get to our Intro class and just excitedly asking how it’s going. Nicole had initially invited her just to the 8:00 Shabbat service, where I would be publicly welcomed, and her boss said she would kill time in the area until then. I told Nicole to just invite her to the 5:30 private ceremony. Nicole was unsure, because her boss isn’t someone I know. I said, “First of all, I want people there who aren’t just supportive of ME, but get the momentousness of this occasion and are excited and want to celebrate that. Also, this isn’t just about me. You have been a huge part of this process, and will even be getting a Hebrew name. Let her be part of that!” And sure enough, her boss was so touched and thrilled to be able to come to the private ceremony.

Soon afterward, Nicole’s parents and sister got there, and then our friends C and D from temple. Everyone was bearing gifts that I requested to open afterward, as I was now starting to get a little nervous and wanted to be able to enjoy and appreciate them in the afterglow of it all. C insisted I open hers because it went along with my tallit. It was a beautiful tallit clip from Israel that helps keep the tallit in place. D and Allyson helped me put the tallit on, reciting the blessing and then showing me how. I felt slightly self-conscious about being in it and declined the kippah. One step at a time with that which remains unfamiliar!

Rabbi R came out and greeted us all, and I introduced her to everyone. I don’t think I realized how much I have raved about our rabbi until I watched my mother-in-law greet her. My mother-in-law has seemed a little underwhelmed when I go on and on excitedly about things related to my Judaism, and I don’t think I realized how much she gets it and how much she really absorbed of all that I have said. She told Rabbi that she has heard so much about her and how wonderful she has been and how welcomed we have felt and that she was so happy to finally meet her. And I could see it in her face – she gets how Nicole and I adore this woman!

Rabbi invited us into the sanctuary and put seats up on the bimah in a circle so that I could have people around me as supports in an intimate setting, rather than down below in the pews. The ceremony was so beautiful and I wish I could remember it word for word. Rabbi said some wonderful things that both impressed upon me the enormity of my decision to choose Judaism, and made it clear that I am now just as much a Jew as anyone else, with the same connection and the same responsibilities. She then let Nicole and I talk about the Hebrew names we had chosen before bestowing them upon us with a blessing.

Nicole’s Hebrew name is Elianna. She wanted a name that would honor her grandmother Elaine, whose home and presence were always a source of comfort, peace, and safety in a world that often felt unpredictable and chaotic to the young, anxious Nicole. Of the names that sound similar to Elaine, Nicole chose Elianna for its meaning, “My God has answered,” as she feels that she now is able to find this same feeling of comfort and peace within her newly developing faith.

My Hebrew name is Ziva Michal. Ziva means “bright, brilliant, radiant,” which is the same meaning as my maternal grandmother’s German name, Bertha. She was the grandparent I felt closest to, and she emanated a sense of spirituality, joy, and love of life that I share, which I feel is also reflected in the name. I chose Michal to honor a woman of the Bible who is largely painted in a negative light as bitter, and less acknowledged for having saved David’s life (what would our history be if he had been killed??) and for having raised her five nephews and being unable to bear her own children. Obviously fostering and alternative family structures are an issue close to my heart.

After receiving our Hebrew names, Rabbi gave me the opportunity to say a few words, which I’d prepared in advance. I said:

“If I invited you to be here today, it’s because you have been part of my Jewish journey in some way. You may think it was small, but you have no idea how you have impacted me and made me feel welcomed, supported, and excited – especially Rabbi R, who has become a total rock start to me with her seemingly endless wisdom, compassion, and support; Nicole, who has tolerated and ultimately embraced more changes in me than she ever would have anticipated; and Allyson, who has provided a constant shoulder and ear along the way. My journey is only just beginning, and I hope that each of you will remain a support to me as I feel my way through it.”

Originally, I was supposed to read my conversion statement also, but we were quite late getting started because two of my friends missed their first train, and we didn’t end up having time. I’m okay with that, and I think I will feel more comfortable offering for people to read it rather than having read it out loud to them all.

Then Rabbi said more wonderful things that I wish I could recall word for word about my taking on the yoke of the commandments and being a full Jew in every way. She spoke about how Jews are “the people of the book,” and that the Torah now belongs to me just as much as to any other Jew. She then had me hold the Torah, which I was pretty terrified of doing. I didn’t know how to hold it (it’s so big and pretty unwieldy, especially to someone who has never held it before) and I was so afraid of holding it awkwardly or even having it slip out of my arms. But Rabbi helped show me where to put each of my hands to make sure I had it securely, and then she had me recite the Sh’ma and the V’ahavta in English. (This is what is on the scroll inside mezuzot that are placed on the doorposts of Jewish homes.)

Rabbi then gave my friends and family a chance to offer any blessings or words to me.

C had been prepared, because she had said something so genuine and touching and beautiful to me while we were chatting in the parking lot after the workshop last week, that I had asked her if she could say that during my ceremony when Rabbi asks people to say something. She took that very seriously and wrote something out and even asked Rabbi to look at it first. I later learned that because she’d been able to prepare and had said something so profound and beautiful, the others felt anxious and on the spot about what to say. I guess I should have given them warning! On the other hand, though, they all said such touching things, and I'm glad they spoke from the heart.

I am going to have to summarize and I’m sure will miss some precious things she said, but essentially, C said that my soul has always been Jewish and has just been waiting to be released. She said that I have often asked her what the “right” way or the “Jewish” way to do something is, and that it’s funny to her because however I do it is the right way since I am a good person and everything comes from that, which is the essence of being a Jew. She said that I already embrace and live out Jewish values that have always been in me, such as my concern for the environment and for other people, my hospitality toward others, and how I question everything and then question the answers. She said that while this is a special day, it isn’t changing who I am and have always been. She said, “As much as you have been journeying to find your place here, to find your way to where you have always belonged, we have been waiting, so patiently, for you to get here. Welcome home.” That last bit moved me to tears and is something I will never forget. It might be the single most amazing thing anyone has ever said to me.

Nicole’s sister talked about how their father’s family is much more extensive than their mother’s, so most of their family functions and celebrations are Catholic, like baptisms and First Communions. She said that as soon as we told her I was converting, she was thrilled because she knew she would have Jewish milestone celebrations in the family now, which she was sorely missing.

Both Nicole's boss and a friend of ours spoke about how powerful it was as born Jews to see someone find such passion and meaning in Judaism and to choose to enter into the covenant of their own free will.

Nicole’s mother spoke about her regret later in life that she had not instilled more of a Jewish identity in her children, and that while she was able to get Nicole’s sister involved around age 12, Nicole, then 19, just wasn’t able or ready to embrace it. Her mother spoke about how she had seen that Nicole needed it and always hated that she had missed the opportunity. She said that she is so happy that I was able to bring her daughter to something that she herself hadn’t been able to.

Nicole went last, and fortunately she had written it down so I’m able to put it here word for word:

“Wow, where do I even begin? When I met you over four years ago, I was Jewish but did not really practice, and look where we are four years later. I can’t believe how quickly this day has come. I am so proud of you and what you have accomplished. You came to my house for Passover that first year, and you couldn’t believe that my children wouldn’t have this experience. I think this is where the conversations began, and a few months before our wedding, you brought this up again (after doing tons of research) and you really thought that this was the right place for you. You felt that this was a faith you could believe in and had been missing for many years. We knew this would be a big part of our life that we didn’t want to rush into before our wedding. Not only did you find something that fit you so well, but you brought me back to a faith I had never experienced. Although I may joke with you a lot, I love to watch and see your excitement as you delve into your new faith. I love to see our bookshelf grow, and most importantly I love when we read and talk about all the new exciting information together. Congratulations on your conversion. Thank you for bringing me back to a place that feels like home for me and will be home for our family.”

Rabbi then gave a blessing by translating what the cantor sang, and then adding her own words. Part of that included, "May your eyes always shine with love for Judaism as they are now." I guess I looked happy! :)

Then there were closing words and more celebratory song and lots of long, tight hugs that felt so sincere and so full of love and joy and acceptance. I’m so happy that I decided to have a private ceremony with all of this. I think it made it so much more emotional and meaningful to have only people I’m close to there, and it also gave an opportunity for a lot of words from the heart that people may otherwise have been less comfortable offering. It was such a warm, intimate experience, and probably the most powerful of my life - well, second after the mikvah, which was completely beyond compare.

My Conversion, Part I: The Mikvah

In exchange for having yesterday off for my conversion, I have to work tomorrow, so a lot is being crammed into today. Therefore, my goal is to write about my conversion in pieces because I'm just exhausted and am preparing for a six-day work week. It might also make it easier to take since this is likely to be a loooong story. I don't want to forget any of the incredible things people said to me. I wish I could have recorded it so I could hear it again and again for the rest of my life. But the best I can do is try to record what I can recall here so that I can read it again and again. And the more time I take to write it, the less I will be able to remember. So despite my goal, this mikvah post might be very quickly followed by the rest of it!

Let me start by saying that this was one of the most special days of my life, tied with my wedding day - and Nicole feels that way too! Similar sense of planning, anxiety, waiting impatiently, getting excited, and also looking forward to the lifetime of stability, commitment, and security that is to follow the single-day event.

I woke up Friday morning excited and very anxious. I didn't sleep enough and just had the jitters. The mikvah, which had seemed SO AWESOME when Rabbi first told me about it over a year ago, seemed terrifying now that it was actually in front of me. Rabbi had told me that there is flexibility in Reform and I wouldn't be required to have someone in the room with me as I immersed, that this mikvah allows Reforms to use it without any interference or requiring a mikvah attendant, and the beit din could just listen at the other side of the door to hear the splashes of each immersion and my blessings. She said, "To make it kosher, yes, someone should be in there, but it's not required." She was trying to make me comfortable and wanted to make sure I knew my options - but as soon as she said that, I knew I had to have her in there. (And much better to be her than a random attendant!) This, of course, opened up whole new levels of anxiety and self-consciousness, but I knew I had to overcome that. I didn't want there to ever be any question in my own mind about whether I had done it right.

So that morning I did all my mikvah prep. I took this very seriously and had actually started it over a week earlier. There are to be no barriers between you and the water, including contacts, nail polish, jewelry, dirt, deodorant, lotion, etc. My nail polish was red, and that color stains. It doesn't come off the first day. So a week prior, I had removed it so that it would have time to completely disappear, which it did. Then I had cut my fingernails and toenails a few days prior to the mikvah, so that in case I accidentally cut a little too short, they would be perfect in a couple days. There is something that feels holy about taking such care around little details, really taking the time and devotion to prepare yourself for something so special, and it really helped prepare my spirit for it as well.

The morning of, I took a long bath, shaved my legs (not as common an occurrence as one might assume), brushed my teeth, flossed, cleaned under my nails, scrubbed behind my ears and in my belly button. I wore sandals so that I wouldn't get any sock fuzz under my nails. I packed a mikvah bag for my return to the world with body cream, deodorant, and hair gel. I packed my backpack with my conversion statement, the remarks I would make at both the private and public ceremonies, my card and gift for Rabbi, and the gifts from Nicole and my mom to open afterward. Then I just anxiously waited for it to be time to go.

We picked up my friend Allyson from the train and headed over. We got there only about five minutes early, but no one was there. Nicole wanted us to go inside, but I felt really awkward about that since it was all so unfamiliar, and I wanted to wait for the beit din to arrive. I sat in the car silently freaking out. What if they asked me really tough questions that took me a lot of time to stumble through a response, trying to explain things that are hard to put into words? (They did.) What if I freaked out in the mikvah and forgot my blessings or even fainted? (I didn't.)

Rabbi E called then to say she hit a little traffic but was just a few minutes away. I told her not to worry, that it was just us there. She asked how I was, and I said, "Excited, but so, so nervous." And she said, "Good. It's good that you're nervous. But you'll be okay." Shortly afterward, Rabbi R and Cantor pulled up. It took all my nerve just to get out of the car to greet them. We were a few minutes late, so we went straight in while Rabbi E parked so that they would know we were there.

The mikvah was in a private house, with the family living in the back of the house. It's split-level, and you go upstairs to the living room area where we held the beit din, and then downstairs to the mikvah. There was a sectional sofa and then a small bench across the room, so I sat on the bench, assuming the beit din should be sitting together with me facing them. Allyson sat with the beit din, and Nicole sat next to me.

Rabbi started by saying a lot of nice things about the role of the beit din as the gatekeepers of the Jewish faith. Then she asked me to read my conversion statement, which was over four single-spaced pages and described my spiritual journey starting from childhood, as well as why specifically I was choosing Judaism. It was very personal, and I was shaky and nervous as I read it to everyone. I had to stop to sip my water several times. Then the questioning began, and it was as tough as I expected! Here are the questions I remember, and no, I'm not going to try to repeat all my responses.

What is your favorite Jewish holiday?
What has been your most powerful Jewish experience?
What is your relationship with God like?
How do you connect with the state of Israel, not just with the Jewish people?
How did you find Temple Tikvah and what kept you connected here?
How do you connect and identify with the Jewish people and community?
You mention in your statement that you embrace both the joys and the challenges of Judaism, and spoke a lot about the joys - what are the challenges?
This week's Torah portion is about commandments between a person and God versus commandments between people. How does that speak to you?
Is there anything you hoped we'd ask that we didn't? (No - you pretty much covered it!! *wipes sweat off brow*)

I don't remember exactly what Rabbi R said next, but she basically intimated that she felt comfortable approving my conversion and invited Rabbi E and Cantor to give their opinions. Rabbi E said that the gates were widen open for me, and Cantor said that the Jewish community will be enriched by my being a part of it. Cue tears (for the second or third time since we'd started).  Then Rabbi explained the significance of water in Judaism and connected that to the mikvah. She suggested that I take time to absorb that before I go in, and offered ways to think about my conversion with each immersion (which I forgot and couldn't think of once I was in there, but it was really nice to hear beforehand).

Then we descended to the mikvah! There are four full bathrooms that open up onto one mikvah pool, so you can prep and then go in from your door. Rabbi showed me the prep room and the mikvah room. It helped my anxiety a lot to be able to see it first and know what was going to happen. Rabbi walked me through exactly what would happen and showed me the door that would be ajar for the beit din to listen. (It ends up that Nicole and Allyson were also there but kept quiet - I'm both thrilled that they were there, and glad that I didn't know at the time!) It also helped to see the room while my glasses were still on! The room was absolutely beautiful. It was glass and tile in soothing colors (light blues and grays and whites, if I remember correctly) and the pool was just gorgeous. It was not set up as I had envisioned it, and I wish I'd been able to picture it more accurately, because it would have made me feel so much more comfortable! I had pictured Rabbi standing as if at a regular pool, which is part of why I felt so exposed. But  there was like a ledge or balcony at the top with a railing, and then steps that wound all the way around the wall into the water. So the person standing on the balcony is looking down, not across, to see you. So even if you stand up out of the water, they're seeing that view, of your head and shoulders. Even if they see anything else, it's just not the same as if they could see your full front or full back. I was immediately more at ease.

Rabbi showed me the door that would be ajar and then sent me back to the bathroom. She said she would wait outside until I was ready, and then would go get the beit din while I went into the mikvah room. Because I knew she was waiting outside and they were waiting upstairs, I felt weird about taking a full shower, which had been my plan. I did take a full bath that morning, but you are also supposed to take a shower right before, and I knew I had sweated a little. I sort of sponge bathed with just a wet washcloth so that I could be ready more quickly and not keep anyone waiting. This is my one regret. I had done everything else so carefully and thoughtfully, without anyone asking or demanding it of me or even being aware of what I was doing to prepare, and then I cut this last major corner out of concern for other people. I also hadn't been told to shower, I had just read this and been told this by my Orthodox colleague who goes to the mikvah monthly, so I felt self-conscious about that too - maybe Reforms don't really have to "bother" with that and I was taking it too seriously? I also felt bad messing up their nice bathroom for just a quick shower. I wanted to use as little of their stuff as possible. And yes, I regret it now. I think just that three-minute shower would have given me that extra time to really mentally and spiritually reflect and prepare myself as well.

I put on the robe and told Rabbi I was ready, and then went into the mikvah room to wait. I stood there nervously. I didn't feel the joy that I had been feeling all the way up until this day. I felt very solemn and a little uptight with nerves. Then I worried that that would "ruin" my experience and consciously tried to relax a little, to no avail. (Yes, I'm known to overthink things and try to control my experiences to be the way I think they should feel like.) The hard questioning was over, and immersing and saying my well-rehearsed blessings should now be the easy part! But I wasn't a Jew yet until I came out of that water, and it suddenly felt very intense and heavy.

Once Rabbi came in, as we had discussed, she turned around while I took off my robe and descended into the pool, in order to safeguard my modesty. The water went high up on my chest, almost to my shoulders, and was beautiful and warm. I said, "Okay," and then I heard Rabbi from up above. I couldn't see her and throughout the entire immersion, did not really register any self-consciousness or sense of her looking down. I just listened to her voice as she guided me through it, and it was soothing and reassuring. She told me when to dunk, and I did, making sure to spread my fingers and lift my arms and keep my feet off the ground. It was hard to tell if my head was completely under, but that's what Rabbi was there for!

When I came up the first time, I was shaky and had to take a few seconds to recover myself before going into my blessing. For once, I have no words for it. It didn't feel like anxiety or excitement or shock that this was happening or anything else that I could describe. I'm not aware of having had any specific thoughts or emotions. My body just acted it out, shaking a little and making me take a few breaths. I had to recite the blessing more slowly than I did in practice in order to regulate my breathing again, and even had to pause for a couple of seconds midway through to swallow. "Baruch atah Adonai, Eloheinu melech ha'olam, asher kid'shanu b'mitzvotav v'itzivanu al ha't'vilah." ("Blessed are You, the Eternal our God, Ruler of the universe, who has sanctified us with Your commandments and commanded us concerning the immersion.")

Rabbi instructed me to dunk again, and I had the same physical experience when I came back up. I took a few seconds to breathe and collect myself, and then, "Baruch atah Adonai, Eloheinu melech ha'olam, shehecheyanu v'kiyamanu v'higiyanu lazman hazeh." ("Blessed are You, the Eternal our God, Ruler of the universe, who has granted us life, sustained us, and enabled us to reach this occasion.") I then immersed for the third and final time, and Rabbi and the beit din said, "Mazel Tov!" and Rabbi told me to take my time getting ready, and then she left the room.

And there I was standing in this beautiful mikvah, in the comforting warm water, all by myself, a brand new Jew. Just like that. And I started shaking and tearing up and stumbled my way up the steps in a daze. I put my robe on and went back into the bathroom and shakily put my clothes back on. I paused several times just to let the emotions wash over me. I wanted to hug someone and cry and celebrate, but instead I had to just get dressed as if it were a normal moment. That gave me a minute to just pause and sit with God and realize the enormity of what had just happened. And I cried as I undertook the mundane daily preparations to go back out into the world, putting on deodorant and lotioning my arms and legs and styling my hair. I had been so surrounded by people up until now that I took this opportunity to express gratitude to God for having brought me here. Which yes, I had done with the Shehecheyanu just moments earlier, but I did it again and with my own words and with my feelings that couldn't be put into words. I felt embraced and welcomed before I ever even presented my Jewish self to a human being.

(As I'm typing this, it just hit me like a brick that that shaky feeling that had no clear thought or emotion associated with it was awe, which makes me feel that I must never have truly felt such a thing as that before. It was surreal and unfamiliar and overpowering. And going back to read my description of that feeling, before I had a word for it, is really moving me.)

Having Rabbi there to make sure it was kosher is almost an afterthought now; it was so meaningful to have her present with me, guiding me through and being an eye witness to the moment I emerged a Jew. That was definitely not something I ever anticipated taking from this experience. I did not expect it to be so special just to have her there in the room with me. It would not have been the same to have her on the other side of the door calling in to me, and I'm glad that I didn't unknowingly get in the way of myself, denying myself the power of that moment. While I was in the mikvah, it felt entirely private, and I was barely aware of her presence except for her guiding voice, but I feel very sure that I would have felt her absence.

After I came back out and went upstairs, the others were in the midst of conversation and signing my conversion certificate, so I just stood there a bit disoriented for a few moments before the hugs began. I didn't feel the sheer joy that I had expected - I felt just total shock, followed by relief and contentment. Rabbi R knew that I was disappointed that Rabbi E wouldn't be there for my private ceremony that night, so she let Rabbi E say some words of welcome to me. She and Rabbi R have a very similar sense of spirituality, so it was all very beautifully in sync. There were more hugs and joyful singing and then we headed back out into the day. I really began to feel the relief then, and no longer felt nervous about that evening's ceremonies. That would be nothing after what I just went through!

Bachelorette Party

Last night I celebrated my last night as a non-Jew with breakfast-for-dinner at our friend C's house. It wasn't planned around me or necessarily supposed to be about me in any way. We had just had dinner plans and then actually planned to study more of our Talmud handout while we were all together. But of course it did end up being the night before my conversion, and being both a very sentimental and a very joyful person, it quickly became my own secret celebration. I was very aware of my last sunset as a non-Jew, my last supper, etc. (This also enlightened me to the fact that I will probably be overjoyed at many "firsts" in this next year or so!)

What a perfect way to unofficially celebrate. We have connected so solidly to C, from the first time we actually had a conversation with her a couple months ago (we had seen her around temple for over a year but had never spoken), and she is just an amazing person. And she only lives six minutes from us!!! I can't overstate my happiness with that since I feel like I have no one in Long Island and have to struggle to maintain my old friendships.

She had a very sweet setup when we got there, with a sliced strawberry garnish on each plate and Syrian grilled cheese with small pita triangles on the table as an appetizer while she finished the French toast and the veggie-egg dish. The grilled cheese was Muenster cheese baked in a round glass dish, so that it was flat and melty with browned edges, and you scoop some into the pitas. AMAZING. She said the first time she had American grilled cheese, she was so confused, because even though she was living here, she'd always had it the way her dad made it.

We always end up having a good mix of fun and intellectual conversation with C. We had a total blast talking about all kinds of random stuff, then also talked about my conversion, her sentiments around it, and the discrimination she has experienced within sectors of the Jewish community for being a Jew of Arab descent.

We stayed way too late, and I got up way too early this morning with a bit of a nervous-sick stomach (wedding day flashback). I'm relaxing now and doing something familiar and soothing - writing! - before I start my mikvah preparations. It isn't helping, but it is what it is. Even my body feels the significance of this day!

Anticipation!

I'm in such a nervous state of giddiness that it has seriously been feeling like my wedding is approaching. My feelings at any given moment are: performance anxiety, nervousness of the unknown, happiness to have people close to me celebrating with me, fear that I'll forget what I'm supposed to say or otherwise be awkward, wonder at what it will feel like the next morning (will it truly not feel any different like so many say?), total joy that THIS IS REALLY HAPPENING!!!, denial that it will soon be over, and unbelievable excitement about the events of the day itself and about my future. Serious wedding deja vu. I am FLIPPING OUT inside on a nearly constant basis and can barely contain myself.

I've been so sad about my meetings with the rabbi ending, just as I was about class ending over a month ago. But just as with that, once I actually come to that point, there is so much excitement that I feel ready for and at peace with the transition.

Last night, we went to the second of four sessions on "Great Jewish Books," taught by our rabbi at our temple. This might be the first non-Shabbat experience that Nicole has accompanied me for, and she was pretty excited. I haven't minded going by myself to different things. I've actually been quite proud of myself for braving the drive (I had never driven in Long Island before this) and recently even socializing with others, pushing myself into a little independence so that my spiritual and intellectual needs are met without forcing Nicole out of her comfort zone to join me.

I invited our new friend C to join us, and then at the last minute, invited her over for dinner beforehand. She works a LOT, so she gets home late on most weeknights and isn't available on Saturdays. But this event wasn't until 7:30 so I asked her if she'd want to join, and she said yes, that she didn't even know it was going on but that it sounded interesting. So we sat with her and she added so much to the experience! To have a secure, intelligent Jewish woman involved in our discussions was awesome. That night's class was on the Talmud, and we had to have a discussion in groups. She added sooo much to the conversation, and I loved to see how Nicole was thinking about all this too. We have dinner plans tomorrow night, and decided yesterday to finish the packet together then.

As a group and with our rabbi's guidance, we hit on some majorly powerful stuff that just cemented my love affair with Judaism. The piece that blew all of us away was the conclusion from a piece of the Talmud that exemplifies free will - God disagreeing with God's children but letting the majority rule, even against God's opinion, because "the Torah is not in heaven" and it is up to God's people to interpret how to live by it, even if God disagrees. I left with my brain on fire, and even Nicole said, "I need more of this."

As much as I am proud of having felt comfortable enough in my own skin and in my still freshly developing Jewish identity to be able to participate in these events by myself, it added so much to my experience to go with people I love and feel totally comfortable with, especially my own wife. The three of us stood in the parking lot talking for another 20 minutes before agreeing to keep the conversation going on Thursday. I'm so happy that Nicole went, because it totally invigorated her, and, in an unexpected way, our marriage. I'm okay with having things that are just mine, or that I'm more interested in than she is. I cherish having my own identity. But it is an amazing feeling, and an important one, to be able to share in our spiritual life together like this.

I didn't think I could possibly be more excited about Friday, but yesterday sure did it. That class made me proud of Judaism, and proud of my synagogue. It made me thrilled to soon be able to call myself a part of that.

Every day that passes is like a freak-out countdown: "OHMYGOSH two days!!!" My palms sweat and my heart skips a beat every time it hits me in the middle of my workday or as I'm falling asleep. I only get to feel the excitement of this lead-up once, so I am enjoying every emotional, scary, and exciting day til then.

My Golden Calf

My backpack was stolen yesterday during a work outing. We were given permission to leave the office at 3:00 as our semiannual teambuilding activity, though our only plan was to have happy hour to say goodbye to a social worker whose last day it was. There was almost no one in the place, but when I went to leave at 5:20 PM, my backpack was no longer next to me.

In it was:

my work ID and keys
my planner with all my work and personal events, which are not recorded anywhere else
my iPod Nano that I just got from Nicole for Hanukkah a few months ago
my Kindle that I got from Nicole for Christmas several years ago
my book "She's Not the Man I Married: Life with my Transgender Husband"
my URJ magazine folded back to an article I wanted to discuss with my rabbi
my notebook where I have kept notes since my first day of Intro to Judaism class October 25
my latest unread People and Entertainment Weekly magazines
handouts from my Intro class - all of them
a photocopy of a handwritten letter from a 7-year-old client that I've just carried around because it reminds me of why I do the work I do

And maybe most sadly, a handwritten transliteration of the Shehecheyanu my rabbi wrote down for me last week for me to memorize for the mikvah - so treasured, because she's basically a rock star to me, that I jokingly told my friend Allyson that I wanted to make a conversion scrapbook just as a reason to keep it. And no, asking her to write it down again would not at all be the same.

I panicked and then I cried. I was so upset that someone could do something like that, and felt lost without my stuff. (Though I was very lucky to have moved my wallet and housekeys from my backpack to my coat pocket earlier that very day.) Losing the expensive items sucked.  I don't have the money to replace my iPod anytime soon, and I know I will never prioritize buying another Kindle. I've learned I much prefer actual books, though I love the Kindle for travel (great not to have to pack several books when I don't know how many I will get through) and have appreciated having it precisely because I knew I wouldn't have another one after it dies.

But those weren't even the most upsetting things. Without my planner, I am going to feel so lost on Monday; where am I supposed to be, and how much trouble will I be in if I'm not there?? Chaos! And my Jewish class items. Everything I have written and collected since class began, including from events at my own synagogue.

I was rushing twenty blocks uptown for a classmate's conversion ceremony, and Allyson took the cab with me. She kept saying falsely optimistic things like, "Maybe it will turn up later and they'll call you." Then outside the synagogue, she hugged me and said, "I don't know if this is insensitive to say, but you know, they ARE just things." I said, "Actually, that's the most reassuring thing you've said this whole time."

Was my life and my health and everything important to me in that backpack? Of course not. How silly to feel such panic over it, to feel so unmoored. I know that it's a natural feeling in response to such a violation and loss, and I'm not criticizing myself for feeling it, just bringing back some perspective.

My staff and colleagues and old emails will help me fill in the blanks with what I'm supposed to be doing at work over the next few weeks, and the world won't end if I miss a few. And my Jewish identity is not wrapped up in handouts and notes and special tokens - I'm pretty sure I'm going to be Jewish next Friday with or without them.

Idols, all of these things. I won't be quite so dramatic as to say I worshipped them, but I certainly placed more value on them than I should have, and maybe that's essentially the same thing. Losing them does not change who I am, and in fact, it's a pretty damn good reminder of what's really important. My skills and passion as a social worker are not contained within a planner of carefully maneuvered nonstop appointments. My sense of being (almost) a Jew is just as much in my head and my heart as it ever was; I don't need paper crutches to reassure myself, to feel like a prepared student trying to pass an exam. I'm still here and I'm still me. I don't NEED this stuff. Stuff is not life.

But I sure do miss my pretty purple iPod.

The New Address

There was a major incongruity in the name of my blog and its actual content since beginning my conversion to Judaism. This is partially because the conversion is happening right now and is intense and that has been consuming my mindspace far more than babymaking, and it is partially because we have had to put off those plans since getting into our house and trying to get our finances in order again so I'm dreaming and writing about it less.

My new blog address is www.twojewishmoms.blogspot.com. As you can see, the future motherhood piece is still a major part of it, because that is still my primary intention of the blog - to have somewhere to work through the major project that I know it will be and that I know others can share in. It is certainly not an experience that is unique to us.

I can no longer say "well, my blog is about Judaism now because that's what I'm focused on as I convert, but it will soon go back to being about starting a family." With my conversion just over a week away, I am realizing that this will always be infused into every aspect of my life, and that my blog going forward will most likely be about both, and likely intertwined rather than separate. My exploration of Judaism and its impact on my life and identity will not stop on April 19.

So here I am. Same theme, same posts, but a title that hopefully is a little less misleading.

Here It Comes!!!

It's really happening!

My rabbi confirmed an appointment with a mikvah for April 19 at 12:30, so everything else can fall around that. It has been such a process just to find a time that works for everyone on the beit din  (a court of three clergy), and then after that was the ordeal of finding a mikvah that allows Reforms to use it and has availability that day. It has taken weeks and weeks to schedule, and when Rabbi told me Friday at our appointment that it was confirmed, I wanted to jump out of my seat with excitement. My joy was infectious, and Rabbi was smiling and hugged me so tight. I am sure going to miss meeting with her, but am so grateful for this time to develop a personal relationship with her. I feel so fortunate to have had all of this one-on-one time with her. I know it's a privilege that not everyone gets.

Speaking of which, I am getting more and more attached to OUR rabbi and OUR synagogue. I'm not elevating this attachment above Judaism or God, as evidenced by my attendance at a different syngagogue's Holocaust commemoration ceremony this morning in addition to ours because I was drawn to their guest speaker. I'm able to enjoy events and community outside of my synagogue, even when I go alone and don't know anyone else there. But I have a home in Temple Tikvah, and that feeling has become intense very quickly without my even realizing it. I've been attending Torah study on Saturday mornings when I'm available and am LOVING it, which has me seeking out other events - what else have I been missing out on?? It's like I want to be there whenever I can, and around my people and my rabbi and my cantor. And when I experience other rabbis and cantors, as I did today at our commemoration service which was a collaboration among four temple communities, I do so with a sense of curiosity and intrigue that ultimately leaves me feeling so appreciative of my own. It's a sense of home and comfort, and while I have loved Temple Tikvah since the first Shabbat service we attended, this sense of being drawn there, wanting to physically be in that space and wanting to be around our rabbi more, is newer.

My conversion feels more like an impending wedding than a graduation. It's not about a sense of accomplishment - it's about the anticipation of making a commitment that is very serious and very joyful at the same time, and that signifies how I will spend the rest of my life. I feel absolutely over the moon, and I can't wait until I can just say, "I'm Jewish" without any qualifiers.

I'm soooo eager for April 19, and yet not wanting to rush the in-between, because I know this is something I will never get to experience again. Every moment is precious.