Rosh Hashana

I feel like I've been a Jew for years rather than four and a half months, so it's strange to realize that this time last year, I had not even begun my Intro to Judaism course. I was meeting monthly with my rabbi, and we had taken a break for the High Holy Days since she would be so busy preparing for them. So Rosh Hashana did not have quite the same meaning to me then that it does this year. I knew it was the New Year, and I knew it was followed closely by Yom Kippur (the Day of Atonement) which was connected, but I didn't fully understand it all. I enjoyed my first Rosh Hashana service, but almost more as a curious outsider since I was experiencing it for the first time and without much context.

This year was obviously quite different, and experiencing this "first" - another first holiday as a Jew - reminded me that I AM a new Jew. It shook me out of the comfortable routine that I so quickly settled into the past several months. It made me feel new all over again.

If I wrote about everything I wanted to, this would be absurdly long - the evening Erev Rosh Hashana service, the full-on morning service, the more casual but equally involved second-day service outside in a park with gorgeous weather and surroundings, feeling the Shofar down to my bones, rushing home after the first-day morning service to prepare a dinner for eleven people, getting to hear FOUR beautiful sermons in three days...there is so much that happened that involved a LOT of thoughts and emotions that I wish I could get into. But I'm going to focus on one so that I don't meander and overwhelm myself. Okay, maybe two.

1. Rabbi's First Sermon

Have I mentioned before how I adore and revere my rabbi? Not only is she absolutely brilliant, but she balances that with a sweet and gentle compassion, and is accessible and "one of us" in a way that I am not used to with clergy. I feel soooo lucky to have her.

Her Rosh Hashana sermons were yet another reminder of this. I read an article recently on Tablet that suggested clergy respond to modern American Jews' needs by thinking outside of the box and not being afraid to challenge us in the High Holy Days services. The article suggested that these services may be the only chance to reach and engage many agnostic or minimally observant Jews who disappear the rest of the year. It said that instead of providing a generic experience which can easily blend into one another year after year, clergy should not be afraid to throw a curve ball, make people think, mix it up a bit, make people uncomfortable in a way that gets them thinking. Jews love wrestling with their religion, so give them that opportunity. Even as I read this, I felt proud thinking back to my rabbi's sermon last year on abortion and euthanasia, which apparently was quite controversial as I learned later.

And this year, she did it again. She talked about Torah, and how it is the one thing that all Jews have in common. Orthodox Jews may not recognize her ability to officiate a wedding or serve on a beit din for a conversion, but when she opens her mouth to talk about Torah, they listen. Liberal Jews may have services that look dramatically different from Orthodox services and more closely mimic Protestant Christian services, but in every synagogue all around the world, Jews are reading the same Torah portion. She then talked about why Torah is so important to us, no matter what each individual person believes about it, and admitted herself that she does not believe it literally word for word and that it does not stand up against science as historical fact. She was able to look at Torah in a pragmatic way while not loving or honoring it any less. She talked about why there is still so much value to Torah, that the stories teach values that we live by and that engaging with Torah and studying it and wrestling with it together is how we work toward being better people and knowing God better, no matter what we believe about it factually or about who wrote it. She said that it's easy for people to enjoy and pass down the cultural traditions of Judaism, but that without also passing down the importance and relevance of Torah, we are only passing down an empty shell which will only last for so long. The shell is important and gives us shape, but there needs to be substance as well in order for it to stay relevant and strong for future generations, and Torah is the way to do that.

I'm sure this sermon will be considered controversial as well - and I think that's amazing. Rabbi kept Torah relevant to every single person sitting in that room, no matter what their personal beliefs, in a way that would make them feel validated. If I was a skeptical Jew, a Jew who identified strongly with my cultural traditions enough to want to go to High Holy Day services but unsure of my belief in God and/or feeling disconnected because of how I doubted the validity of much of what is in the Torah, I think hearing that would make me feel relieved, accepted, and curious in a new way about Judaism. It could suddenly be "mine" again, instead of something I WANT to be mine but feel disingenuine about claiming because of my conflicting feelings.

I tried to tell Rabbi this in just a few sentences when she greeted us after the service, but as always, stumbled pitifully over my words and couldn't quite convey it in the moment. But I'm sure she knows, as I'm sure it was her intention in writing this sermon, to have this impact on people.

2. My New Year's Resolution

In the words of Rabbi Nachum Braverman, "On Rosh Hashana we make an accounting of our year and we pray repeatedly for life. How do we justify another year of life? What did we do with the last year? Has it been a time of growth, of insight and caring for others? Did we make use of our time? Has it truly been a year of life, or merely one of mindless activity? This is the time for evaluation and re-dedication. The Jewish process is called 'teshuva,' coming home -- recognizing our mistakes between ourselves and God as well as between ourselves and our fellow man and then correcting them."

I love making New Year's a religious and spiritual holiday that is about refining our souls, assessing our past actions (or inaction), and working toward self-improvement. Instead of a "the past is the past, you can only move forward" approach which is quite in vogue, Judaism challenges us to be painfully honest with ourselves about where we have erred so that we can make an active plan of how to do better.

At the service in the park, Rabbi introduced the private moment for prayer and meditation by suggesting we think/pray about what we want to do differently in the coming year. I hadn't thought about it yet (er, I was supposed to be doing that during the month of Elul but didn't do a great job at that) but it immediately came into my mind. And it came with such force that I feel like intentional thought would not have led to it. As soon as I closed my eyes, it popped into my head - "I want to let God in more."

Maybe that isn't so conventional in that it isn't about working on my character flaws, but I feel like it is indirectly related, and equally important regardless. Isn't feeling God a huge part of what drives us to work on ourselves? To be more considerate, more patient, more outspoken against injustice?

After the high of my conversion, which I rode for almost a month (til about mid-May), settling into Jewish life ironically led to me connecting less with God. I connected with a more abstract version of the Divine through my intense love and appreciation for Shabbat services, our rabbi and her always-inspiring sermons, our cantor and his always-emotionally-moving music, our warm and loving community, weekly Torah study, Jewish news and current events, and any and every opportunity for intellectual stimulation in this sphere. All of that for sure has connected me to the Divine and to Judaism.

But somehow, in a way I'm finding extremely difficult to put into words, I was losing my grip on my personal relationship with God. It was always very external, through the things happening around me and my engagement with others. Don't get me wrong - all that is also a hugely powerful way to connect with God. But, for me at least, it's not sufficient on its own. I can talk to God, but I want to FEEL God, and that means shutting up once in a while, or stopping my eager and racing thoughts long enough to just allow myself emotion. In the ten years between Catholicism and Judaism, I was actually quite expert at this because it was all I had. I had no organized religion, I had no structure and ritual, I had no community. All I had was feeling God. I could just lay in the woods and soak God up without a word. I could pour out my heart in a moment of intense emotion about anything going on in life - anguish, elation, gratitude - and feel that emotion go straight to God. I prayed through feelings more than through words, and in fact, that's how I answered the question at my beit din when Rabbi E asked me to talk about my relationship with God.

But in the past few months, I've actually allowed myself to be distracted by my religion instead of allowing it to enhance that connection. This happened for a while during my class because I was doing so much reading and discussing and studying, but then as I began meeting with my rabbi more frequently, her questions and conversations provoked my emotions again, took me back outside my head where I'm far too comfortable staying. At the mikvah and then again at Shavuot a couple weeks later, I was as emotionally engaged as someone could be. But then I drifted for a bit, and didn't even realize it because I was so happy and fulfilled overall.

As soon as I closed my eyes during the private prayer in the park, after being encouraged to meditate on our resolutions, this came to me with shocking clarity. I didn't know how I would let God in more, what that would entail, but I somehow didn't worry about that too much. I just felt content that I was so secure in the major change I wanted to bring about. (Next year I hope to spend more time in Elul truly assessing my past behavior and where I can change it, but I think I was exactly where I needed to be this year - in fact, it was exactly what I needed in that I based a resolution on pure in-the-moment emotion rather than on something I've been overthinking, a key part of what I was hoping to regain.)

At sundown, Rosh Hashana slipped right into Shabbat, and I went to that service feeling relaxed and fulfilled after two refreshing days off work, beautiful and moving services, and a loving family meal. I don't know if it was this, or the fact that the tunes chosen for the songs that evening all happened to be my favorite and most emotional tunes, or if it was just a natural effect of Rosh Hashana that maybe everyone feels. I suspect it was a combination of the above, but I feel also that it was a direct result of my having put out there to God what I wanted - to let God in more. I didn't even have to TRY. I didn't have to work at it. (Yet.) I just had to voice it, feel that desire unexpectedly in my heart. I just had to want it, spontaneously and deeply and sincerely, and that was enough to make it happen. I spoke (felt?) it into being.

I closed my eyes during most of the Shabbat music and just let it wash over me without any visual distractions, and this literally brought tears to my eyes a minimum of four different times, once full-on streaming down my face. I could just feel it all in a different way, felt God in it all - and it was just a matter of taking it in differently, with my eyes shut.

I wrote in my conversion statement, as one of the reasons I was choosing Judaism, that the Sh'ma moves me every single time. Well, it didn't start moving me so much until I understood what it was and that it was to be said with your eyes closed and with a loud voice so that you can truly HEAR it as you say the words "O hear Israel..." That made all the difference and it immediately became my favorite part of every service, what I look forward to all week. And now not only did I feel that to the point of tears, I felt similarly at several different points (including one prayer that is chanted, not sung, so it wasn't just about the power of the music).

I am realistic in that I know that feeling strongly about any resolution does not just guarantee that you will be able to uphold it for life. I know that this will likely be an ongoing challenge, to let myself just be in the moment and FEEL, which is all it takes for me to feel connected to God. I also know that the last few days have been emotionally intense and that I am at another "spiritual high" which will naturally not be maintained at this level forever. But I do feel that something has irrevocably changed in me for the better.

What more could I ask for in my first Rosh Hashana as a Jew?

And Here We Go!

Our first appointment is scheduled at the fertility clinic. It's a large, reputable, LGBT-friendly clinic with several sites, one of which is less than ten minutes from our house and right by Nicole's job, which will make ongoing appointments very convenient for her. I'm less concerned about convenience, it's a bit easier for me to take sick days or go in late when needed, and I want Nicole to be able to come to all the appointments with me. It's definitely not feasible for her to go into Manhattan and back on a weekday!

I made the appointment in July, within a week of coming home and seeing Nicole looking at donor profiles online. I wasn't sure how to present myself to the receptionist, and I thought saying I wanted to schedule a free consultation would be enough. That's what it said on the website, after all. I thought it would be straightforward enough that the next question would be, "okay, when would you like to come in?" But instead, she asked me what the purpose of my visit was. I paused and then stammered, "What do you mean? I want the initial consultation. When I clicked for 'more information' on the website, it said I could have a free consultation. I guess I just want to start the process." Smooth. She said, "Yes, but what is your issue? Have you been having difficulty getting pregnant?"

Ah. I'd let myself forget how I have to "come out" in new arenas. Of course that would be the assumption made when someone calls a fertility clinic. (Especially since it's actually called an infertility clinic, and I just edit it for my own purposes.) I said, "Oh, well we are a same-sex couple wanting to conceive." As awkward as it was to say that when it went against her assumption, her voice immediately brightened. I guess if you are used to dealing with calls from sad, frustrated, struggling people, maybe it is welcome to get a call from someone who is excited and hopeful. They rarely see people at the beginning of their fertility journey, I imagine.

I requested an October appointment, and she said, amused, "October? That's kind of far ahead, we are only booked up through August right now." Well, how was I supposed to know how far ahead you get booked up? Give me credit for being proactive in my planning! She asked when we want to conceive, and with my heart in my throat, I said, "December." She said, "Oh okay, then October is perfect for that first meeting. Bring your most recent PAP and bloodwork, and I'll send you paperwork to fill out in advance and bring with you." So next I had to schedule a GYN appointment for September 30 so that I will be all good to go!

Of course I started filling out the paperwork the next day when she sent it to me. I was just so excited and it felt like something I could get started on before October, which felt soooo far away. It is INTENSE. I know its target audience is couples struggling with fertility, but since, despite the medical process, I feel more closely aligned with couples who are just starting to try to get pregnant, it just hit me as very odd that someone needed to know all this about me in order to try! I mean, it is pages and pages of questions, and it was just so surreal to think of how little preparation and thought need to go into an average opposite-sex couple's initial attempts to get pregnant. You could check off "yes" for all these boxes of health issues, and still be allowed to just try to get pregnant without anyone's advice or input. It just felt so odd! It felt like we were applying to have a baby.

I'm so excited for October. I can't wait to learn about what is next!

Temple Review

Temple First
Last Friday, when our rabbi was away, we went to the first synagogue that I ever set foot in, over two years ago. We had gone to this one twice, and on the third attempt as we again panicked and tried to rush through horrible commuter traffic, we had to admit defeat and look again for somewhere closer to us, which ended up being Temple Tikvah, our current home. We hadn't been back since, and I was feeling nostalgic and wanted to recreate that first experience.

Synagogue
The building is small and modest with a huge floor-to-ceiling (ground-to-roof?) glass wall at the front. It exposes everything inside, and from the outside I didn't like it. It wasn't aesthetically appealing. Also the parking lot was very small. When we went in, we were at the top and needed to take a very open and visible staircase down to the sanctuary. I remember hating this aspect when we first went here two years ago because I felt so awkwardly exposed. It's like you're presenting yourself at a ball! Everyone is milling around at the bottom (not so many people that you'd escape notice) and here you come gliding down the staircase, and with that huge glass wall. It didn't bother me so much this time just because I was more comfortable in my own skin.

The service was held outside the sanctuary, much like ours in the summer. This meant we had to go peek into the sanctuary afterward for me to fully indulge my nostalgia. It is a simple, generic sanctuary that feels cozy, and I liked the folk-art ark doors.The area the service was held in was more conducive for it than our temple's summer area, which is in a huge open auditorium. This area was smaller and cozy, with the glass wall providing a view into a mini-garden and with the top opening up to a wrap-around balcony hallway from the classrooms.

Congregants
The congregation was awesome. Entirely middle-aged and senior, but warm, relatable, chatty, playful, kind, welcoming, funny, and savvy. It was a modest, down-to-earth bunch who greeted us with sincere joy and welcome, and it was a pleasure to see their banter and the clear bond they all have. And it wasn't an exclusive bond. It felt like you could easily become a part of the group, and that you would be welcomed with open arms. This is the most comfortable I've felt in any new congregation we've encountered, including our own, which took a little more than one single Shabbat service for us to be noticed and approached and included. There were certain individuals who knew we were coming who made sure to reach out to us, introduce us to a few people, and help us feel comfortable, but I can't say that many random congregants did the same. It helps me realize the importance of that, and that I myself need to overcome my shyness to welcome new people in our midst. That feeling is what brings someone back a second time.

Rabbi
Well, I knew she would be great because I had experienced her before! She was the first rabbi I had ever met, and I remember her as being similar to my rabbi and to my Intro class rabbi in their level of warmth and in-touch spirituality. You can tell they really feel everything they're doing, during a service or anything else, and that love of God and Judaism is infectious. That's something that I really connect with in a rabbi, and I haven't found it elsewhere yet (not that I've been to all that many places yet). It's not just a given. Many clergy are a lot more restrained. I remember being impacted by this rabbi's D'Var Torah, but this night, she didn't give one! She said that she had an article that really disturbed her that she'd like to discuss at the oneg with anyone who was willing. I thought maybe it was too disturbing to read there so she was finding a way to make it optional, but it wasn't disturbing in that sense, so I'm not sure what that was about. It's very strange to go through an entire Shabbat service without a D'Var Torah, and in fact it didn't really feel like the service was being led as much as just facilitated. I was disappointed by this because I know she is smart and that I liked her and I wanted the opportunity to be moved and impacted by her. That's one of the joys of having a rabbi.

I did like the idea of an interactive conversation around an article, though. It was dynamic and interesting and the people involved really got into it. I don't think it's feasible to do that every week, because the rabbi doesn't get to circulate and socialize at the oneg if she has to lead a discussion in the corner, but it's certainly nice to have once in a while. I really enjoyed the discussion.

Music
This congregation does not have a cantor, so various congregants take turns leading the music. While the music wasn't great because of this, there is something very touching in the members' willingness to fill that role, and to support one another in it to enhance their Shabbat experience. It's a beautiful example of community and social responsibility. But in the end, I really missed having our cantor's gorgeous voice and a strong vocal leader for the music. This particular guest-cantor sang very softly while playing the guitar. He seemed much more comfortable leading the music by playing guitar, and lot less secure in his voice. The congregation has some very secure, loud singers (and some beautiful ones, too!) so they happily took charge of that, and it wasn't necessary for him to be any louder than he was comfortable with. Again, that was a beautiful experience, even if I prefer having a strong cantor. Not having a cantor DOES rush the service, though, because the music is pretty straightforward and there is no soft lingering on certain parts that I'm accustomed to. They also sang and chanted things that, to my understanding, are supposed to be standard across the board (as opposed to much of our music which has many variations), and they were doing them pretty differently. It made it hard to follow along, and also just didn't feel right.

Consensus
Not having a cantor was a pretty big strike. Even though it's not uncommon, I have just gotten used to that luxury and am not sure I would want to do without it. But if this temple were closer to home AND (a big, big and) I had never encountered Temple Tikvah, I could easily see myself making this temple my home. It has everything else I would want, at least within this Shabbat service experience. The people and the rabbi are warm, loving, welcoming, and solid, and after my other recent experiences, that is not something I take for granted.

Temple Hopping

Our rabbi was on vacation the last two weeks, and will be again next week, so Nicole and C and I have taken this opportunity to go on temple field trips. I was the one pushing for this, Nicole had pretty easily agreed, and then C got excited when we told her so we invited her along.

It's strangely difficult to me to be at a service at our synagogue without our rabbi leading. It makes me kind of sad and feels "better than nothing" but not the same. So since Temple Tikvah was only the second synagogue I had ever set foot in in my entire life, I have used these rare opportunities to make the best out of the situation by sating my curiosity over what other Shabbat experiences are like.

When sharing this with the temple president yesterday, who had asked me where we've been and showed great interest in my response, she asked me if I'd like to be on the Religious Affairs committee, because they discuss service structure etc. She said they would love to have my input on what I've noted in other synagogues and services. I was so honored that I immediately said yes, I'd love to. I can't explain how this made me feel like a real, recognized Jew for my own temple to feel I could have a valuable contribution and want to include me in the conversation.

So here I will make notes for myself to bring there. I had planned on writing about my Shabbat experiences anyway, but put it off and may never have gotten to it, so this is a good motivator. I will not use the temple names, as I may be critical of some aspects and would never want anyone to inadvertently stumble upon this blog and see that about their own congregation. My intention is to learn and compare, not to offend others. And I also have the extreme bias of being totally in love with my own temple, so that any other experience inevitably leaves me feeling homesick, and that's an unfair perspective.

Temple Seattle
Before our Alaska cruise in June, we went to a Shabbat service in Seattle, which was my first temple experience outside of NYC/Long Island.

Synagogue
The temple was on a huge city block with quite a lot of lawn for an urban area. The building was sprawling and had someone guarding one door, which was a little unsettling. The synagogue was built in the late 1800s, which was AWESOME. Unfortunately, though, we didn't get to see the old sanctuary, as they use the smaller, more casual and comfortable one for regular services. I wish we'd been bold enough to peek into the main sanctuary to see what it looked like. The one we were in was pretty modern and bare, but comfortable, and the Ark was pretty.

Congregants
I was surprised that the crowd was a bit younger. Our congregation is mostly middle-aged and older - I can count one hand the number of people under 35 who attend regularly. It ends up that there were several students visiting from the university a few blocks away. But there was also a lesbian couple and a few other young hip people who clearly come pretty regularly.

Rabbi
The rabbi was a young married man whose three- or four-year-old daughter sat in the front row. He was pretty personable and seemed to have a good rapport with the congregants. I enjoyed his D'Var Torah, as he very neatly linked the Torah portion to current events and modern life, much as our rabbi does. He was pretty cool. There are two campuses and several rabbis among them, and the "youth rabbi" was present this evening also. Someone who had helped us find the entrance outdoors later introduced us to him, even though we had said we were just visiting. He didn't know we were just visiting, and was very enthusiastic as he worked to engage us until we told him we were here on vacation. I'm not sure what a "youth rabbi" does, or where the age cut-off is for "youth," but he clearly knew a lot of the young people in attendance so it must work as an engagement strategy.

Music
This synagogue had no cantor, or at least not that night. The rabbi was musically accompanied by a late-adolescent boy who helped lead the music with guitar but didn't sing. The rabbi did all the singing and was not very loud about it so we were really just hearing ourselves. His voice was average so I suppose he didn't want to showcase himself too much, but I'm just used to a strong, powerful voice leading the congregation in song. I loved the way they sang "Mi Chamocha." It was less upbeat, softer and very moving. That very next week, our cantor led the song in that same way! Nicole and I immediately looked at each other and lit up.

Consensus
This was an overall positive experience, and if we lived in Seattle and had been trying out this temple, we would have come back for more.

Temple Rich

Synagogue
Last Friday C and I did a double-feature (Nicole just went to the first one). The first we went to was in an affluent neighborhood. The building was like a piece of art, just architecturally gorgeous, and on a huge lot with very beautiful and well-maintained gardens. We didn't get to see the main sanctuary because the service was being held in the courtyard that night, which was an exciting idea to us and was why I left work a few minutes early to make it out there for 6:30. (Our services are at 8:00...Shabbat doesn't even begin during a 6:30 summer service, but it's more in demand by people with young kids and those who want to go out on a Friday evening.) It was nice in theory, and the courtyard was beautiful with an incredible cool breeze and not-too-bright clear sunny sky, but it was jam-packed and the speakers weren't set up in a way that could reach everyone. We had a lot of difficulty hearing the rabbi from the back.

Congregants
The people were definitely upper-class. They were wearing fancy clothes, the women had a very "Desperate Housewives" look to them, and we passed three Lexuses in a row to get to a parking spot. Affluent people should have the same opportunity to worship together, and it shouldn't have been such a conspicuous issue to me, but it made me uncomfortable. I felt very self-conscious and missed my own congregation with many working-class and middle-class folk who are all struggling to get by in a high-cost-of-living area. That doesn't mean no one in my synagogue has money, but there is definitely a diverse range, whereas I felt very isolated and alienated in this group. I was impressed initially at how many people showed up for a regular Friday night service, but then noticed that so many of them were disengaged. The participation in song, prayer, and chanting was very scattered, and the woman next to me was playing on her phone inside her purse the whole time as if no one would notice because it wasn't out on her lap. I didn't feel at all connected to the people here, though clearly they feel some draw to one another and to the temple.

Rabbi
This congregation has two rabbis, and the non-senior rabbi led this service. He was a young man and, to us, seemed disappointingly disconnected in his leading of the service. I guess I would think a young rabbi would still be excited and passionate, but he was kind of monotone and it felt like he was going through the motions. Also his D'Var Torah felt lazy. He threw out a few verses from the week's Torah portion and then asked people to talk about what it means to them. That was it. There was nothing of himself or his own thinking in there, and it felt like he didn't have to put any work into it. It felt like he was guiding a Torah study, though even with that, our rabbi adds her own input for us to learn from, debate, wrestle with. Also, it was a difficult forum for an interactive discussion because we couldn't hear anyone and it was hard for the rabbi to navigate through the large crowd to get to people with the microphone (which didn't help much). The content itself was about not forgetting that there are needy people out there, and it was so directed at a people so privileged that they CAN forget about the needy, that it made us feel awkward and almost spotlighted. "Hi, the three of us struggle paycheck to paycheck trying to figure out how to afford life, and also collect tzedakah with what little we can." I guess this is a sermon this group needed and was relevant to them, but it was uncomfortable for us where all of this isn't so far-removed from our reality.

Music
The congregation has two cantors, a male and a female, who sang together. Their voices were absolutely beautiful together, with some very well-rehearsed and unique harmonies. I was totally moved by their performances, but also frustrated that they sang the songs so uniquely that none of us could sing WITH them. Singing is such a major part of prayer and worship in Judaism, and Shabbat felt strange without being able to engage in that. The focus was on spotlighting these two beautiful voices and not on having the congregation join together in song.

Consensus
Taken as a nice, breezy outdoor concert with fellow Jews, it was a nice experience. But as a Shabbat service, it lacked a lot - it lacked a substantive and enlightening D'Var Torah, an engaging rabbi, and friendly and relatable congregants. I would only go back if it were for some very special type of service AND my rabbi was not leading our own.

Temple Ikea
At 8:00 that same evening, we went to a nearby Reconstructionist synagogue. I have been eager to experience Reconstructionist Judaism ever since I learned about it in my conversion class, where we read about all the different movements. It had sounded like something so perfect to me that, for a moment, I second-guessed my decision to affiliate with the Reform movement. I knew I could always attend Reconstructionist services after conversion, that converting within the Reform movement didn't tie me down (unless I want to be Orthodox), but I already loved my rabbi and my temple. Part of me was curious and wanted to experience Reconstructionism, but another part of me felt threatened by exposure to other movements. I'm now secure enough in my love for Reform Judaism, and my identity as a Jew who can choose to belong to and attend services at my current temple regardless of what movement I most closely identify with. So when C suggested checking out a Reconstructionist service, I was completely on board.

Synagogue
I have been drawn to Reconstructionism (is that a word?) because it was described in one of my books as a movement that is just as socially progressive and liberal as Reform Judaism but with more traditional levels of religious observance. That sounded like a dream of a combination to me - the best of both worlds! But the stricter adherence to me read as "more traditional," and there is warmth and comfort in tradition. However, this is not how I experienced this temple. It was a very modern structure, with a stark and modern sanctuary. Like at our temple, the smaller summer services are held in a smaller room to conserve air conditioning, but we peeked into the sanctuary afterward. It had individual seats instead of pews, and a strange new-agey looking Ark that was like a carpeted circle with a spacey design. Even the Judaica around the synagogue had a modern twist to them. Kind of cool in an artsy way, but I wouldn't want that to be my environment on a regular basis. It was just too modern. When I later showed Nicole the picture I'd taken of it, she said it looked like an Ikea temple!



(That's C up there.)



(yes, that's actually an Ark...and it's carpeted.)

Congregants
The people in attendance were much more our kind of crowd than those at Temple Rich. They seemed very down-to-earth, companionable with one another, and connected to their rabbi and temple. Out of a small crowd of maybe 20 or 25 people, there was a gay-male couple with their daughter and a young college-age lesbian. The rest were older, much like our congregation. There was much conversation (sometimes at inappropriate times) and I have no doubt that we would have been warmly approached had we stayed for the oneg.

Rabbi
The rabbi was a woman probably in her late thirties or very early forties. She seemed very connected to her congregation, clearly beloved, but as C said, did not seem very holy. She seemed like just any other congregant who happened to be leading the service. I am used to our rabbi who is so clearly into every service, very much feeling God's presence and the joy of Shabbat. She is just very openly spiritual, and that's something I can relate to. This rabbi didn't give that off. She led the service in a way that any other experienced congregant could do. There wasn't that special something extra that I feel a rabbi should bring to their role. Also, she was inappropriately dressed, in my opinion, which made it hard to take her seriously because I was so appalled. She wore a short dress that was sheer so you could see the outline of her black bra, and it was unbuttoned all the way down through her cleavage so you could see the sides of her breasts. Then she had a necklace draping right out over the top button, spilling out from between her breasts, which she toyed with throughout the service, bringing your attention right to that area. The outfit was topped off with sky-high heels. I'm really not trying to be judgmental, and I know that male rabbis don't suffer this same kind of scrutiny. But God forgive me, I guess I have taken for granted the classiness of our own rabbi. I just shouldn't be seeing your bare breasts bouncing as you sing. It's a problem to me.

I also had the same issue with her as I did at Temple Rich, where the D'Var Torah felt lazy. I don't even know if you can call it a D'Var Torah, because I'm not sure it was related to God or the Torah in any way. She recited something she'd read from a poet about feeling most white when against a multi-colored background, and engaged congregants in a group discussion about what this means for each of them. She didn't say what it meant to her, didn't expound on anyone's responses very much, didn't relate it to the Torah portion. She just quoted a sentence and let people run with it. And run, and run, and run. It was well past 9:00 and people were still responding, and she didn't seem able to redirect them or cut it off. Again, this is something our rabbi is quite skilled in, as she has to be mindful of time in Torah study and even in Shabbat services.

Music
A sweet, young, pretty preschool-teacher-like woman played guitar and sang a little (though clearly was not a cantor), and sometimes the tunes were a little off but overall it was okay. I don't know if they regularly have a cantor or not, but this accompaniment would have been sufficient if the guitarist/singer had been able to keep the tunes so that we could all sing along consistently without suddenly being thrown off by going awkwardly flat. I'm aware that I'm being pretty critical here, as we do have the luxury of an intense and beautiful cantor and not every temple can afford that. If you aren't able to have a cantor, this woman's role was helpful and nice, but maybe she and the rabbi should just practice some of the tunes together a bit more so that the congregants can follow along better.

Consensus
I'm not so enthralled with Reconstructionism, as the modern feel of everything was actually the opposite of what I expected. Although since I don't know if it's just specific to this temple, I'd be willing to try one somewhere else also. If I was Reconstructionist, knowing how very few synagogues there are to explore, if this was close to me I would make it my temple home. The warm community and the lack of Reconstructionist options would assist me in making this choice. But I'm glad I'm Reform and have more options and have my own temple home, because the service was lacking in the intelligent, insightful, creative, and spiritual intensity that I am used to at home. I also don't think I'd feel as comfortable in the huge, cavernous, stark regular sanctuary that is used most of the year. Overall a bit too modern and out-of-touch for my liking.


Last night our rabbi was back, and we were so ridiculously homesick for her and our temple. But next week she will be gone again, and we will return to the first synagogue we ever attended, which we didn't end up staying at because of how far it was from our Queens apartment. There will be some nostalgia in that which will help me get through til our rabbi is back again, and then holy crap, the High Holy Days are right around the corner!

Donor Selected!

And we have seed!!!

Well, technically we don't have it yet. And technically we aren't 100% sure that it is still available. But we know what we want and are hoping for the best, and will cross any other bridges when we get to them.

Last Thursday, we went out to dinner with our fellow lesbian-couple friends A&A who have a 20-month-old and a 3-year-old. The little one was conceived by an anonymous donor, and the older one was conceived using a known donor. Our friends were asking us about where we were in the whole process and we told them we had begun looking at donor profiles. We told them a bit about the main traits we were looking for, and they both jumped in excitedly to say that our description matched their little one's donor and they would have no weirdness around us using that donor as well.

Nicole and I looked at each other and knew right away that we were on the same page with this - an immediate excitement and sense of "oh YES, of course, this is right!!" None of us were uncomfortable or weirded out by it, and in fact we all felt a sense of comfort in knowing we'd know at least one other child born of this donor, as opposed to just having no idea. We were also in instant agreement that our kids would not be raised with any sense of being siblings or half-siblings, but also not planning on hiding anything from them. It will just always be what it is - hey, your friend N had the same donor as you. Cool. And they just are never, ever allowed to date! :)

So we have our sperm - Jewish, dark hair and eyes, college-educated, of both Eastern and Western European descent, pretty solid health history, and willing to be known by the child when the child turns 18 if the child so wishes. Everything that has been important to us! And on top of that, it's at a sperm bank that is a little cheaper than the others we've been looking at, and we didn't have to pay to view the profiles or the baby photo. Our friends had already done that and showed us on their phone at dinner.

The donor is from California and was just donating while in school here in NYC. I like that he probably isn't still donating in NYC, and if he is still donating, it is probably now in California. However, this also means we don't know if there is still a supply from him here. But we are certainly excited and hopeful!

I love, love, love the nontraditional ways of queer family-making. It can be so communal and loving and supportive, and I just adore it.

Seeking: Short Nerdy Jew (with strong swimmers)

I came home two nights ago to Nicole looking at sperm donor profiles online. Yes, that’s right. She took initiative on this.

Nicole has been a few steps behind me in eagerness for this undertaking, hence my needing this blog as an outlet for my anticipation. But recently she has started to catch up, and it continues to take me by pleased surprise. We have casually played around with names for several months now, and she recently suggested that we may be in a position to start trying to get pregnant at the end of the year. I gently reminded her that if we want to start trying in December, we need to start planning several months beforehand. I left it at that, as I find it better to plant a seed and then walk away and let it ruminate and grow for a bit. (This is how I got on the path to conversion with her alongside me in renewed Jewish observance!) This way she can work it out in her own mind and decide at her own pace, without coercion or pressure.

So a few days later, I came home to see her on her laptop in the kitchen. Not an unusual sight. I had come home late from work so she had already eaten. I got my plate and joined her at the table, assuming she was playing her favorite online game. And suddenly she said, “This one has a French Canadian parent!” I said, “This who?” She said, “This donor.” Wait, WHAT??

We spent the next half hour perusing the list that got much shorter once I insisted she screen for Jewish heritage first. She has said in the past that she doesn’t want her child to have her “Jewish features” and wants them to have my blue eyes. Well, they can have a fair shot at that, but only as much as they would if the two of us could create a child together. I want our child to share as many like traits from the two of us as is possible. I don’t want to screen for desired qualities that aren’t true to her. And as I said to her, for me “Jewish features” – whatever that may be! – is what is desirable to me. I adore everything about my wife, even that which makes her cringe, and I would love nothing more than to see even some of that in our child. I have no inclination to try to create a child that looks just like me.

So this is the beginning of our sperm search. Because she was already in a good place with all of this, exhibiting curiosity and interest, I also gently broached the topic of an initial consultation at a fertility clinic, which we should do in the fall if we want to start trying in December. She didn’t balk at that or panic, which was a really good sign.

Maybe this blog will finally be about our path to pregnancy!

Tisha B'Av

Today is Tisha B'Av, a Jewish national day of mourning for the destruction of both temples. For strict observers, it involves not listening to music or celebrating or having fun for three weeks, fasting the first and last day (24 hours without food OR water), nine days of abstaining from meat, and more. For Reform Jews...well, I've recently learned that many say, "Tisha B'what??"

In trying to find my own path to making Tisha B'Av personally meaningful over the past few weeks, I was told by one person, "Reforms don't really do that," while others asked what the day is. One person at my synagogue sitting behind me in services last week said, "I only ever heard the name at Jewish camp as a kid, and didn't know what it was," while someone in Torah study said, "As a kid I always heard people say stay away from water, which was hard in summer, and I didn't understand why."

Well, this year Rabbi educated those in attendance, and it was so wonderful to see the level of curiosity, interest, and interaction among congregants around this topic. She offered explanation for why many Reform Jews are not so observant of this day, and engaged us in discussion around how we can make it meaningful to us so that it does not just go by completely ignored.

Friday evening, Rabbi's sermon was about the Haftarah portion which was relevant to Tisha B'Av, and she used that to get conversation going around it. In the summer, services have a smaller turnout and are held in another room (not in the sanctuary) where it is cooler. This means a more intimate and casual gathering, and it was so smart to utilize this forum to get people involved in the sermon. Rabbi explained that many Reforms moved away from observing Tisha B'Av because we don't agree with such intensive mourning around the destruction of the temples in a way that implies our wish to have them back. Reform Jews are very proud of the Diaspora and wouldn't necessarily wish for all Jews to be in Israel and at the temple. Reform Jews also enjoy the way Jewish spirituality currently manifests and would not wish to return to a time of priests and animal sacrifices. Thus, such severe mourning over the temples' destruction and the atmosphere of those times feels inauthentic.

However, the destruction of the temple is just one of many, many times throughout history in which Jews were persecuted, in which a group in power attempted to completely obliterate the Jewish people. Tisha B'Av provides an opportunity to mourn this persecution, the loss of Jewish lives, and the suppression of Jewish culture. It encourages us to be contemplative and to let ourselves FEEL the pain of this. It reminds us of our painful history so that we can increase our joy and appreciation the rest of the year and so that we don't forget where we have come from and what we have survived. It can even remind us of where persecution still exists, against us or against others.

How can I make that meaningful for me? How can I spend three weeks feeling this in a way that is meaningful and not emptily ritualistic?

I can tell you fasting didn't work for me! I tried the first day and was so miserable and cranky. I felt physically unwell which affected my job performance (which affects people's lives) and my interactions with those around me. So not only was it causing harm, but my resentment around how I was feeling certainly didn't aid me in mourning and contemplating.

I think next year I may observe similarly to how I used to observe Lent as a Catholic. I will not give up all opportunities for joy in the beautiful summer I am given, but I will give up something so that I feel and can stay sobered by its loss for that period of time. I can also continue to take on opportunities for staying mentally and emotionally engaged in the meaning of Tisha B'Av, which I did this year by attending Rabbi's beautiful Lamentations study and by attending a temple field trip to the little Holocaust Museum out on Long Island.

I'm finding my balance, and am grateful for the dialogue I can have with my peers and my rabbi to help me find the path of observance that is right for me.