Well, I've got to tell you - when I got the letter from Rabbi Stahl, I accepted the honor to speak here today immediately.. without really thinking. When I sat down to write my speech, I was stuck. So I talked it over with a couple of friends and looked at the issues from a number of different angles. I was having a hard time coming up with a story. I began to realize that it hadn't been until the last year or two that I could articulate what my Judaism meant to me. At first, it seemed so easy..."The Impact of Judaism on My Life"..sure, no problem. I'd been Jewish for 37 years. I had Jewish friends, I'd been confirmed right here in these hallowed halls, I'd been to Max's more than ten times the first month it opened.this should have been easy.

See, the reason it was so difficult to write this is that the story constantly changes. There are so many different aspects and disjointed memories. What should I talk about? My family? Education? Discrimination? The conversion process? What about my involvement in the community? Think about it..what exactly describes the essence of Judaism for you? Let me share with you how I worked through this.

Growing up in Seguin, Texas, I was one of eight Jewish kids in the entire school system. All of the others were named Pomerantz, too. Early on, I knew we were different. Sometimes, that was a good thing, like when my mom came to school to talk about Hanukkah or Passover. But sometimes it was a bad thing, as when some kids spray painted my cousins' white cars with red swastikas.

Our family visits to Temple Beth-El were confined to evening and morning services for both Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur. We also drove into San Antonio every week for Religious School. So don't tell me it's far from Deerfield or Inwood. I learned about the holidays and the Holocaust in Religious School, but I always felt like an outsider, since I only saw the kids once a week.

My parents made a real effort to create a Jewish home in Seguin, too. We said the Hamotzi before every meal. We had Shabbat candles and wine before dinner on Friday nights. We decorated the house and celebrated Hanukkah in a major way. We always attended the community Seder. And my grandparents - they just seemed so Jewish - they'd come from Houston with their heavy accents and equally thick slices of salami or smoked white fish. My grandfather would tell us stories about the "Old Country" (now I know he made them up) and everything Jewish seemed so sacred to them.

Somehow, I also knew that my parents' real friends were Jewish, and that they wanted me to experience what that was like. My family tried hard to construct a Jewish identity for us. They made it a priority. My parents were willing to keep us home from Friday night football games so we could go to services during Confirmation. They never hesitated when the High Holidays fell on a school day. They helped me understand how to feel comfortable with myself in a world where I was different. I had experienced the humiliating brutality of prejudice on more than one occasion in Seguin. I consider it to be somewhat of a miracle that I escaped there with a sense of Jewish identity at all, much less with Judaism having a positive impact on my life.

Off I went to Emory University, where the vast majority of my classmates were from the Northeast and definitely Jewish. Here was my big chance to be Jewish among Jews, to be part of the majority instead of stepping in and out of my Judaism like a Halloween costume. I pledged a Jewish sorority. I made Jewish friends. I learned a whole new vocabulary and the geography of Long Island. I studied the history and politics of the Middle East and spent six weeks in Israel. Judaism's impact, which before had been full of rituals and folklore, took on a second layer for me. This one was rich with humor and attitude; I mean Attitude with a capital "A." The culture of the school made it seem normal to be a Jew. I had a blast in Atlanta. I remember thinking how weird it must be for the gentile kids at Emory. When I graduated in 1982, I wondered if I would ever feel that "Jewish" again.

Over the next several years I lived in Iowa, Wisconsin, Pennsylvania, and New York before moving to Plano. I met a few Jewish people along the way. I joined synagogues in each community. I attended services during the High Holy Days and I even worked cards on Super Sunday once or twice. Still, my closest friends were not Jewish, save the ones I was still in touch with from college. I was Jewish, but the impact Judaism had on my life at this time was isolated, not generalized to my entire life.

I met and began dating my husband in January of 1984. I was assigned by EDS to "show him the ropes" at our new account. We were friends for a long time before there was anything romantic between us. Brian had never met a Jew before. At his request, we started a year-long course of study at Temple Shalom in Dallas, similar to the Introduction to Judaism course taught here. We both felt it was important for him to know as much as possible about Judaism if we were going to spend the rest of our lives together.

I had always said it was important to me to raise my children Jewish, but I had never given a lot of thought to what that meant. I had always said that it did not matter to me if Brian ever converted or not. But now I think I was naive about that statement, as well. What we learned in the class really got the ball rolling as far as Brian and I were concerned. We learned a lot about marriage and kids and what to expect in a mixed marriage vs. one where we committed to a single religion. We began to focus on the kind of life we wanted to build. Brian was attracted to the intellectual flexibility of Reform Judaism and its emphasis on mitzvot. He decided to convert.

I enjoyed the conversion process. Studying Judaism as an adult was so different than learning about it in Religious School. I began to see how religion might play a part in my everyday life, as I gained a deeper understanding of the basic tenets of Judaism. I could make sense of the theology and doctrine that had eluded me as a child. After Brian's conversion, I felt my Judaism more strongly, but I was curious about our God. For me, God had to be more than the Avinu Malkeinu we worship during these High Holy Days, or the God who led our people out of Egypt to the Promised Land. God was a tough subject for me.See, all my life, I had vacillated between atheism and agnosticism.

I became close friends with a devout Christian in Plano. We talked about all sorts of things, and I could see the important role religion-specifically her relationship with God-played in her life. My Christian friends took me to Bible studies and to church. I started listening to contemporary Christian music and went to Amy Grant and Steven Curtis Chapman concerts. I read several Christian texts and spent time considering how all this applied to me or, conversely, how I fit into all of this. For me, Christian theology had a few insurmountable obstacles like the Trinity, the resurrection, and the emphasis on faith over works. But the God I heard about and read about and the power of grace and prayer spoke to my heart.

I could see God everywhere - in a clear blue Texas sky or the sun glittering across Lake McQueeney. I could hear God in contemporary Christian music and in the sound of kids laughing at something silly. I could feel God in me - in that still, quiet part of each of us that is just right, when things have a way of working out that you never could have predicted. I even feel God when things don't go so well, when someone I love is in pain or I don't act the way I should, and God is there to comfort, to forgive and to offer healing. It's when you know you are on center and you know you are doing the right thing - that's the little piece of God in me.

I'm lucky. I am really lucky. My parents laid down a good Jewish home and gave me the self-confidence and curiosity to seek out the right answers for me. I had enough of a taste of Judaism to be committed to it. My Christian friends introduced me to God on a personal level, but they never could have swayed my Jewish convictions. I came to know this loving and beautiful God way later in my life than I would have liked. I don't know why God wasn't a bigger part of my life before-why I didn't learn more about God in Religious School. But my relationship with God today has made my Judaism broader, stronger, deeper and more meaningful than it was before.

Today we live in San Antonio and have a beautiful son, Sam, who fills our lives with joy every minute of every day. I want him to have a strong sense of his Jewish identity, and I want him to feel the spiritual warmth of our heritage. What can I do about it? Well, I am fairly intense and I have a lot of energy. So I try to play an active role in our Jewish agencies and Temple committees. I want to help build a strong community that supports kids as they forge their Jewish identity. I participate in services and study sessions so that I will be able to teach Sam about his religion, his history, his God.

So here's the bottom line. The impact of Judaism on your life is not static-it is not a point you reach. It is a question for each of us to ponder over and over and over. See, when I graduated from college my Jewish identity was grounded in Jewish culture. My Judaism dealt mainly with the foods I ate, the few Yiddish words I knew, the prayers I said when I went to services, and maybe my sense of humor. There's nothing wrong with that-it's just not as substantial as where I am today. My participation in Brian's conversion process highlighted the intellectual impact of Judaism for me. I knew so much more than I did as a kid, but Judaism was still my religion, carefully reserved for religious occasions. Somewhere between finding God and having Sam, things changed. I gained spiritual strength from a more personal relationship with God. My responsibility in the community began to resonate more strongly the first time I heard Sam's heartbeat. I grab hold of Judaism with both hands now. It drives my decisions regarding community service, finances, family values and education.almost everything.

So what about the impact of Judaism on my life? Well, I went through all this and what I have come to realize is that for me it is a tapestry.one with many layers spun in a variety of colors and textures, where some threads are old, some new, some weathered and some brilliant all within their places. The whole thing wraps around me, and each thread plays a part in defining my Jewish identity. As Brian and I establish ourselves here in San Antonio, we feel even more strongly about maintaining a Jewish identity for ourselves, for our children, and for our community. In this new year (5758), I feel blessed in so many ways..the impact of Judaism on my life is one of those.

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