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Home Presentation for Yom Kippur Symposium 5770, September 28, 2009
I am a Jew, and I'm proud of it. That may seem like an odd statement to make, but while I've always felt that inside, it is something I honestly wasn't able to say out loud for many years of my life.
It didn't start that way. I was born into a loving Jewish home, as my mother would say the luck of the drop of the stork. And I grew up in this beautiful sanctuary.
Often as a child, my grandparents Ann and Morry Beldon would bring the grandkids- on rare occasions all 12 of us at once- to services here on Friday night. Their friends would often comment that we looked little ducklings following them down the aisle. It was always a special event. First Night Hawk for dinner, then services here in the Sanctuary, and then often- if we were lucky- a sleepover at their house.
Being Jewish as a child was filled with these kinds of traditions with our very large extended family. Passover with the best homemade matzo balls at Nana and Papa's House; Chanukah with the annual potato latke fire at the Beldons; and “Break the fast but please don't break anything else” at our house. Even a Kentucky Fried Chicken dinner at my grandparents was something special because we would first celebrate the beginning of Shabbat in Nana's kitchen.
I can still vividly see her saying the prayer over the Shabbat candles, waving her hands over the flames and covering her eyes. We'd fight over the drumsticks...then beg to know when the “don't swim for 15 minutes or you'll drown” rule was up after dinner. Those are priceless memories for me.
My identity as a Jew early on was directly tied to those family experiences. We had tradition down pat.
As for spiritually, which has to come from within, it would take me several years to find that. I don' t recall ever being a fan of religious school- I think we do a much better job today of exciting our children about Jewish learning. . .and back in those days, girls at Temple Beth-El rarely studied Hebrew or celebrated the Joys of becoming a Bat Mitzvah. So for me, while I was definitely Jewish, I wasn't yet living my life fully as a Jew. That said, at 13 I was happy with my life and my family traditions.
Then “IT” happened. A horrible instance of anti-Semitism at my middle school at the end of 8th grade. I had, of course read about Jews being enslaved in Egypt, about the Holocaust and Anne Frank, but this was my first personal exposure to anti-Semitism and it was horrible.
I was helping my cousin Brad with his student council campaign, he was running against the most popular boy in his grade. It was a close race and to say the least it got heated. Kids who had been our friends - many of whom I had known since 2nd grade - suddenly turned against us in the ugliest of ways.
They turned the heat of the campaign into an attack on the Jewish religion. Brad and I were called horrible names; kids made horrible slurs and accusations; someone even drew a swastika on Brad's driveway. For several days, we were berated in the lunch room and during recess.
What started as just a few kids who- I know now- had no idea what they had started, grew into a pack mentality and the situation swelled out of control. It was painful and devastating for Brad and me both.
We were fortunate to have wonderful school administrators who took quick action as soon as they learned what was going on.
The kids involved were reprimanded, their parents were called and the culprits were ordered to apologize for their actions which I reluctantly accepted, but the damage had been done. Only one of my friends, Shannon Thurmond, stood by me and stood up for me. When middle school was over, I considered her my only true friend. It was a life changing experience for me.
I never encountered another instance so traumatizing, but there would still be more hints of anti-Semitism or at least a serious lack of understanding in high school. Everyone has their stories. For me it was a classmate who was incessant trying to “save” me - trying to convince me that while my parents believed in the teachings of Judaism, I should realize they were wrong. One of my high school cheerleading teammates grew angry when I had to miss a football game because it was Yom Kippur- and made snide comments behind my back. It was those little comments over the next few years that made me start omitting my “Jewishness” from the conversation.
When I went off to college in Nashville - I didn't want anyone to know I was Jewish. Not that I was ashamed. I was still proud of my heritage and committed to being Jewish. . .I just didn't want to experience the comments anymore, and I guess I feared that I would be judged or not accepted because I was different.
Fast forward a few years though. . .when clarity began to set in.
My husband Adam was not Jewish when we met. But he wasn't any other religion either. . .and he was drawn to our faith, our traditions. . .and my family. With him I felt accepted and respected; safe and secure. I never asked him to convert to Judaism, but we did agreed before we married that our children would be raised Jewish.
Marrying a non-Jew can create some unusual situations: his family was unfamiliar with Judaism and I think a little unnerved by our union in the beginning. Genuine efforts to include me in the holiday gift giving have been humorous at times: the Santa doll dressed in blue for Chanukah was my favorite- Despite the faux pas- I couldn't have asked for a more wonderful extended family.
Today, Adam and I have 3 beautiful children. Each received a Hebrew name at birth. Ethan “Etan Zakai”, “Madeleine” Matana Rachel and “Peyton” Penina Elisheva- have brought great joy to us and new meaning to our lives.
With each life cycle event, we created new traditions and experiences, and each year I found myself feeling a little more connected as Jew.
But the true awakening for my Jewish spiritually ironically was death. The deaths of my grandparents, my sweet cousin Shari. . .and my beloved father - who I still miss terribly.
When my dad died - as anyone who has lost a parent knows- I was beyond devastated. I didn't get to say goodbye. I wanted so much to just feel his presence again, to have him in my life for just one more day. . .so I could make sure he knew how much I loved him.
As I struggled with my grief, the only place I could truly find comfort was in my Jewish home: right here at Temple Beth-El.
I would come to services, recite the prayers, touch the Torah, see the glow of the eternal light. Doing that, I somehow felt close to Dad. . .and I think for the first time I really felt close to G-d. It is almost funny because my father was not a spiritual man at all, in fact we used to joke because he would always fall asleep during services. But in death, he brought my Jewish spirituality to life. I'm forever grateful.
And with that awakening, I have opened my eyes to Jewish learning. There is so much to learn. As my son Ethan prepared for his Bar Mitzvah this past February, and as Adam and I studied about Judaism together in preparation for his conversion that same month, I learned so much about the teachings of our religion, the prayers, about our history as Jews through the ages.
As Jews, we have a beautiful meaningful religion centered on a belief in one G-d, with amazing traditions and strong values. We have a wonderful giving, caring Jewish community of which I am thankful to be an active participant. And my family is creating our own special “new” traditions to weave into the old.
Adam and I hope that our children are learning by our example to make their Jewish education a lifelong process; to be proud of their Jewish heritage and stand firm in their beliefs. . .and follow G-d's commandment as it says above me to “Love Thy Neighbor As Thyself.”
Our children have definitely taken this to heart. We know this when we look at our son Ethan's group of friends - they are fabulous boys with backgrounds as different as they come. There's Muneeb, a Muslim boy whose family comes from Pakistan; Pavan, a Hindu whose parents grew up and whose grandparents still live in India; Jeremy, an African American who spends his Sundays at a Southern Baptist Church in the eastside; Travis, very blonde and fair skinned and a Christian. And then there's Ethan- a white Jewish boy with deep Jewish and - and yes Christian family roots- stretching from Eastern Europe to Texas. These boys talk about their differences out of curiosity - because they want to learn about each other. They know they have differences, but they embrace each other as individuals; as friends. Not as blacks, whites, Christians, Muslims or Jews. It is a much different story than the one I went through in my 8th grade year. And it gives me great hope for the future.
To me, being a Jew means believing in G-d and observing our traditions; never being afraid to speak up for oneself or for others; and doing our part to make our world a little better by getting involved, being tolerant and understanding, sometimes forgiving, and always extending a helping hand.
Today, I am can say with conviction out loud that I am a Jew. . .and I'm proud of it.
I wish you all a very happy new year.
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