Who Am I As A Person of Faith and Practice?

Note: This was recently published as an Op-Ed in The Jewish Exponent. Given responses I received, for which I thank all who did reach out, I have decided to share it here. Let us all think of ourselves as people of faith and belief and practice according to the God in whom we believe and to whom we hold ourselves accountable, not to the subjective and often arbitrary standards others would like to impose.

Are you really Orthodox? But you are an advocate for LGBTQ Jews. You are active regarding women’s issues and rights. You’re President of the Cheltenham Area Multi-Faith Council. An Orthodox person would not do those things, right? Yes, this conversation is part of my life.

For several years about two decades ago, my family was in the Bar/Bat Mitzvah circuit for our three daughters. During that time, we went to the Bat Mitzvah of a dear friend’s daughter in Connecticut. The ceremony was beautiful and the shul experience was precisely as I remembered my own upbringing with complete davening, a full reading of the Torah portion and educated committed Jews coming together to pray and observe a celebratory moment in a family’s life. I came back and reported my experience to my mother. After I was sharing our experience, she asked how I identified myself, as we were clearly brought up as being part of the Halachically observant community (in a somewhat natural and relaxed manner, characteristic of the time) and this experience was in a Conservative synagogue, part of a movement that was no longer recognizable to me, even as a loyal alumna of United Synagogue Youth. I answered that as a Shomeret Mitzvot (one who observed the laws and dictates of daily Jewish living) who believed in the value of our historical experience and being part of the world and addressing its injustices and challenges, I would still consider myself a Conservadox-Orthoprax Jew (which would technically make me Conservative) but no one else did. Everyone considered me Orthodox given the optics of my level of Kashrut observance, the way I dress, honor Shabbat, etc. That’s funny, my mom replied, because I still consider myself an Orthodox Jew even though no one else does.

Who I was in the late sixties through the mid-seventies as a Shomeret Mitzvot Jew was not questioned. Whether we went to Conservative or Orthodox shuls, we were all observant, part of the world, concerned about social issues, and our level of adherence to ritual law did not preclude our being part of the larger world. In those days, one could find sound amplification systems in Orthodox shuls and Mechitzot (separate sitting for men and women) in Conservative identified synagogues. As a USY officer, I had to be completely observant and involved in full-time Jewish learning. Making special arrangements for classes missed in college due to days of observance, eating at the Hillel dining hall, explaining why I could or could not participate in various events, observing Shabbat, etc. were just part of who I was (notwithstanding a few rebellious years).

A few years ago, a friend told me my upbringing was “not frum (Jewishly observant)” because I did not go to Jewish Day School. Some Rabbis in the Orthodox world claim that I can’t be observant because I am an advocate for LGBTQ inclusion (and specifically so in the Orthodox Jewish world incidentally), I am active in Jewish learning and scholarship (as a woman), work in Interfaith Learning, Dialogue and Relations, teach about the responsibility for environmental sustainability, advocate for social justice causes directly informed by Halacha, and so on. I have had to justify myself continually throughout the years due to the fact that who I am defies the descriptions that are available today in our very color-blocked and limited understanding of what it means to be who we are. If we do not squarely fit into the proper box politically, socially, culturally or religiously we are considered persona not gratis. I have suffered both personally and professionally due to this in choosing the Philadelphia area as my home but have not wavered. Sending my children to the “wrong” Jewish Day schools, allowing them to socialize with boys and girls together and so on… criteria that were never part of my experience as a Halachically observant Jewish child.

So now we have Open Orthodoxy, Modern Orthodoxy, Centrist Orthodoxy, Traditional Orthodoxy, etc. and it is no longer enough to say one is a Jew, or identified with an ideological stance, but now one has to qualify what they mean with even more nuanced and often narrow descriptors. Trying to discern all of this can be exhausting not to mention frustrating.

All I know is we have brought our children up in a Shomer Mitzvot home with the full scope of Jewish ritual practices, observances and celebrations, Jewish education, camp, frequent experiences in Israel, and most important the foundational values and core standards of what it means to be a practicing Jew. So, you tell me, what kind of Jew do you think I am? Further, does it matter? After all, this is between Ribbonu shel Olam and me, is it not?

Troubling Times and Heart-Lifting Messages

Yesterday I was privileged to participate in a lovely spiritual and healing program with our Multi-Faith Council run by two wonderful women of spirituality and faith, Marge Sexton and Bonnie Ostroff. I just love these gatherings and all aspects of my work with multiple faith communities. I cherish how we can simultaneously celebrate what we share and have respect and regard for where we differ, understanding the value of both of these dynamics and their intersection. I am awed by how SILENT we can be to LISTEN (note the same letters make up each word) to each other’s words and hearts. I value more than I can say the safe space we all collectively create, whether it is a group of us taking a walk through beautiful and serene nature as we just did or in gatherings with religious scholars and thinkers from around the world and within a multitude of faiths. I learn so much from these experiences and they lift me up from the depths of concern and worry I have for our world and planet at present, with all of its noise and distraction.

This coming Sunday is Mother’s Day. Muslims are in the middle of Ramadan. Christians are in the period of time before their Pentecostal observance and Jews are counting the Omer, as we look towards Shavuot. This week was Memorial Day and Independence Day in Israel while we also acknowledge that it was a difficult time, the Naqba, for our Palestinian neighbors. Memorial Day will soon be here for Americans, and the list goes on. So many moments to stop and be thankful, be reflective, consider the sacrifices so many have made and may still be making, be mindful that one person’s moment of joy may and will simultaneously be another’s moment of sorrow, and just stop to be silent and really listen to the voices around us. It is then that I think we really learn so many important lessons.

I have shared before but it bears repeating a conversation between Oprah Winfrey and Scott Peck years ago where she was recounting a recurring dream that she has in which she is flying a bit off the ground and keeps seeing children. When she asks them “How are you?” the respond, “That is the wrong question. You should ask me what I was sent here to teach you today?” I just love that notion – it is at the heart of my daily opportunities for learning with so many others through the course of a given week, where I facilitate the process of looking at texts and considering their meaning. But the bonus, the real payment, is the many lessons I learn from those in the learning circles I have the honor of facilitating. Here are just a few lessons I carry with me to help me wade through the distracting and disruptive voices that are too loud and too worrisome in our world today. I have learned them and continue to consider them (thus all are voiced in present tense) daily as validation that there are so many wonderful people and lessons to learn from them. These lessons come from people of all faiths, backgrounds and ages. As we learn in Proverbs/Mishlei, Wisdom can be and is found on the street, that is to say, everywhere and at all times, if we are open to its voice.

From Nourah, I learn to always try to be the best person of faith and belief I can be and to never stop trying. From Neli, I learn that adult sarcasm and nuanced humor can quickly be picked up by a seven-year-old and repeated. From Fredda, Adel, Carol and so many others in my SAG group, I learn that no matter what challenges life throws at you, keep smiling, hold your head high and take pride in yourself. From Alison, Ella, and the rest of the Mishmar groups, I learn that figuring out the nuances of difficult texts and interpretations are the property of people of all ages, including eight year olds. From Jerry S., Bonnie, Esta, Ava, Jerry P., Susan, Esther, and Lisa, I learn that siblings are not necessarily only those you are related to; some we choose along the way and hold onto for life. From Larry and Lois and from Linda and Frank, I learn the beauty of love and marriage at all stages of life. From Tom, I learn that one can care as deeply for your own child as you do. From so many of my colleagues and friends – RL, LJS, CS, MK and others, I learn that we all have our challenges and yet we all function with so much grace and love for others. From too many to mention who are part of my MBIEE community I learn that aging can be and is fun – and vital, well into one’s 90’s and they all share a very positive attitude, which I love. From Rachel, I learn that we should always be prepared to make new friends in our lives, because amazing ones will come by. From so many grandparents of the PJDS community and SLLLs of Samuel A. Green House, I learn how important it is to pass our legacy stories on to the next generation. From Neima I learn how to think deeply and from Adel I learn how to smile and laugh broadly. From Kassia I learn to never, and I mean NEVER underestimate an almost two-year-old. From Yoella and Jeremy I learn that it is so fun to watch one’s children parent as they combine their own styles with what you hope you were able to teach them. From Aria, Bentzi, Lador, Sylvie, Eva, Sydney, Charlie, Yuval, Naomi, Alyssa, Esther, Jacob and all of the other wonderful Mishmar students from PJDS, I learn that it does not matter how old the people in your learning circle are – EVERYONE has lessons to teach each other. From Rachie and Talie I learn how to maintain calm in a storm and how to rejoice when you see your children following their passions in their careers. From Mimi and Liz, I learn how happy one is when one knows their child has found the love of their life and when those choices are so wonderful, you are proud of them and your children. From Brian, I learn that each person truly has to find their own way and be accepted for that. From Bethanie, I learn that flying around your living room in fairy wings can be a great form of discipline or just invoke fear in your children. From all of my Eshel family, I learn that we all love our families and children and appreciate the foundational teachings of our faith in acceptance of each other just the way G-d chose to fashion us. From my CAMC friends and all of those I work with in Interfaith work, I learn how remarkably similar our foundational principles are. From Steve, I very recently learned that we are all “in the middle of our story.” From my amazing husband, Ken, I learn that love and a positive relationship do not hurt or harm, but help and validate every day.

These are just a few of the hundreds of lessons and people I carry in my heart daily. I love you all for the lessons you have and continue to teach me and share with all those around you. May we all value being SILENT and LISTEN for those lessons. Doing so definitely gives us the strength, the Hizzuk, we need to go forth and continue to be better and do better in spite of what may be happening around us. Happy Celebrations and Observances to all.