“It’s Not Complicated”

Gosh it’s been a long time since I blogged! Those Bar Mitzvot certainly take it out of you. My eldest’s Bar Miztvah was the best day of my life. I don’t remember much about our wedding, thanks to the very efficient Venue Manager who kept myself and The Husband supplied with spirits for the whole day. Giving birth was amazing but painful and exhausting. My Bat Mitzvah (well, both of them!) was – well, a long long time ago. I remember enjoying them both but I don’t remember much about them.

But my eldest’s Bar Mitzvah was perfect. He was wonderful, and read his Parsha beautifully and confidently. Friends and relatives came from all over the country and even from abroad, and it was so good to catch up. The Shul catering committee provided a wonderful buffet, and food (mostly cake!) brought by our kind loved ones was amazing. The entire Shul congregation were welcoming, friendly, helpful and generally just wonderful, especially the wardens and especially to those of our extended family who aren’t Jewish themselves and so are unfamiliar with the setup of the Shabbat Morning Service.

Life has since returned to what passes for normal in our house. Summer holidays came and went and were great, including the Imp Club National camping weekend and a week at the seaside at Haven in Burnham-on-Sea (highly recommended if you have children – oh and do check out the Bakelite Museum! It’s amazing:-). New term has started, with the inevitable chaos and paperwork (and money flowing toward school like water – I’m sure we didn’t have this many school trips when I was at school!) My colitis went into remission with the advent of the Paleo diet, and has since come out of remission, but I’m wrangling it back into the cupboard. We’ve just this week started fostering abandoned kittens for a local cat charity, and somehow in between all of that, I do a full time job. No housework you understand – well, something has to give.

But sometime, somehow, somewhere, I found religion. That sounds as if I’d had it once and lost it, but that’s not the case – there was no crisis of faith. For a long time I’ve known what I believe about the world around me. I have very well defined spiritual beliefs. I have a moral code that I try my best to adhere to. I’m on a constant (in my darker moods, a constantly failing!) quest for self-improvement, and I’m always trying to dig deeper into the nuances of what I believe and what the best way is to cope with the various situations I find myself in.

For some time I’ve felt conflicted about how drawn I am to Judaism. When I was younger, it was just who I was, something that I did a few times a year. When I was a teenager, it was something that made me different to most of the people around me, which I quite liked, but the actual religious observance, being religious, wasn’t cool. During my explorations into spirituality starting in my late teens, I developed a dislike of dogmatic religious observance, mostly because of how it affects others. There were a lot of people around me who felt the same.

But recently, I’ve had the opportunity to discuss with a great many people, Rabbis, other Jews, learned and wise people of all religions, spiritual beliefs and none, what they actually believe (and also, I have to say,  I’ve read up on some great resources on the Internet) . This is not the same as observance. Last week, at Rosh Hashana, I listened to a student Rabbi give an inspiring and thought provoking sermon on what he actually believed – which owed a lot more to the Gaia principle than to the concept of some old bloke with a beard up in the sky somewhere, looking down on us.

I’ve noticed over the years of being what I thought of as a cultural Jew, and living with a Pagan, that the similarities between the faiths were greater than the differences. The underlying tenets are pretty much the same, although the history and myth cycle are very different. Sometimes there are startling similarities between the observances.

I am really happy and comfortable celebrating the Pagan Wheel of the Year – it seems appropriate for me, living in Britain with the seasonal cycles. But I am also a Jew. I am a British Jew. And if I deny myself the opportunity to worship in the traditional Jewish fashion, I find something essential missing from my life.

I don’t go to every service every week. I try to get to a Shabbat service once a fortnight or so, and to most of the festivals. My life is not set up to physically get to the Synagogue more often than that, otherwise I would go more often. But when I do go, I enjoy it so much. It’s like a meditation to me (I meditate sometimes, and also do yoga, and it’s a similar kind of feeling). I definitely feel that I connect with something – whether it’s my own subconscious/unconscious/higher self, the global community of Jews all praying at similar times, or the Jewish God with a long white beard sitting on a cloud, I do not know and I do not care. I feel recharged and empowered. And happy.

I’ve been closely examining the words of the prayers and meditations in the services, and there are very few places where I feel my beliefs don’t at least broadly align with the words I’m saying. So attending a service and saying the ritual words enables me to pray, to think about my spiritual attitudes, to feel the gratitude and thankfulness that might otherwise pass me by in this busy and often stressed world.

I wish my Hebrew was better. I wish I knew more about the traditional prayers and how and when to use them. I wish I could get to Shul more often and also do more of the social stuff in the wider community. I wish I knew more about the Mitzvot and the traditions. I wish I was in a position to hang out with the radical Jewish thinkers of the day (probably around Leo Baeck college:-) Actually Leo Baeck is running some interesting looking evening courses that I would love to attend, but I live a bit too far away to attend in person. I want to say the Shema twice every day and observe Havdallah and put a mezuzzah on my front door.

I draw the line at some things. I hate wearing hats, so the idea of a headscarf or a sheitl (wig) is a nightmare. I have enough trouble keeping my pink feminist kippah (skullcap) on for the whole of a service! I’m all for gender equality in the services, I have a tallit (prayershawl), I’ve had a Bat Mitzvah, taken various parts of various services. But I can’t wear tefillin. I do wear jeans and leggings and tshirts, (although recently I’ve noticed that I feel increasingly uncomfortable wearing anything that shows cleavage, knees, or elbows and I’m not sure that’s my age!). I don’t keep Kosher and never will. I use my laptop and the TV and car on Shabbat and High Holy days, although I try to keep mundane work to a minimum and I won’t do my paid job on those days. And – I’m married to a Pagan.

This is my path. This is who I am. I will not impose my beliefs on anyone else. I don’t think anyone else *should* do things my way. But – I am a Jew. A British Reform Jew. An observant, practising, religious British Reform Jew. It’s time to come out of the closet, or ark, or wherever I’ve been hiding, to stop being ashamed of what I believe and how I choose to observe that, to disregard the fact that in this day and age it’s generally regarded as being weird and uncool by many of my friends/colleagues/peers and to just get on with being who I really am. Time to change my religious relationship from ‘It’s complicated’ to ‘In a religion’.

I don’t know how to be Jewish

History is Always Complicated

I was born into a UK Liberal Jewish family. At the time, my Shul was a member of ULPS (United Liberal and Progressive Synagogues), an organisation now known as Liberal Judaism. I think I had a baby blessing – I can’t actually remember:-) I remember going to Shul in North London now and then when I was very young, usually for Passover. The Communal Seder meal has a smell and taste that’s been the same in all the Shuls that I’ve attended:-) Boiled eggs, salt water, salmon of some kind, often cold, and of course matzos.

When I was four, we moved to South Wales, and started attending the ‘local’ Reform Shul in Cardiff – only 15 miles away. I had my Bat Mizvah at Cardiff, and then did it all over again in London in the Liberal Shul because that’s where most of our Jewish family lived.

I went to Cheder, or Jewish Religion school, every week from the age of about three until thirteen. Ten years. And I learned a lot – working backwards, I learned my Parshah (specific reading from the Torah scrolls, handwritten in Hebrew and without vowels). Mine was the bit of Genesis just after Abraham was supposed to sacrifice Isaac and ended up sacrificing a ram instead. It gave instructions on what to do with the dead ram in order to sacrifice it properly – so basically, a recipe for a burnt offering.

I learned about life in the Shtetl (the Jewish towns or villages and sometimes ghettos in Central and Eastern Europe). I learned about the creation of the State of Israel. I learned about the stories in the Torah. I learned Hebrew, and some of the more common prayers in the services. I learned about the Kosher laws, and also learned why in my household, we didn’t keep Kosher.

But at no point did I learn about the daily requirements of Judaism, especially those which are not performed in the community. Nor about how the prayerbook works or how the services work. I didn’t learn the why behind each of the prayers, or about the commentators on the Torah.

My practice when I was young consisted of going to Shul once or twice a week until I was 13 and had my Bat Mitzvah, going to the services for the High Holy days, not eating bread at Passover, and lighting the candles at Chanukah. We always lit the candles and said the blessings on Friday night, but never celebrated Havdallah.

I fell away from Judaism, as many young people fall away from religion, and then when I was nearing 30, on the spur of the moment I dragged the Husband to Israel for a touring holiday. Around the same time, I found the local Shul, which was another Reform Shul in Kent, and became a member there. I attended Friday night services, occasionally Saturday morning services, Festival services, and social events. I was a member of the committee for some years. But still the gaps in my education remained, and I wasn’t really very aware that they existed.

And My Family Is Even More Complicated!

My parents were both Jewish. My father was brought up Christian – his maternal Grandmother was Jewish from Frankfurt, but converted to Christianity to marry. However, when my father and mother got married, he decided to convert to Judaism. His sister, my aunt, married my mother’s brother, my uncle, and she also converted to Judaism. I have two Jewish cousins, and a positive rainbow of other persuasions in my family – Methodism by marriage, Welsh Baptist, Salvation Army, Dawkins-loving Atheists.

Even though The Husband is a (Methodist-born) Pagan, we had established early on that any children we had would be brought up Jewish until they were old enough to decide their own spiritual or religious paths. I’m very lucky that The Husband is fascinated by all religion and completely accepting of my Judaism and that of the children. I’m even luckier that every community we’ve been involved with has welcomed him as part of the community without judgement and without any pressure on him to convert – even though he can’t technically become a member of a Synagogue.

So when the children arrived, they all had baby blessings. They all attended Cheder, and actually still do. Eldest is coming up to Bar Mitzvah age and now attends most Shabbat morning services with me, and usually has a small part in the service. The younger two come to festivals, social gatherings and Family services. We have Shabbat Evening meal at Grandma’s (my own Jewish Mother), and light the candles, drink the wine, eat the er, challah substitute which is often croissants or brioche.

To all intents and purposes we look like a typical Reform Jewish family – well, if there is such a thing! Of course we teach our children that no one way is the only right way, that Judaism is their culture, heritage and history as well as their religion, and we also teach them about what Daddy believes. Luckily for us, the curriculum on Comparative Religion is pretty excellent – they know a lot more about some other religions than we do.

If Not Now, When?

And recently I’ve been feeling that this is not enough.

I’ve been reading some Jewish blogs and various articles, mostly Reform although that does have a slightly different meaning in the US. I’ve read about students converting, and about people learning to be Rabbis. They talk about Mitzvot, and observance and how these things seem to give structure and meaning to their lives.

There are a great many services in the Siddur – but I get confused reading through them. Some are for communities, some for families, some for solo observance. I can’t tell which one I’m supposed to do when. I don’t have a list of the appropriate blessings for the various events in our lives. I only knew there was a blessing to put on the Tallit when I saw someone else saying it before he put his on. I know that one, the Shabbat blessings and Shechekiyanu, and that’s all.

I have looked up the Reform Jewish website but there’s nothing really on there about such things. Most Reform Jews I know are observant to the same degree as me, or maybe they don’t talk about what they do. In my circle it seems somehow uncool, untrendy, to be observant.

No-one ever taught me any of the rules. Somewhere, between Fiddler on the Roof (my great-grandparents did indeed come over to the UK from Russia, from towns and villages very similar to that depicted in the film, with lives and practices very similar too), and 2014, something was lost. Something that it seems, everyone else either knows and assumes I know too, or doesn’t care about.

Maybe It Really Is Hip To Be Square

From what I have read, from sources varying from Chabad.org to the Coffee Shop Rabbi and a good many places in between, I have realised I would like to know more. I’m very careful about dogma – I’m not one for doing something just because someone said I should, or because someone else says HaShem  might want me to. (HaShem means The Name and is a respectful way to write G-d, since it’s not polite to use His name unless we’re actually praying  – I guess I know some things then!) I cannot believe that HaShem cares right now if I wear wool with linen or eat bacon for breakfast. If HaShem is anything like my impressions of er, Them, They will care that my clothes are not made by slave labour, and that the origin of the bacon is a happy, outdoor reared pig.

But I want to know more. I think it’s entirely appropriate to say Sheckekiyanu when I wake up, purely because I am grateful to wake up at all, and for the new day. Although I will probably never learn a consistent way to spell it in English:-) And if I wake up feeling awful, which I sometimes do, it might just help me to remember that not all days are bad, and I still have many blessings in my life.

I’m not saying for a single second that I could go from zero to Tevye and Golde overnight – nor would I want to. I am not an Orthodox Jew, and have no desire to be one. But I do want to know what it is, as a Reform Jew, I might be expected to do – so I can make my own choices what and how to observe, rather than falling into a pattern through ignorance.

I believe one of the main strengths of Judaism is that each Jew has their own relationship with HaShem. Yes there are Rabbis, wise, learned, available to give guidance, but I know I have my own relationship with G-d. That relationship does not have to go through anyone else. I yell, and He listens. One day, He might even answer:-) So I say to You, G-d, what do I do now? Where should I go, read, look, discuss, learn? What do I do?

And let’s see what answer pops out of the blue into my inbox:-)

Paleo Oat Cakes

In our mixed up, muddled up family, we are great admirers, and lethargic, well-intentioned followers, of the Paleo way of life – both eating and exercise. Yesterday we walked up a near vertical hill, which I’m sure our Paleo ancestors would have done once in a while, and then we trampled through both Paleo and Passover laws with the free hot cross buns we were given as a reward for reaching the top thanks to the Cymdeithas Twmbarlwm Society. Moving on, here is a vaguely Paleo friendly recipe for something a bit like a cross between a cake, a flapjack and a biscuit. It’s also reasonably lowish carb, more so than most of the treats it replaces in our house.

8oz oats (the kind you make porridge with. I’ve never figured out the difference between porridge oats and rolled oats, probably best not to use instant porridge mix)
4oz ground almonds (replacing this with dessicated coconut just to see what happens, is on our To Do list)
2 tablespoons honey
8oz block butter
Some raspberries – about 2oz?

1) Melt the butter over a low light or in short bursts in the microwave
2) Once the butter is melted, add the honey and mix well
3) Mix the oats and almonds together
4) Add the honey and butter mixture to the oats and almonds and mix very well
5) Add the raspberries to the mix and mix well
6) Put into silicone fairy cake cases and cook in the oven at 200 celcius for 12 minutes. If they don’t look done after 12 minutes, keep checking a minute at a time and take them out just when the tips are starting to burn slightly

If you can, leave them until they are cold to eat – they crumble a little bit less that way. But either way, you will probably be eating them with a teaspoon out of the cake case. They are strangely and compellingly delicious.