The Blood That Flows Through My Veins

The Angel of Death was present what seemed like more often than not in the weeks leading up to my departure for Israel. In the span of three weeks, I lost three people that I loved and cared for very much. Still, months later, not a day passes that I don’t think about them. I think of how much I miss them. I think of how I am a better person because each of them was in my life.

I want to slowly share glimpses into the impact that each of these three men, two my professors and the other my grandfather, had on my life and religiosity. It has taken me time to even begin to be able to write about them, because at first, the pain was just too fresh. My experiences with my professors are related to the way my religious identity has transformed over the past few years. My grandfather, on the other hand, is related to the part of me that has remained consistent. In his life and in his death, he showed me that there is a part of me that remains despite all the changes. It seems appropriate for me to share some of my moments with my grandfather first, because he reminds me that I there is a spark within me that remains unchanged.

My grandfather was the one person in my family who didn’t know that I converted to Judaism or even thought about converting to Judaism. When I went from thinking about conversion to actually being in the process of converting, I talked to my mom about how we should tell my grandfather, her father, that I was no longer a practicing Catholic and was going to be Jewish. My mom felt that he would not be able to understand what it meant for me to be converting. He, like the rest of my family, had never met a Jew. I said that I wouldn’t hide it, but I also would not have a formal, sit-down conversation with him. My religion never came up in the visits I had with him, so it was left unsaid. In the moments following his death, one of the first things I thought to myself was, “Now, he knows.”

The Catholic services that followed his death were something I wasn’t quite ready to face. In the moments leading up to his death, there was no denying the strong Catholic faith that lived within him. In his last few days, his hospital room was filled with prayers and rosaries. I was there as our family priest came to give him the Sacrament of the Anointing of the Sick. I helped my cousin prepare the Divine Chaplet that was prayed immediately following his death by his bedside. And in the moments of his lasts breaths, I stood by his bed holding him as he held his rosary. I stared down at his hands gently carrying a crucifix attached to beads that had been rubbed endlessly as he prayed.

Part of me felt the guilt, that I may always carry, about leaving a beautiful tradition that has been with my family and in my culture for generations. How did I walk away from what he held so dear even in his last moments on earth? But the other part of me, the part of me that I knew he would be proud of, realized that there is still continuity among the rapture. It is the faith, commitment and love that he had running through his veins that continues in me. It is the passion and fervor that I saw him living every day for his family, community, and G-d that has been passed down to me, will continue to live within me and will hopefully continue on in my children, their children and their children’s children, with the help of Hashem. I may have gone down another path. I may have a different way of living it out, but it is the same fire within us both.

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My First Christmas… as a Jew

Merry Christmas to all those who are celebrating, including my much missed family!

Spending this Christmas in Israel was something I looked forward to since last Christmas. Last Christmas went really well, but I knew that this one would be even harder as a Jew. I had already distanced myself from the holiday but of course, celebrated with family. I knew this Christmas would put everyone on edge. My family already pays special attention to what I eat and don’t eat, wear and don’t wear and pray and don’t pray. The truth is, no matter how hard I try, as I distance myself from Christmas and other Christian experiences I distance myself from my family. I knew a Christmas away from family would be sad, but I knew it would be also be less stressful and comforting to be surrounded by so many other Jews in Israel.

Now that it is Christmas, I just don’t know if being away is as great as I thought it would be. I wish I was watching my nephews open there presents. I wish I was eating dinner with my family. I actually wish there were lights up on houses and Christmas trees in windows. It just doesn’t feel like Christmas and after having Christmas be the biggest day of the year for all of my life, it is sad.

Even though I most certainly miss Christmas and my family celebrating Christmas, I decided I needed to do something special in my own way. I have never had a “traditional” American Jewish December 25th. My December 25th is going to consist of a Chinese dinner and a random movie. I am excited for the new experience and celebrating what in my mind is a very Jewish, American social custom.

This is part of what going down “another path” means, and even though it is tough, I am even more committed to it now than I was before.

Fasting in Jerusalem- Tenth of Tevet 5773

Today is the tenth of Tevet. I posted my reflections on this day last year.

For some reason, I have always felt a connection to fast days. Even before identifying as Jewish, the first days of the Jewish calendar that observed were fast days.  I don’t exactly know why I feel such a strong connection to them, but an idea I have is that because fasts mark times that were hard for our people. Not only in Judaism, but in every religion. It is a way of mourning during our year. We don’t just remember the past, but we recognize that the wounds are fresh. Time is thrown out the window, and we sit with the communities before us who felt pain and sorrow. This is really the reason I love all holidays, but there is still something special in fasts. I think the lack of extravagance in a fast makes me more apt to reflect more.

With every holiday, I connect myself with the history. This year, being in Jerusalem for a fast about the siege of Jerusalem made it harder to find that connection. It sounds strange that being in the city would challenge me more than help me, but it did. It felt strange mourning over Jerusalem when I was clearly in the modern, Jewish city going about my day. Why mourn when I know how the story is now? I was free to practice my religion in this city along with many, many other Jews.

As the day goes on, I knew there was a way I still related to the biblical story. Maybe Jerusalem is an autonomous Jewish city now, but it is sadly an exceptional instance in history. Although we are free here, there is still a fragility. We need to remember and connect to this day, even in Jerusalem, because it can so easily happen again. If we don’t make a point of mourning the loss that our people had, we risk forgetting how precious, sacred and fragile Jerusalem is for us. It is important to actively remember the day, take action by fasting on the day, in order to inspire action to protect our current Home.

May everyone fasting have a safe and meaningful fast.

The dreams that were never meant to be

Life in Israel has been filled with unexpected ups and downs, but even on the most frustrating days, I am still amazed that I am here. I am freshly out of undergrad and in my early 20s. There are various points throughout one’s life that reflection on where one has been and questioning what is ahead is practically built in, and this point in my life is one of them. It is a moment of great transition, which is fragile but full of possibility.

At this moment, I look at where I am and can’t help but be kind of baffled about how I got here. Ten years ago, I would have thought that a Christian girl who converted to Judaism moved to Israel and had a BA in Religious Studies was just not possible, not just for me but for anyone! I was unaware that Judaism was a religion. I didn’t know that people live across the world from their family. I had no clue that someone could have a degree in something that wasn’t a job (e.g. teacher, doctor, lawyer, and engineer).

I love my life now. I wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world. This is the life I was created to live. And yet, I think of the life I dreamed of growing up and living when I was young(er).

There are so many dreams that changed. One of the first things I mourned the loss of when I knew Christianity was no longer mine was the wedding day I always thought I would have. I think I first planned my wedding when I was six. I had colors for bridesmaid dresses, drew pictures of what my dress would look like and had a church picked out. I now know how different my wedding will look from the one I imagined when I was six and from the one my parents, sister and rest of my family had and imagined for me. Now, even when I try really hard, I can’t imagine myself walking down a church aisle. It is almost like my dreams were just that, fuzzy dreams in the middle of the night that were just a distant, fragmented memory by morning. Now, I couldn’t be happier to dream of my Jewish wedding.

I have had time to adjust to the dramatic changes in my dreams, and they were a slow evolution for me. I slowly gained clarity on who I was and the next baby step in my life after each move. My parents (and the rest of my family) didn’t have that benefit. They just had the image of their daughter’s baptismal gown, which they kept safely tucked away, being passed on to her children for their Baptisms. In what felt like overnight, that dream was gone, and the image is getting fuzzy.  It is hard for them. I know that and pray for our patience.

I know that my life and future are radically different from where I thought they would be, but I know that I couldn’t possibly live it differently.  At each step, it was hard to leave the path that was already beaten and had been imagined, but each time there came a point where staying on the path, untrue to who I was, become a more painful thought than the fear of stepping onto my own, destined path.

Those dreams from my childhood were also of a great life but were not meant to be live out, not by me. I don’t know what is next, but I know that this other, unexpected path is my path.

Hag Hodayah Sameach! My Thanksgiving of Firsts.

Happy Thanksgiving! 🙂

This Thanksgiving is my…

first Thanksgiving in Israel.

first Thanksgiving away from my mom.

first Thanksgiving with Jews.

first kosher (non-dairy) Thanksgiving.

first Thanksgiving spent working.

Thanksgiving has always been my favorite holiday, not only because of the food but because of the overall spirit of family and joy. Now that I have to add Jewish holidays into the mix, I am not quite sure if it is still my favorite but no doubt that it is up there. I love the food, the weather, the family, the feeling of gratitude, and the football. My mom always hosts Thanksgiving and this year was no exception. The cousins, aunts and uncles who usually attend were all there. There were about 45 family members total, but still some people were missing this year, including my grandfather who passed away at the end of the summer. I did miss seeing my family, but the excitement and novelty of Thanksgiving in Israel was enough to keep me from being homesick.

On Thursday, Thanksgiving day, I had to come into work. It was strange to not have Thanksgiving off, but luckily it was a short and slow day. I spent the majority of my time sitting in the office watching Thanksgiving sitcom specials on Netflix. I did multiple episodes of How I Met Your Mother, King of the Hill, Everybody Loves Raymond, Frasier and even an episode of Rugrats to bring back childhood memories. That evening I went to eat Thanksgiving Dinner along with other students in my program at the Deputy Ambassador’s house. It was great to see friends from my program, but the event felt much more like any other dinner rather than Thanksgiving.  The formality of the evening just didn’t make it feel like Thanksgiving. I have to admit that after my excitement for the event, I was let down from the lack of Thanksgiving cheer.

On Friday, my adviser was hosting Thanksgiving at her home. She was having 35 people over for dinner a Thanksgiving themed Shabbat dinner. As soon as I walked in the home, it smelled, looked and felt like Thanksgiving. The food was all traditional but kosher. Everything was so delicious that I didn’t notice there wasn’t butter in my mashed potatoes or dairy milk in my cornbread. I didn’t know any of the guests before the dinner except for my adviser and her husband. The guest list was very eclectic, and I enjoyed everyone’s company. There were only three people from the U.S. (Minnesota, California, and Texas). Other countries represented at the dinner were South Africa, Ethiopia, China, Germany, Argentina, England, Holland and Israel. The mix of languages at the table was inspiring.   That dinner felt like Thanksgiving.  All the traditional Thanksgiving foods were there, including pumpkin pie, cranberry sauce, and cornbread, but more importantly, her house filled with about 35 of her friends all smiling and laughing together.

Even though my Thanksgiving ended up being a day late and being shared with people I had never met before, it was still a real Thanksgiving filled with love and thanks. I am grateful for the chance to experience such wonderful holiday feelings so far from my family.

I know Christmas will be harder, but at least I know holidays away from family are possible.

Living For Myself, But Not Living Selfishly

Converting to Judaism is the most selfish thing I have ever done. Moving to Israel is a pretty close second. I struggle with the guilt I feel over my selfish decisions most days. I make decisions based on pleasing people more often than I should, but the few decision I have made in my life that have been for myself have all been major life decisions that have effected those around me, most importantly my family.

One of the hardest things I have ever done was telling my parents that I wanted to convert to Judaism. My sister and brother-in-law already knew. My best friend already knew. A few other friends and cousins knew. The only people left to tell, whose response I cared about, were my parents. To be honest, telling them was much more than one conversation. It was a series of conversations over a few years. They knew I was interested in Judaism, Jews, Hebrew and Israel, but they never wanted to believe that it was more than a passing fascination. My parents saw my passion as nothing more than a naïve child mystified by what was in front of her. This is the way they view most of my undertakings. To be fair, it is true that the things I am most passionate about were inspired by my natural curiosity and excitement to encounter and take hold of what intrigued and baffled me. At the same time, there is a difference between wanting to sky dive or even ride a roller coaster, both of which are things I would never have the guts to do, and making major life decisions. I am not haphazard or reckless by nature. Instead, my decisions are made with deliberation, struggle and care, which almost makes it worse because then I am selfish.

I don’t make decisions on a whim without thinking of the consequences to myself or those around me. I carefully think out the implications and aftermath of my decisions, which makes deciding what to eat for dinner a hassle. With large decisions, I know that others will be affected. I know that often I am hurting someone, and yet, I do it. I decide that my wants are greater than someone else’s wants. I make a selfish decision knowing that I am being selfish. I struggle with this. I love the decisions I have made, but I hate the way it has affected other. I often fantasize about how I would live my life if I lived in a protective bubble. Not a bubble that protected me from my decisions, but a way that my family was protected from feeling any impact from my decisions. How differently would I live?

My sister and brother-in-law, my bearers of sanity, talk me back to reality. They remind me that it is okay to make decisions based on what I want. I might sound silly, but it is something I need to be told. It just doesn’t seem right in a Mexican family. Family comes first- always. With the change of times, this is also changing. My generation is really the first to step outside of this box. Family is still of utmost importance, but we learn to redefine what family means and what providing for the family means. It is in my generation that children are beginning to educate themselves and move outside of the 30 mile radius that is the hub of our extended family. As this shift takes place, the generations before us, my parents, their siblings and aunts and uncles, struggle with the shifting priorities. It feels like a true loss of the family unit. I mourn this loss a bit stronger than some of my cousins. I feel myself letting down not only my parents and the generations before them but also the generations to come that will have very different assumptions and experiences of familyhood than I did.

I have created a Hispanic parent’s worst nightmare. My decisions go beyond myself. My family will not be the family that my parents ever envisioned. I live further away than my parents would like. I am pursuing a profession that makes little to no sense to my parents. I am practicing and believing in a completely different religious system than my parents. I am going against tradition in almost every imaginable way, and it hurts us both.

Even though there is pain, I continue to grow. I continue to learn. I continue to live. My sister is right in saying that my decisions are just that- mine. She wants me to claim my decisions as selfish and embrace the selfishness as a badge of honor. That has worked well to inspire her to live a happy, healthy life for herself, but I am different and can’t quite do that. Selfish will always have a negative connotation for me. Instead, I remind myself that taking care of myself and living my life my way is not selfish. Oscar Wilde has a beautiful quote that has become my mantra in times of feeling guilt for my “selfish” decisions.

“Selfishness is not living as one wishes to live, it is asking others to live as one wishes to live”

This quote has become increasingly meaningful after my move to Israel and as I try and plan what is next. I already try to live my life in such a way that I don’t impose myself on others, but this quote goes beyond that idea by expressing that it is not just okay but necessary to dictate yourself. I can’t make other people see decisions this way, because that would be against the principle itself. All I can do is continue to focus on what is important to me, ask myself how I want to live my life, and live accordingly.