Forgiving

Rosh Hashanah is only about a week away, and the approaching High Holy Days bring about responsibility to reflect on actions and emotions of the past year in order to ask those around us for forgiveness. It is only through reaching out to those around us that we can go before Hashem and ask for mercy and forgiveness. With so much concentration on the act of asking for forgiveness it is easy to forget the other half of our job- forgiving.

Right now, I am angry, hurt and bitter. The past few weeks have been a roller coaster of emotions, and I have just been informed of the third death in the past month of someone I loved. As I just began to feel some stability within me, I now feel surrounded by death.

It is hard to try and make sense of the loss and hurt, especially while being overwhelmed by many other stresses and blessings in my life. With Rosh Hashanah so close, I feel that there is a lesson here for me. I need to forgive. I should not only forgiving those family members and friends who have hurt me but also Hashem. I feel anger towards Hashem, mostly because I am frustrated by my lack of understanding. At the same time I am aware that just as I want to stand before those in my life and Hashem and be forgiven, I need to forgive those who have hurt me, including Hashem.

I have no time between now and the Holy Days to go through stages of grief and/or reasonably come to a state of forgiveness, yet I must forgive sincerely. It is hard because I want to be angry. I remind myself that there is a reason that the Mourner’s Kaddish, a prayer not referring to death but Hashem’s sovereignty, is said after a death. It reminds us that despite death, despite hurt, anger, loss and fear Hashem is in the world and in control. Rosh Hashanah reminds us of the same thing. I am thankful for this helpful reminder in the liturgical year, especially so close to such significant personal loss.

A Jew is a Jew is a Jew… Right?

I converted in Conservative Judaism, and while I am not ashamed, my first response to the question of my religion is just Jewish. I don’t say “a Jew by choice” or ” a Conservative Jew,” but  just that I am “a Jew.” I don’t do this because I am trying to hide who I am or because I want to trick someone into believing something else. I do it because in my mind a Jew is a Jew is a Jew.

Earlier this week, a dear friend of mine finished his conversion to Orthodox Judaism. I have known him a year, and we have both been very supportive of each other throughout the process of the others conversion, even though we live on separate sides of the world and have chosen two different branches of Judaism. We have connected many times and shared stories and questions that were very similar.  We had very similar experiences despite being in different countries, of different genders and choosing different paths. Throughout our conversion processes, it was our interactions that further reinforced the idea that “a Jew is a Jew is a Jew.” Today, he sent me some pictures of the celebration he had with some close friends after his mikveh. Looking at the pictures made me feel like I was looking at a totally different world. The sight of the black hats and the absence of women in the pictures were both alienating images. I knew the pictures were of Jews and that they were beautiful images but it wasn’t a feeling of connection. I believe that his Judaism is also my Judaism. We share the same religion, but the images themselves were not a point of deep religious connection. My connection to the images did not come naturally, but only when I stopped and told myself that the pictures were of Jews celebrating a Jewish event and I also was Jewish.  As hard as I tried, I could not imagine myself in the room that was pictured. It was foreign.

Right now, I am attending an orientation for the program I will be doing next year in Israel, and everyone in my cohort is a Jew. We all practice differently and some would consider themselves more or less religious than others. I consider myself fairly religious. I am quick to say that my practices do not reflect Orthodox Judaism but none the less are pretty traditional in many ways. This week, both the pictures from my friend and the orientation taught me that maybe that isn’t as true as I thought.

In a room full of Jews (Orthodox, Conservadox, Conservative, Reform, secular, and other), I quickly found my niche in the group with the less religious Jews. Despite ordering the kosher meal and dressing tznius (I sometimes don’t cover my elbows, but did the entire orientation), my place of comfort and friendship in the group was not even among the other Conservative Jews.

This week is making me step back and start the process of thinking about where I really find comfort and connection to others in the larger Jewish picture. I am sure that my place will continue to be carved out when I move to Israel and am surround by even more Jews. I look forward to the process of staying true to what I have learned, who I am becoming and  finding my community within the community.