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Category: Religion

Funny, you don't look Jewish

Let's face it: Many people think Jews have a certain look: white skin, a certain nose, hard-to-tame curly hair, etc.

That's probably because a lot of people may only know Ashkenazic Jews, the most famous among them folks like Mel Brooks, Barbra Streisand and of course Ehud Olmert, prime minister of Israel.

I'll admit, that was my limited conception of Jews, too, up until several months ago when I started my studies. Here's what I have since learned:

Of the roughly 6 million Jews in the United States, 1.2 million are ethnically and racially diverse. They include African-American, Asian-American, Latino, Sephardic, Middle Eastern and mixed-race, according to the authors of "In Every Tongue: The Racial and Ethnic Diversity of the Jewish People."

But racial diversity is not the norm at many congregations.

In the article, "Funny, You Don't Look Jewish", Aliza Hausman, a first-generation Dominican-American who converted to Judaism as an adult, talks about the constant stares she gets at her temple because she doesn't look like everyone else. She accepts, for now, this unfortunate reality while at the same chastising them all for being rude.

Odd, but I found myself unwilling to rally around her point. Sure, I get stares when I walk into my temple in West Bloomfield on Fridays; usually it feels like a spotlight follows me all the way to my seat. And yes, I realized rather quickly that my jet straight hair and teeny eyes make it impossible for me to ever blend in.

But unlike some, I'm glad that I don't. If I did, few would know I was an outsider coming in. No one would recognize the new-Jew or Jew-to-be among them, no one's curiosity would be piqued and no one would ask the sometimes silly and stumbling questions about why I decided to convert. In other words, no one would be confronted, challenged or questioned - including myself - and no one would be forced, however awkwardly, to learn something.

When I was 12, all I wanted was to fit in. But over the years, I've learned there's an advantage, an opportuntity even, in looking different. In this case, being a minority within a minority community affords me many chances to teach others about what it's like to embrace two margin identities, to lend my own cultural views to discussions, and hopefully infuse a new dimension to a temple community that is not used to racial diversity in religious life.

Hausman is right about one thing: As more converts from different backgrounds join the tribe, it may change how non-Jews look at Judaism and Jewry. I think just as importantly it will dislodge some Jews - for better or worse - from their comfort zone to reflect on what it means to be Jewish.

Category: Religion

FAQs on all things Jewish

I have those moments every now and then when a question about Judaism pops into my head and I have to know the answer right quick. For example:

-When is Rosh Hashanah this year? (A: Sept. 29-30)

-How should I refer to G-d in writing? (A: Just as I did right then.)

-Which crustacean delights are kosher? (A: None of them; all shellfish are forbidden. Dagnabbit.)

An online resource, Judaism 101, has proved quite useful in these moments. It's the quick-hit guide to the most asked questions on all things Jewish: holidays, Hebrew, etc., and it even contains A Gentile's Guide to the Jewish Holidays.

Category: Religion

(Jewish?) guilt on Shabbes

A funny thing happened on the way to my rabbi's recently.

It was a Saturday afternoon and I had my first appointment with her to discuss my yearlong conversion. To get to her office, I had to enter a rear door of the temple building and then walk through the room where members in their pressed finest were nibbling on cake and schmoozing with the rabbis and cantors. The Shabbat morning service had just apparently let out.

And I was feeling guilty.

You see, I missed the Friday evening service the night before (explanatory aside: The Jewish Sabbath begins on Friday night and runs through Saturday evening) and promised myself - and G-d - I'd attend service the next morning. But when my offensive clock radio shocked me out of slumber the next day, I hit snooze more than once and ended up skipping services altogether.

So as I weaved among the clumps of members reveling in their post-service glow, I thought: Am I a bad Jew-to-be?

When I got to my rabbi's office, I told her about my existential crisis and she laughed. Apparently, Jews talk a whole lot about guilt, she said, and a lot of Jews swear there's a uniquely felt experience known as "Jewish guilt" (ie. if you forget to call your mother, etc.). But, I'm told, not a lot of Reform Jews really feel guilty when they can't make it to temple on Shabbes (Hebrew for "Shabbat," pronounced "SHAH-bus").

That differs from house to house, of course. But depending on the level of observance, different homes celebrate Shabbes in different ways: lighting candles, saying blessings over challah and wine/grape juice, sharing a fabulous meal, singing, and sometimes/occasionally/hardly ever going to synagogue.

Each home creates its own personal rituals, depending on what activity the family finds meaningful.

As Anita Diamant writes in "Living a Jewish Life": "As with any menu, all sorts of combinations are possible."

What was at play on that Jewish Sabbath was not any kind of Jewish guilt, but my Catholic guilt, rearing its head in the most unexpected of moments and built up over years of reprimand for not attending Sunday Mass regularly. Huh?

I suppose it will be a while before I can shake off that years-old cloak. Gut Shabbes, everyone!

Category: Religion

From Kimchi to Kosher

I grew up in a sunny California suburb that received a mass influx of Asian Americans through the 1990s (my own family arrived from South Korea in the late '70s). I learned English by watching five hours of Sesame Street a day, attended a parochial grammar school and was raised on sticky rice and stinky kimchi. Looking back I can remember just one classmate in my high school - amid the crowds of Asians - who was Jewish (Hi, Doug!).

So how did I decide to become a Reform Jew? For me and many Jews-by-choice, I've learned the answer is never apparent. Though in some ways, I suppose my decision may have been inevitable.

As a child I failed to swallow much of what my classroom nuns told me about purgatory and hell and other Catholic principles, somewhat disappointing my devout mother. As a restless teenager, I tried on different faiths like new outfits, seeing which would fit: I declared myself an atheist (following my father's path), then an agnostic, a Taoist and later by a friend's well-intentioned urging a born-again Christian. In my early adult years I dabbled in Zen Buddhism, but it was really the calming effect of sitting still and emptying my mind of thoughts that drew me, more than the idea that life is pain.

In the last year, I stumbled upon Reform Judaism, and I soon realized that I had found a faith I can lean on, a philosophy to guide my actions, and a set of beliefs that run congruent with my own values.

Still, the answer to "why Jewish?" isn't simple.

In this blog, I will attempt to piece together that answer. Along the way I'll share my encounters, challenges, my "aha" moments and folly as I seek out a place in the local Jewish community.