Agreeing to disagree

Hmmm.  The other day, I got ‘called’ for my approach to Judaism.  Why bother converting Liberal, when you can convert Orthodox and be accepted around the world as a proper Jew?  Why put your children through difficulties in the future when they find they won’t be accepted in a school because they and their mother are not halachically Jewish? Why? Why? Why?

Unsurprisingly, this put me on the defensive.  First of all, the assumption about my family life (a woman without children isn’t natural).  Well, there are many, many reasons to not have children.  Why they don’t make an appearance in my family unit isn’t for public knowledge, unless I choose it to be so.  And following from that, the assumption that I would automatically choose  to put any children of mine in a Jewish school.  There’s nothing wrong with Jewish schools, but there is a whole other world out there and many other good schools to choose from.  Anyway, that bit is really irrelevant, since there are no little Rachels to have to make the decision about.

The issue of ‘why bother’ has really made me pause for thought.  I do sort of see the point.  There are aspects of Liberal Judaism that are not necessarily how I do my Judaism.  But then, surely that’s healthy?  Just blindly following and agreeing with everything my chosen movement does – that wouldn’t really say too much about me as an alive, questioning individual, would it?  If I am going to go through the effort of conversion though (and contrary to some thoughts, converting Liberal isn’t ‘easy’), why not do it in a manner that will be accepted universally? (Here I would just like to say that from what I have read recently, this universal acceptance of an Orthodox conversion isn’t necessarily true, anyway).

Well, perhaps it is time I stood up for my approach to becoming a Jew.  Why not?  I will get asked, yet again, when I stand in front of the Rabbinic Board, what I am doing there and they will be trying to ascertain my sincerity.  Fair enough.  Perhaps I should preface what I am about to write with this – I am not saying my way is the right way, it is just right for me, and right for me, right now.  Anyone else is free to choose their path, Jewish or otherwise – and I utterly and sincerely respect the choice that has been made. 

Liberal Judaism (LJ) allows me to convert whilst not insisting that my BH do the same, although LJ does insist on meeting my BH to make sure that there is going to be a supportive home environment that will allow and encourage me to develop as a Jew.  At the same time though, the onus is on me to push that development forwards, to follow Shabbat rituals, to say blessings, prayers, have mezuzot, candles, a chanukiyah, Torah, Talmud etc so that anyone walking into my home will know that it is a Jewish home.  My BH is welcome to attend shul, classes etc, or not.  There is no pressure, but at the same time, the door is always figuratively open.

If I were to consider Orthodoxy, there would be a significant problem.  I could no longer live with my BH, who has been with me through good and bad times, for a very long time.  Our relationship is up there on equal footing with being Jewish.  Take either away from me, and my heart is torn in two.  Both sustain me in different, yet complementary ways.  Alternatively, my BH would be forced into a position of conversion – how can that be right?  And this is not even touching the issue of who my BH is.  Safe to say, we would never be accepted together, as a couple, in any kind of Orthodox environment. 

LJ is inclusive of all people.  Those who keep kosher, those who don’t.  Families, single people.  Gay, straight, transgender.  Those who have two Jewish parents, those who have only one (irrespective of maternal versus paternal lineage).  Those who attend all services, those who attend maybe only one a year, or none.  Men who wear kippot and tallitot, men who don’t.  Women who do (or don’t do) the same.  Women who lay tefillin, women who don’t even know what they are.  Converts of all kind and those who attend, but never convert. I think it is safe to say that we are a very diverse group of people, all tied together by our Judaism, in whatever manner we practice it.  Oh yes, and we have female rabbis who complement the men nicely, in my opinion. 

Orthodoxy – well I know (because I ask questions and read a lot) that there is room for manouevre within its auspices.  It is not totally rigid and dogmatic.  There are things about it that attract me, I would be lying if I didn’t state that this is the case.  For example, I like the approach to tznius, although I fail to see how I could do my sport of choice (which I am passionate about!) even half way effectively in a below the knee length skirt! I also think my personal hygiene would leave a lot to be desired in the recent hot temperatures we have been experiencing if I opted for long sleeved tops!  On a different note, the commitment to prayers and blessings throughout the day also speaks to me spiritually. Taking time to speak to G-d directly, reconnecting with my faith in the secular world of work is a welcome pause that I have really come to treasure.  In a strange way, living in a community where everyone lives in the same broad way also attracts me.  There would be no explaining necessary, would there?  Less juggling of two parts of my life would certainly be an easier prospect.

However, reality is out there.  Deny it all we might, but 21st century life is not built to cope with akward faiths that like to shut up shop on a Friday afternoon/evening for a whole day.  I work.  I have a home to run with my BH.  Changing my routine was very hard at the beginning, but now it works, but there still have to be compromises. 

No matter how much I could wander off into an idealised world regarding the attractive side of Orthodoxy, I know that in my heart of hearts, it would be too restrictive a life for me.  I have read many articles and heard many things explaining how the role of women on Orthodoxy isn’t repressive, and that there are valid reasons why women don’t do certain things that men do, they create the spirit of the home, teach the children, they don’t need to perform so many mitzvot because of their nature, and so on.  They can be very persuasive indeed – Chabad, for example, have a great marketing machine relating to the women’s role (and that’s how it can come across, altough I do find it a useful resource).  But still, that mechitsa does bother me – and it always did.  And then there are the issues of kippah, tallit and tefillin.  There is no issue in LJ about whether it is appropriate for women to wear/use any or all of these, whereas of course, they are discussed at length in Orthodoxy (or rather, not discussed at all, because there is nothing to discuss).  I think it would be a very brave woman indeed who appeared at shul in a kippah and tallit and decided that she would lay tefillin at home.  And as for a female rabbi – well…

Why do I mention these outward symbols of faith specifically?  Why the issue of female rabbis?  Of course, it’s a personal thing.  I don’t yet own and therefore don’t use a tallit or lay tefillin - I can’t, apparently, because I am not yet Jewish (although I do beg to differ there – I can’t use them because using them involves saying a blessing that states that I have been commanded to do so – I can’t have been commanded because I am not yet Jewish.  I know for a fact that I recite other blessings regularly at the instigation of the rabbi that involve the phrase ‘who commanded us’, so what is the difference?).  Anyway, I fully intend to use both, once I am Jewish.  It’s not because I want to be like a man, want to have everything that a man has and think it is my right, as a protest for feminism.  It’s a spiritual thing.  Every Shabbat, I see one member of our congregation put on his tallit – he says the blessing, kisses the atarah and then puts it on.  I almost feel like I am intruding when I watch this – it is such a personal and spiritual thing to do – dividing the day into a ‘before’ and ‘after’.  I see the tallit as a symbol for wrapping myself in G-d’s presence and can totally understand the extra layer of closeness that many say that it brings.  Ditto for teffilin. 

Ah yes, and female rabbis.  Sometimes, there are things that only a woman can discuss with a woman, no matter how wonderful the male in question.  I have a good mix of male and female friends and I know that it is very unlikely that I will treat them all the same.  It’s just not possible – so I think female rabbis are a bonus to the community.  I also know that somehow, I want to contribute to the future of Judaism in the years ahead – the fact that this opportunity is open to me if it is right for me (and my BH) is a wonderful prospect.  I can’t imagine an environment in Orthodoxy where that is the case.

I have been pondering a great deal lately.  My eyes have opened to many things.  As I wrote right near the beginning of this post, there are things about LJ that I am not necessarily 100% happy about.  But the movement allows me choice in almost any area, which in turn means that I can follow my own path without fearing that I am falling foul of any rules or regulations.  It is quite probable that I will fall within the definition of being more observant than others – to me it’s an important way to connect to my lost heritage – but this doesn’t, in my eyes, make me a better Jew.  It just makes me who I am, and their level of observance makes my Jewish friends who they are.  There’s plenty of room for us all.