Just Practicing

Yom Kippur Fast

Can we talk about the Jews and how they are HARDCORE? Holy crap the sissy fasting that the Catholics do is nothing, NOTHING, compared to Yom Kippur. My (future) brother-in-law likes to say that Jews are just more efficient. They take all the guilt and repentance and "fasting" that the Catholics stretch out over the 40 days of Lent and get it all done in one day. 

Atonement? Check.

8am: I'm thirsty.

8:15am: Made my husband breakfast & lunch. Realized that I usually nosh through half of his food before I pack it. No bites today.

8:20am: I'm still thirsty.

8:25am: Screw this. I'm going back to bed.

10:45am: Fuck! I'll be late for services!

10:46am: I am THIIIIIIIIIRSTY!

10:50am: No washing....I won't shower, I won't do the laundry, but I will wash my face.

10:55am: No lotions...no sunscreen?!? I'll be wrinkly for the Lord.

10:56am: Makeup...dead people wear makeup, so I will, too?

11am: I just need to brush my teeth and I can leave.

11:01am: I LOVE brushing my teeth!

11:02am: Has toothpaste always tasted this good?

11:03am: Maybe I'll just brush a little longer.

11:05am: I need to gargle a few more times.

11:10am: FUCK!!! I'm running late!!!!

11:15am: I'll add "cutting someone off" to the list of things to atone for.

11:25am: And "Stealing someone's parking space."

11:30am: My sister-in-law tells me, "The upside of sitting in the overflow library spaces is that nobody will notice if you fall asleep during services."

11:35am: I'm thirsty AND hungry.

11:45am-1pm: I have no idea where we are in the order of worship.

1pm: The Rabbi says of the passage from Isaiah: "Just about now we think, 'Fasting? No big deal, I can handle this.'" I throw him dagger eyes.

1:03pm: The Rabbi goes on to make some good points and I add "Giving the Rabbi dirty looks" to my list of things to atone for.

2:30pm: Is this service really still going?

2:35pm: Wow. That ended quickly.

2:45pm: Talking in the street about food for the break fast at sundown. I'm surprisingly indifferent.

3pm: Back at home, realizing that I have a hour to pack and clean the house before leaving for my acupuncture appointment.

3:45pm: That went fast. I am nervous about telling the acupuncturist that I haven't eaten all day.

4pm: The acupuncturist tells me I look great and doesn't (for the first time ever) inquire what I've had to eat or drink that day.

4:30pm: It's hard to relax with pins sticking out of you and a growling stomach.

5pm: Acupuncturist wakes me up. Apparently relaxing wasn't that hard.

5:15pm: Rushing around to finish packing. Husband returns home.

5:30pm: Talk to our neighbor who is also fasting. He says my break fast plans of eating hard boiled eggs in the car sound depressing.

5:45pm: Everything my husband does or says annoys the crap out of me.

5:50pm: Someone calls my name. Assuming it's my husband, I angrily yell "WHAT DO YOU WANT?!!?"

5:51pm: Our neighbor and his three-year-old son walk into the kitchen with kugel, apple-honey cakes, and other assorted treats all packed up for my break-fast on the car trip.

5:52pm: Profuse apologies and thanks. We laugh (uncomfortably) about low blood sugar and "Hangry" (Hungry + Angry).

6:30pm: We're finally packing the car and leaving.

6:40pm: I call my brother-in-law and search my books for the blessing for bread to say before the break-fast. Can't get through or find it in the books.

6:45pm: I say the only one I sort of know by heart, amended: "Baruck atah adonai, eloheynu melech ha-olam, asher kitshau bamitz vatanu....for the bread?"

6:50pm: I LOVE FOOD!!! I LOVE WATER!!! PRAISE THE LORD!!!

6:55pm: My husbands says to me, "I didn't want to mention this earlier, but your breath was awful."

6:56pm: I control every impulse in my body to throw the chicken liver at him. I don't need anymore things to atone for today.

The Not-So-Great Schlep

Thursday night I celebrated the break fast not at my sister-in-law's house eating bagels and schmear, but in a car with my husband driving to southern California, munching on hard boiled eggs and begging for an In-and-Out burger. Actually, my neighbors stopped by with some kugel, a chickeny spread (liver?) of some sort, and a scrumptious honey apple cake, so it was a pretty delicious break fast, even if in the car.

While some brave souls are schlepping to Florida this weekend, I am just going home. No doubt my parents could stand to hear a little pro-Obama campaigning, but I've been trying for months to swing them over without success, and the fact that this state will go to him anyway hardly increases my desire to bring it up again.

So instead we will all ignore our glaring political differences and go apple picking instead. A fitting end to the days of awe, no?

Yom Kippur reflections will post next week, while I will actually be working on Sukkot...meaning that I will be perpetually behind until the autumnal flurry of holidays is finally over. Hopefully I'll get my shit together in time for Pesach.

Rosh Hashanah & The Days of Repentance

We ate apples dipped in honey. Actually, because I am a food snob and an elitist, we ate local organic apples bought at the farmers market dipped in honey from a hive in my friend's back yard. And because I like a little flourish, we also poured the honey over some fresh sheep's milk ricotta and sprinkled it all with lavender salt. Yum.

We went to a synagogue in Berkeley and sat in the back. I didn't know any of the songs or prayers, but tried my best to blend. Other people back there seemed to be in our boat, too. Toward the end of the service they sounded the shofar- the smallest one I've ever seen- a shofarito, actually. It's higher pitch sounded like a woman yelping in pain, and the idea that the short blasts of the shofar mimic the human cry finally resonated with me.

My sister-in-law and her fiance, and a good friend who's car fortuitously broke down a mile away, came over to dinner that night and we ate delicious things that I cooked and the amazing challah that they baked.

 

(An impressive freshman effort, don't you think?)

The day flew by. With services, lunch, errands, appointments, a car breaking down and the subsequently necessary round of drinks, cooking dinner and celebrating, there were so many little moments but they've all smooshed together in my memory, tangled up like the vines in my backyard. 

I suppose that's appropriate, though, since Rosh Hashanah, as a commemoration, has a lot going on. It's a new year, it's the celebration of the creation of humanity and our relationship with God, it's a celebration of God's Kingship, it's the beginning of ten days of repentance leading up to Yom Kippur. That's a lot to hold in your head all at once.

So I focused my attention on the apples. Apples dipped in honey represent the wish for a sweet New Year, but the more I thought about it, the more it seemed like a perfect choice for the beginning of the days of repentance.

Rosh Hashanah is also a birthday in a sense- it is the birthday of humanity, and to that end, the anniversary of our relationship with God. These are events are golden and sweet, our conception and birth in the mind of God, the beginning of our intimate and timeless covenant with God. They are the honey of the year.

But the apple! For me it was a reminder of the days ahead. No sooner than we met our God did we prove how unreliable a people we would turn out to be. I thought about this while munching leftovers the next morning. That honey-soaked apple ushered me straight into repentance, as I saw the goodness of God wrapped around a symbol of our own willfulness. 

And that's the heart of it, isn't it? We repent from all those times that our own desires and will overshadowed the needs and kindness of those around us, the times they even overshadowed God.

As I've been eating apples this week, I keep thinking of those transgression, building a list of repentance, wincing as I remember each cruel thing that I have done. In the silences I keep hearing the sharp broken cry of the shofar, the sound of a woman beginning to cry.

L'shanah Tovah!

Happy New Year, everyone! It's the Jewish New Year 5769 and my new year's resolution is to practice Judaism for the year.  This wouldn't be that big of a deal if I was an observant Jew, it would be like saying "Happy New Year! I just going to keep doing what I'm already doing."  Perhaps is would be more admirable if I was a non-observant Jew spending the year reconnecting with my heritage through the practice of the faith. But the fact of the matter is, I am a Catholic.

I am not a fallen-away Catholic, not a "recovering" Catholic, I am a professional Catholic. I get paid to teach and practice the faith. So the fact that I've decided to practice Judaism for the year is neither admirable nor cogent. It's mostly just weird. But I am alright with that.

"So why?" you might be wondering. The best I can do is offer three thoughts that have been banging around in my head for some time now. First, I want to be an amateur again. I want to practice a faith for the sheer love and mystery of it all. I want to be overwhelmed by all that I don't know, I want to be the person who gets to ask questions rather than answer them, I want to be the anonymous person sitting in at services.  Second, I am at a crossroads in my life where I have enough free time, and enough resources (friends and family) to guide me through this undertaking. I am always much bolder when I am surrounded by friends.  Finally, everything that I've learned so far about Judaism has delighted an impressed me. So I naturally want to learn more, and we learn best by doing, I've always been told.

I'm not yet sure how I will deal with the Catholic-Jewish overlap. I don't know to what degree I will practice both. I am hoping that things will become clear after I take the first few steps. I welcome you to walk along with me.