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PREFACE
Teshuva
I was
raised in a loving, High Holiday Reform Jewish family on Long
Island. As a child, I did not celebrate a bat mitzvah, attend
Hebrew school or Jewish summer camp, or develop much of a Jewish
identity. I was Jewish because I wasn't Christian and my parents
told me I was Jewish. I was Jewish because we celebrated a few
Jewish holidays every year. I had no real idea what it meant
to be Jewish. If I hadn't been born Jewish, I didn't have any
compelling reason to be a Jew.
As a young
adult, I traveled far from my Jewish roots. I didn't care much
about being a Jew and I certainly didn't aspire to marry a Jew.
For lack of a better term, I became "new age" and only culturally
Jewish, celebrating Jewish holidays with my family, but not
considering my spiritual path to be a Jewish one.
A series
of events in my late twenties and early thirties brought me
back to embrace being Jewish in a new and observant way. Attending
a singles event in the Boston area, I heard a rabbi speak about
Adam and Eve, introducing me to Torah for the first time in
my life. I was enthralled. I went on to study intensely for
several years with Rabbi Alan Ullman, a brilliant and inspired
Torah teacher who brought Jewish texts to life for me. Alan
lit my soul on fire and showed me that everything I was searching
for outside of my faith was already present in Judaism. I had
no idea.
I joined
the unique and vibrant Reform synagogue Temple Beth El, in Sudbury,
Massachusetts, where Rabbi Larry Kushner, Cantor Laurel Zar-Kessler,
and an enthusiastic and learned congregation helped me discover
that synagogue could be fun. To mark the significance of my
return to Judaism (teshuva) on Shabbot Teshuva, I learned to
read Hebrew and celebrated an adult bat mitzvah at the age of
thirty-three. I also changed from my given name Linda, to the
Hebrew name Azriela, a powerful way to identify myself as a
newly observant and committed Jew.
During
this time, to my parent's relief, I started searching for a
Jewish husband with whom I could share my Jewish awakening.
Not Too
Jewish, Please...
In 1992
I placed a personals ad in the Boston Jewish newspaper, The
Jewish Advocate. I prayed to G-d when I placed the ad: "Please
G-d, send me a nice Jewish man, someone who embraces his Jewish
heritage and has a strong sense of spirituality, who will be
a loyal husband and a fine father for our future Jewish children,
but please... don't make him too Jewish." I was enthusiastic
about my new commitments to a Jewish life, but I was still a
Reform Jew and wary of joining with any Jewish man too rigid
or observant for my taste.
G-d must
have thought I needed a lesson in flexibility and compromise,
because responding to my personals ad was Stephen. Kosher Stephen,
Stephen who has six sets of dishes and cleans the entire house
for Passover, Stephen who enjoys an Orthodox service of at least
three hours in length, Stephen who takes time off from work
to observe religious holidays I've never heard of - my adoring,
lovable, very Jewish and very observant beshert, Stephen.
Under
normal circumstances I might not have answered Stephen's letter,
so G-d sent Stephen to me in the most unusual way. Three months
after I had canceled my ad because I hadn't turned up the right
prospect, Stephen saw my ad while visiting an aunt who was a
subscriber to the newspaper. How did he see my ad when the ad
had been canceled? Because the one and only time that Stephen
looked at the personals in this paper, my personals ad had mysteriously
reappeared - without my permission or awareness.
When I
inquired of the paper how my ad had returned to the classifieds,
the woman answered: "I remember you calling me and telling me
specifically to rerun your ad on Labor Day Weekend." I was stunned.
I hadn't called her. Labor Day weekend was the weekend Stephen
happened to be visiting his aunt. It was also the first weekend
that he was "free" to go looking for a new partner, after the
seperation from his former wife became official and he knew
without question that his marriage was over.
I believed
that this matchmaking was the work of Hashem (God) so I took
Stephen very seriously, observant Jew or not.
Should
I Order the Shrimp?
Our first
date was at a Thai restaurant. In the brief getting-to know-you
conversation before selecting our meals for the evening, I learned
that he kept kosher. (Oy vey, I remember thinking. One strike
against him in the "future husband" tally.) I told Stephen that
I didn't keep kosher, and immediately I was faced with my first
Jewish dilemma in our relationship. Did I order what I really
wanted, shrimp, or would that offend him? Did I start giving
up who I was already, on our first date?
I explained
to Stephen my version of bringing Judaism into my meals. I said
the ha-motzi, the Jewish blessing, before every meal - even
when eating pork chops, shrimp, and cheeseburgers. To me, saying
the ha-motzi meant saying thankyou to G-d for the food. Since
I didn't keep kosher, and saw no reason to, I said the prayer
over nonkosher food. I'm sure that Stephen had a hard time keeping
a straight face as I explained my rationale.
I chose
a vegetarian meal. Little did I know it would be the first of
hundreds of compromises I would make in our life together.
Engaged!
When we
announced our engagement to our families, everyone, including
Stephen and me, felt tremendous relief that we had found a Jewish
mate. It's hard enough these days to find a compatible life-partner.
Two Jews marrying one another was an event to be much celebrated.
From the beginning of our relationship I felt great joy... and
angst.
If choosing
a Jewish mate should make my life much simpler, why were we
having difficulty choosing which rabbi would marry us, or agreeing
on the synagogue we would use for the wedding ceremony? Why
did the idea of keeping a kosher home feel like such a big deal
to me? If I found Stephen's synagogue services to be dreadfully
boring and long, and he found my synagogue enjoyable but not
traditional or complete enough for his taste, how would we ever
pray together? We knew that issues over Judaism would only come
up more and more frequently and become more complex as we brought
children into the world.
Committed
to our union, we began negotiating and, looking for ways to
make it work instead of reasons why it wouldn't. It wasn't easy,
and still isn't, but the belief we both carried in our hearts
that we were beshert guided us through each new obstacle.
You Want
Me to Do What?!!!
During
hundreds of negotiations in our life together, there have been
many times when I have said...
"You want
me to do what!" You want me to keep a kosher home, go to the
mikvah, and raise our children in the Orthodox way of life?
And my
husband has also spoken: "You want me to do what!" Drive on
the Sabbath before sundown, accept an abbreviated Passover seder,
and allow my children to eat nonkosher food outside of the home?
As Stephen
and I have engaged in many heated discussions about what is
"right," I have defended my choice to not observe certain rituals
and ardently argued against the perception that I was any less
authentic a Jew for choosing so.
Initially
in our marriage, I witnessed Stephen's disdain for nonobservance,
a judgment that I experienced as a personal attack and one that
hurt me deeply. We have come a long way on this issue, as we
have come to understand and accept each other's position. We
are now an observant family, as I have chosen to join Stephen
in most of the Jewish practices important to him.
I am continuing
to define who I am as a Jew, sorting out what I do simply out
of love and respect for my husband, and what I practice or don't
because of my own beliefs. No denominational label fits us anymore.
We are a Jewish couple, figuring out our individual spiritual
and religious paths in the world and how we wish to raise our
children. We are perplexed at times about how to do it well
and how to accommodate our marked differences in approach to
Jewish observance. But we are never confused about one thing.
We know that we belong together, for better or worse, and that
we will either work out our differences or learn to live with
them.
Whoever
said that living life as a Jew would be easy? But it is a blessing,
nonetheless. And so is our marriage - even on the hard days.
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