Speak Up

John Mayer's song Waiting on the World to Change came out at just the right time to really speak to me. It was 2006, I had just graduated high school, and I was looking forward to becoming an adult with real power over my life, which seemed woefully out of my control.

I had been politically frustrated since 2001, when 9/11 had shocked me into paying attention to the the political world around me. I was old enough to start to understand the effects of political decisions on my life, but too young to have a say, and by 2006, I was frustrated with an American political landscape in which we fought two seemingly endless wars against the idea of terrorism and domestically failed to come together, even in the face of Hurricane Katrina.

I had been spiritually adrift for years and my frustration with the world at large only made me more skeptical of God.

My universe literally changed when scientists announced that Pluto was not a planet after all. My beloved Cubs could not change their terrible luck and ended the 2006 season in last place in the National League.

In August, when Waiting on the World to Change was released, I was saying my last goodbyes to my high school friends and packing for college. As an 18-year-old college-bound woman, I stood on the edge of adulthood. I looked into a future that was set on a political trajectory that I did not like, but that was, nonetheless, full of promise, because, as John Mayer pointed out, it would soon be our generation's turn to try our hand at running things. College and adulthood would bring with it a chance to have some real power in my own life. All I had to do was wait a little while longer for the world to change.

It's been seven years and many things have changed. Personally, I have graduated college, held two full-time jobs, lived in three different cities, converted to Judaism, and gotten married. When I actually take the time to reflect on them, my personal accomplishments bring me real joy and fulfillment. From time to time, I feel like a real adult who has intelligent things to say and relevant life experiences.

The world around me has changed too. Some of those changes give me real hope that I live in a good and reasonable world. My first presidential election saw young voter turnout increase in numbers that surprised analysts and I thought that maybe my generation wouldn't have to wait that long to start making a difference. Encouragingly, the Affordable Care Act was passed to make strides toward real needed health care reform, Don't Ask Don't Tell was repealed, and support has swelled for gay rights, and during the last GOP primary, candidate Jon Huntsman warned Republicans against becoming the "anti-science party." I am also heartened by the possibility of Hillary running for president again in 2016 and becoming the first female president.

Despite all this, the world is not changing fast enough. The last seven years has also given rise to the Tea Party and a dangerously antagonistic Congress that seems intent not on moving forward as a nation but on stopping anything constructive from actually getting done. As I write this, Senator Ted Cruz is going into his 10th hour of continuous railing against the Affordable Care Act. It is the second time that the Tea Party has tried to use the nation's budget as a negotiating tool to change laws that they do not have the power to change in the way they were meant to. We have seen more mass shootings than I care to count anymore. After each successive Tuscon, Aurora, Sandy Hook, and Navy Yard, we are left less and less time to mourn before the screaming matches and blame games begin, all of which lead us nowhere. These things and so much more frustrate me and I am tired of waiting on the world to change. I have run out of patience for the unreasonable people on all sides. If we continue to wait for our turn, I'm afraid we will inherit a world so completely screwed up that we won't be able to fix it at all.

At the same time, underneath my frustration, I try to remind myself that loudness does not equal political support. If there really is a silent majority out there of sane people, please, for the love of God, speak up now. At this point, I don't even care what you have to say as long as it is logical and you can argue it without resorting to the negativity that pervades current discourse. I will work on finding my voice and gaining the confidence to speak my mind and I can only hope that others will do the same.

Taglit Birthright Day 8: Yad Vashem & the Kotel

I am transcribing my Birthright journal, a day by day account of my time in Israel. To start at the beginning, click here!

January 4, 2013
Hebrew word of the day: Lizkor velo liskoach (לזכור ולא לשכוח) = Remember and never forget

Yad Vashem

Yad Vashem was overwhelming, just like the Holocaust. There is so much significance and meaning just in the grounds and the architecture of the building. The museum is surrounded by beautiful gardens and trees. Within the gardens are monuments representing the lives lost. The museum itself sticks out of Mt. Herzl at the beginning and the end. You enter in the light and exit in the light with views on both ends of a beautiful and thriving Jerusalem. In order to reach the end, however, you must travel through the depths of the mountain and bear witness to the horrors of the Holocaust. There is so much material there that it is impossible to see it all in one day, let alone the three hours we were there.

The Menache Yehuda Market was also overwhelming, with so many shops and a mad crush of people. After the market, we prepared for Shabbat and went to the Kotel.

There are not words to describe the Kotel, but I'll try anyway. There is an overpowering sense of spirituality and unity at the Kotel. Singing songs surrounded by others who are singing the same songs and saying the same prayers that I say at home is an amazing and intense feeling, like being a family. We struggled past a throng of people to get up to the wall. It is a miracle that anyone is able to move in such a tightly packed crowd. Finally, all the women on our side of the mechitza made a giant circle and sang songs. It was incredible.

The modern feminist in me hates to admit it, but the mechitza was not the oppressive and segregating force that I have always thought it would be. When we arrived at the airport last week, our Mayanot coordinator, Abi, taught us a chant. With our arms around each other's shoulders, we chanted "Achim, achim, achim achim achim! Simcha, simcha, simcha simcha simcha!" Achim means brothers and simcha means joy. At the Kotel, as a large group of women, we did the same chant, but instead of achim, we shouted loud and proud, "Achayot, achayot!" "Sisters, sisters! Joy, joy!"

Unfortunately, the night ended on a sour note. After an awesome Shabbat dinner of banging on tables, we had a session called "stump the rabbi" with Rabbi Berel. One of the first questions was about conversion. Berel is a Chabad rabbi (for the Chabad opinion on conversion, check out this video), so I wouldn't necessarily expect him to see my Reform conversion as valid in his movement, but he went beyond that. He told a story about a woman who converted, but on her death bed when God didn't heal her, she turned back to Jesus. Berel went on to say that non-Orthodox conversions are quick things. He said, "You pay the rabbi $900 and you're Jewish. If you don't want to do it the right way [Orthodox], then you should choose a different religion." My husband argued in defense of non-Orthodox conversions without telling anyone that I converted. A few other people spoke up about having a parent who converted. I didn't speak up. I want nothing more on this trip than to be Jewish without question. Telling people that I converted requires a certain amount of trust. They have to trust me when I say that I converted for myself and not for my husband. I'm not sure that a twelve day trip will foster that kind of trust. I certainly didn't want to get into such a heated conversation after such an overall amazing day.

To hear more of my thoughts about conversion, keep reading!

Taglit Mayanot Day 2: Shabbat

I just got back from Israel and I am transcribing the journal from my trip day by day. To start at the beginning, click here!

December 29, 2012
Word of the day: Shavua Tov (שבוע טוב) = Have a good week

We had an early night yesterday and a late start today, which was excellent. Breakfast went from 8-10 AM and my husband and I got there at 9:30 AM so that we could eat before trying to get a group together for services. Eating salad for breakfast seems to be a thing here. Anyway, we were supposed to try to get a minyan starting at 10:00 AM for morning services, but we didn't even come close. It wound up just being me and my husband, our tour guide Ariel, and two other guys in our group. Our rabbi and the other group's rabbi didn't even show up, although even if they had, we still would have needed four more men for a minyan.

Sidenote: This is a chabad trip, so I don't count for a minyan. It is very discouraging to not count. We were separated by gender for the Maariv service last night, but they didn't use a mechitza. It almost seemed like they might as well use one if we weren't going to interact and we didn't count anyway. A few of us stuck around after for an extended service - five men and four women. It was belittling to hear the rabbis talk about needing five more for a minyan. What is the point of going if you don't contribute to the community's numbers? Despite all this, I showed up this morning anyway knowing that I wouldn't count.

After praying silently to ourselves, since we didn't have a minyan, we had lunch with the group, followed by free time. My husband and I walked down the path along the Galilee, which ends at a cemetery. It was a gorgeous cemetery on a hill with beautiful tombstones and music. At the top of the hill was a mountain of stones commemorating Herzl, the first Zionist. We asked Ariel about it and he said that there is a pile of stones further north that is harder to get to where people leave stones every year. The one we saw is made up of some of the stones from that site, which they have turned into a memorial now.

The moon on the Sea of Galilee

We walked back, took a nap, ate dinner, and had some group bonding activities. Tomorrow, eight soldiers will join our group for five days, so we talked about the army and mandatory service. Rabbi Berel led Havdalah services and we went out of a night in Tiberias. Marc and I had a nice dinner and drinks on the boardwalk. There was this awesome light show on the water - the spray water up in the air and then project onto it like a screen.

Side note: they don't have limes in Israel.

After dinner, we hooked back up with the group at the loudest bar in existence. It was like a frat party, which wasn't my thing, even when I was in college, but the night was fun anyway. It was amazing to see the mix of people walking around. The patriotism here is beyond anything I've experienced. To hear Ariel and others talk about the land, you can tell they really love it. Ariel was born in America and made Aliyah with his parents about 12 years ago, when he was 18. The more time we spend here, the more I can see us living here. The land is beautiful, the weather is great, the people are brave and eclectic, and it's nice to have such easy access to so much kosher food. Sababa!

Hear about my soldiers here!

Quote of the Week: Binders full of women

"They brought us binders full of women." -Mitt Romney, Presidential Debate at Hofstra University, October 16, 2012

While answering a question about gender and pay equity, Romney attempted to explain that when he was Governor of Massachusetts he actively sought women for his cabinet. Romney found these women by approaching women's groups to find appropriate female candidates for the cabinet positions. The fact that those groups gave him "binders full of women" to look through really wasn't a necessary detail and only detracted from his point, but it is an excellent example of the laughable/frustrating way Romney talks about women. The substance of his statement was great - he made a "concerted effort" to diversify his all-male pool of applicants and include women. I'm glad. If he had stopped this story there, that would have been weird, but fine. Instead, he went on to talk about understanding the needs of women in the workplace. His example: women need more flexible hours so they can come in late when they have to get the kids to school in the morning or go home in time to make dinner.

First of all, I would prefer to hear about Romney's plan (if he has one) to close the salary gap between men and women. Second, I can't cook, so my husband will be the one making dinner. Most importantly, even if women can't have it all, that's not something I want Mitt Romney (or any man) to tell me or even hint at.

Want a good laugh? Check out: http://bindersfullofwomen.tumblr.com/

Yael bat Avraham v'Sarah

Two weeks ago, I converted to Judaism. I am now whole-heartedly 100% Jewish. It was a decision two-and-a-half years in the making and not one that I took lightly. The road to choosing a Jewish life was fraught with questions about theology and practice, concerns about culture and language, and the more personal question of how my family would react (they have been incredibly supportive). While I am sure I will touch on all of these things at some point in this blog, I want to focus today on my Hebrew name.

Have you ever thought about what you would name yourself if you had the chance to go back and make a suggestion to your parents? How would you choose a name that encompassed who you are, who you hope to be, and who you may ultimately become? Choosing my Hebrew name was one of the most difficult parts of my conversion. I was in the home stretch, after all. Wrestling with God and questioning my religious place in the world were behind me. I had already chosen Judaism and just needed a name that would ground me in the history and tradition of the Jewish people.

Should I be Miriam or Deborah? They are strong, recognizable Jewish women. They were women with their own connections to God, women who were leaders in their community. Eliana means "God has answered," which is a fitting summary of my conversion experience. Plus, it is pretty and starts with an E, as does my English name. I continued like that through all the Hebrew names that even remotely interested me. I even made a color-coded spreadsheet to help me organize my thoughts on each name.

In the end, I chose the Hebrew name Yael bat Avraham v’Sarah. On my spreadsheet the name Yael had this note: "Awesome, but too violent?"

The story of Yael can be found in Judges 4-5. Under the leadership of the prophet Deborah and the Israelite military commander Barak, the Israelite army fought the Canaanite army for their freedom after 20 years of oppression. The Israelites won, but Sisera, the commander of the Canaanite army, escaped to the tent of an Israelite woman named Yael and asked her to hide him. She invited him in, gave him milk, and tucked him in for a nap. Then Yael "picked up a tent peg and a hammer and went quietly to him while he lay fast asleep, exhausted. She drove the peg through his temple into the ground, and he died" (Judges 4:21). Yael was proclaimed a hero and "the most blessed of women" (Judges 5:24) for her actions and the Israelites enjoyed forty years of peace.

I chose the name Yael as my Hebrew name because Yael is a complex Biblical woman and a strong, independent hero. Her role as a woman, caregiver, and assassin should cause us to think critically about gender roles, human nature, and questions of life and loss. I hope to always think critically about Judaism and to not shy away from difficult theological questions. Though the story of Yael is difficult because of its violent nature, it is ultimately a story of bravery and victory. Yael’s story ends with joyous song, dance, and praise. Though Judaism may, at times, continue to challenge me with its complexity, as does the story of Yael, I believe that it will also give my life joy and blessings.

Chag Sameach, Happy Passover!