Background on how Jews read the Torah/Bible
The Torah is the first five books of the Bible - Genesis, Exodus, Leviticus, Numbers, and Deuteronomy. The entire Torah is broken into portions (parshiot in Hebrew) and we read one per week in order. When we get to the end, we start over with Genesis. Since we just passed the Jewish New Year (Rosh Hashanah), we started over with Parsha Bereishit (Genesis 1:1-6:8). There is a corresponding Haftarah reading (a reading from the other parts of the "Old Testament." These do not necessarily go in order). You can find all the portions and their corresponding Haftarah readings here.
Actual topicAnyway, we just started over last week. It amazes me just how much stuff is packed into Genesis. In Bereishit, for example, we get two creation stories, the forbidden fruit, Cain and Abel, and then a list of descendants all the way up to Noah. In Torah study last week, we skipped creation and spent almost two hours just talking about Cain and Abel.
This week, in Parsha Noah, we read:
- the flood,
- the first vineyard, which was immediately followed by a very drunk, naked Noah in a tent,
- another long list of descendants as Noah's sons repopulate the world,
- the Tower of Babel,
- and more descendants, ending with the introduction of Abram and Sarai (soon to be Abraham and Sarah).
So basically, there is a lot packed into Genesis and, even though it's the same content every year, there's always something new to focus on. This deliberate way of reading the Torah is one of my favorite parts of Judaism.
Shabbat Shalom!
Erin
Origin: Irish
Meaning: Ireland
Aaron
Origin: Hebrew
Meaning: Exalted, Strong
My name has never really held any meaning for me, not that I don't like it. It does not, as with most Erins, denote an Irish heritage (I'm a mix of mostly German and Portuguese). It's not derived from some old family name. More often than not, I say my name too fast and people hear Ann or Karen instead. My parents just liked the name Erin, so here I am.
Aaron, on the other hand, is a common name for Jewish boys. Biblically, Aaron was Moses' brother, his second in command, and the priest from whom all Kohanim (the Jewish priestly class) descend. Because of this, I find a new layer of explanation attached to my name during introductions in a Jewish context. I have two very recent examples of "the name conversation" to share.
The first was at Rosh Hashanah dinner with my fiance's cousin's cousins (he has a large and convoluted extended family, so just go with it). After they finished figuring out how he was related to someone they were also related to, but not related to them directly, the cousin's cousins turned to me:
One said, "What was your name again?"
"Erin."
"Karen?"
"No, Er-in," I enunciated. Then I spelled it out for them, just to be sure.
"Oh. Are you Irish?"
"No, my parents just liked the name Erin."
"It's an unusual Jewish name."
"Yeah, my parents aren't Jewish. I converted."
From everyone, "Oh mazel tov (congratulations)!"
This led to a conversation about why I decided to convert and the differences between Christianity and Judaism, which I won't get into here, but let me just say that a belief in Jesus is not the only difference between the two.
Conversation #2 took place on Yom Kippur between me and the old woman sitting next to me at services:
After sitting next to each other in silence for two hours, she leaned over and said, "You look very young. How old are you?"
"I'm 23."
"I bet people say you look much younger than that."
"Yeah, I usually get 12."
"Oh, you'll appreciate that when you're older."
The age conversation is another one that I have on a regular basis. We were asked to rise as the Torah was taken out of the ark and our conversation ended for a while. Some time later, she leaned over again to ask, "What's your name?"
"Erin."
"Ann?"
"No, Er-in."
She spelled out, "A-a-r-o-n?"
"No, spelled E-r-i-n." At this point in the name conversation I always think to myself, Seriously? Aaron with two As is a male name and I am clearly a not a man.
"Oh..." she said. "That's an odd name."
"Yeah..."
I have been really bad at blogging recently, so here is a quick update on my life:
I moved from Nashville to Philadelphia, a big change to which I will probably devote a separate blog post. Marc (my wonderful fiance) and I joined a Conservative synagogue here that is the friendliest place I have ever been.
I visited NYC for the first time in my life. My only impressions of it before this came mainly from Law & Order. First impression in real life: It's very big. The subway needs some fans or something to blow the air around, because it's very stuffy down there. It's an excellent way to get around though. I didn't get to see anything touristy, so I guess I will have to go back and do that at some point. I did get a tour of the Bloomberg building, visited JTS, and had lunch at a kosher deli in Williamsburg, Brooklyn (where I'm pretty sure my tank top made the Hasidic waiter uncomfortable, but it's summer).
And I started work at Maccabi USA, a Jewish non-for-profit dedicated to building Jewish pride and culture through sports.
One of the many wonderful things about working for a Jewish institution is the fact that we get Jewish holidays off. So between Rosh Hashanah, Yom Kippur, Sukkot, and Simchat Torah, my work weeks in October are incredibly short. As the New Year (Rosh Hashanah) begins, the rabbi at my new synagogue asked us to reflect on the following questions:
- What blessings have occurred in the past year? What difficulties have I endured, or do I continue to endure?
- Are there any lessons that I may draw from these past experiences?
- What are my prayers and hopes for the coming year? How will my past experiences help me to chart a path to achieving these goals?
Since this is my first official year as a Jew, I figure I should try to answer them. So here goes:
This year has been incredibly eventful and I have a lot to be thankful for. I got engaged to the love of my life, converted to Judaism (which was a two-year long process for me), learned the Hebrew alef-bet, and moved out of the South to the east coast, where I am much less likely to find confederate flag memorabilia.
Tangent: That flag drives me nuts. They put it on license plates, beach towels, clothing, and, I'm sure, pretty much anything else they can manage. You can call it a "symbol of Southern pride," but history has made it a symbol of racism, oppression, and violence, and you can't wash that history out of it or pretend it didn't happen.
Anyway, back to my new year's reflections. A difficulty:
Judaism is a religion of lifelong learning. That's what originally drew me to it. I like the feeling that it will never get old, that there will always be a new meaning to discover or something in the Torah that I missed last year. But being a new Jew (Jew by Choice, convert, etc) presents its own learning process that I am finding particularly difficult. I'm not talking about the technical aspects, like learning Hebrew and getting Jewish cultural references. Those can be overcome with Rosetta Stone and a Woody Allen and Mel Brooks movie marathon.
And I'm not talking about feeling singled out as a convert. Once you convert to Judaism, you are supposed to be seen as just as Jewish as every other Jew. True to this rule, no one has questioned my Jewish background. In fact, I frequently encounter the opposite - when a story comes up about "one year at Christmas" or "my cousin's Catholic wedding" people are confused by the idea that my family isn't Jewish.
No, my struggle stems from those things you can't learn, those experiences that make up the Jewish childhood I didn't have. Learning new songs at summer camp, suffering through Hebrew school, searching for the afikoman at Passover. Basically, this is a completely unnecessary struggle that I have fabricated. No one expects a Jew by Choice to have those experiences, but they seem so integral to everyone else's Jewish identity that I don't know what a Jewish identity should look like without them. I have no guideposts for building a Jewish identity without a Jewish past, starting from scratch. I don't want to wipe away my non-Jewish past, because that has made me who I am and I happen to like who I am. My task this year will be to figure out how to construct a Jewish identity that incorporates my past.
Shana Tova
Happy New Year
