Thursday, November 12, 2015

Creating/Finding Community, Pt. 2


In August 2014, we moved to Denver where Emet got a job in the Jewish community. We debated whether to live within the eruv or not and decided that it was better to live closer to Emet's school for practical reasons of sharing a car.

We began going to a conservative synagogue. While we weren't exactly excited about the davening, we had become accustomed to services without much ruach (spirit) and thought that it was not bad. We were prompted welcomed by the rabbi and community members. I remember on the first time that we went to this shul, there were a few other adults in our age range (some with young kids), and they were thrilled to chat with us and get us involved.

We became involved with an independent minyan (Minyan Na'aleh), and the first time we went for services, it was in someone's home without a mechitzah; kids were running around or involved in the service, but not bored, and the davening was absolutely beautiful. We met other young adults without kids and some with, and it felt amazing to connect with people who loved and enjoyed davening and accepted us, as a queer couple, wholeheartedly. The minyan met only once a month on Friday nights and a handful of times on Saturday mornings. We loved the community members and the davening, but were sad that it wasn't more consistent.

With the High Holidays approaching, we decided to go to Rosh Hashanah at this conservative synagogue, Kol Nidre with the independent minyan, and Yom Kippur at a conservative synagogue that had alternative services. We had heard about Shir Hadash from a friend of ours who studied with us at Pardes, and we gave it a try. Not only was I blown away by the beauty of the singing, I also enjoyed the rabbi's sermon on inner reflection and change and there were many young people in attendance.

We found out that Shir Hadash met weekly on Saturday mornings, and going to services there became our default Shabbat morning. The rabbis invited us for holidays and Shabbat, and I felt that we had found something similar to a community that we wanted. We also tried the Reconstructionist shul, which had different prayers but was run by a lesbian rabbi and made us feel at home.

At the same time, we started the Community Bet Midrash, which was about six of us young adults in our 20s and 30s who got together once a month to learn texts. It fulfilled a need of learning for us, and we met consistently until summer rolled around. By that time, we also knew that we were moving to Atlanta, and it was harder and harder to stay involved.

Being involved in Denver gave me a taste of what community could be like, but it still wasn't exact. Having Shabbat in our own way was great, and it was interesting to see how different everyone in our friend group celebrated Shabbat. Would we ever find a community that emphasized Shabbat and davening and also embraced us as a couple? I think we were pretty darn close in Denver.

Now in Atlanta, we are still learning, still exploring, and still trying to meeting friends. As it is much bigger of a city than Denver, the advantage is that there are many more synagogues to try, but the disadvantage is that there are many more synagogues to try along with the uncertainty of finding a community of queer Jews in our age range and life place. Even so, we're doing our best. Perhaps in a few more months, I will have a better understanding of where to find what we are looking for.

Creating/Finding Community, Pt 1

I realized my posting scheduled has slowed. Things are fairly busy once again. We recently celebrated our first anniversary (ok like nearly 3 months ago now). I can't believe it's already been a year. Where has the time gone?

For a throwback to our engagement and wedding videos, click the links!

We also moved to Atlanta at the end of the sumer. We were incredibly lucky to meet with our teacher Yaffa Epstein over Labor Day weekend when she was in town for Limmud SE+Atlanta, where we discussed many of the points I'm going to touch on here.

One thing we've struggled with is finding a supportive, understanding, and welcoming community. We really took Pardes for granted. We didn't know that when we returned to the "real" world that we would struggle to find the community where we fit - where we passionately enjoyed the davening and found young Jews as engaged as we were.

We tried out at least three synagogues when living in LA last year for three months. Two reform, one conservative. The rabbi who married us worked at a large non-denominational but Reform-leaning synagogue. She was/is amazing and when we met, she understood the place we hold religiously. She listened attentively as we talked about how difficult it is to keep Shabbat in the US and really empathized with us. The synagogue was more than an hour away from my mother-in-law's home, so we only went to services once or twice, and even though the singing was lovely, the davening was not exactly what we like.

We also tried a conservative synagogue and attempted another reform synagogue. It was an eye-opening experience, seeing how different services can be, both between denominations and even at different synagogues of the same denomination. When we went to the conservative synagogue, people were very friendly, but the age of the congregation was much older.  While we generally enjoyed this service, we wanted to try out another synagogue for the sake of it, and the following week, we went to the reform synagogue nearby to home. Because we had enjoyed the reform services we had been to (in Israel and at our synagogue downtown), we thought it would be a good option to try. I cannot tell you how terrible the service was for us. There was a lot of English, which wouldn't have been so bad if the service flowed better.  Every two lines, it seemed, we went to the next page. While there was a cantor with a guitar, no one else was singing, either because they didn't know the prayers or didn't care. After 30 minutes, we couldn't take it anymore and walked out.

I felt so terrible about leaving a service because it had no value for me. This is Shabbat. Shabbat services have become a joyous event for me, and I look forward to them, but I could not understand how anyone could have felt connected to Shabbat and Judaism for that matter at this service. I understand why the Pew report indicates that fewer and fewer people go to synagogue or feel connected to Judaism religiously. If I went to a synagogue like this, I wouldn't feel connected either. And this makes me so sad because religious Judaism is so beautiful. It's not even about going to to services. It's about learning our heritage and discussing texts and recognizing that our ancestors had intense conversations, some of which have never ended. This service was such a contrast to the other services we went to - our own shul in downtown LA and the conservative shul.

What I find is that as we move forward after leaving a place of study like Pardes is that these other aspects of Judaism are frequently not present when we go to some synagogues for services. I admit, I didn't grow up knowing about Rashi or Rambam or why any of these people and their thoughts are important, but I am glad I had the opportunity to learn now. I'm glad I can recognize how our history has contributed to the religious services we recite today and how they change with time, but also how many of them stay the same.

Emet and I fully acknowledge that we were so incredibly spoiled at Pardes. There was an instant community of people who are interested in Judaism, in learning, in religious thought, and yet are open to different modes of practice and beliefs. Our modern orthodox teachers asked Emet and I so many questions and embraced us for exactly who we are, a religious queer couple. Our identities may not fit with everything that religious Judaism says, but we are so blessed that we had the opportunity to learn, especially at an institution that really doesn't care where you came from or where you're going, only that you are willing to learn.

In my next post, I'll talk about the community we found in Denver and what we're looking for now that we live in Atlanta.

Friday, July 31, 2015

Back to the Beginning

I've started to become aware of the changing of the seasons, the cycle of Jewish life. Here we are again close to the beginning, when we start the Torah over again. 

I love the beginning of the Torah. There are so many interesting stories that you can get immersed in. The passions, the fights, the sorrow. There are so many engaging commentaries and discussions to have in the beginning.

Rabbi Sack's most recent parsha of the week email asked, why do we begin the Torah with stories and not law? He goes on to answer that Rashi says it is to illustrate the Jewish people’s right to their land. However, the Netziv (R. Naftali Zvi Yehudah Berlin) says it is to teach us about how the patriarchs were ethical, even with people who were strangers, which is why Genesis is named “the book of the upright.” We gain valuable insights into human behavior and ethical behavior from reading the colorful stories at the beginning. In my opinion, it's the old "show, don't tell" that is much more interesting. We see what happens with certain characters, which influences our view of morality. Even if we are told later specific rules on behavior, it's more interesting, and I'm more likely to remember, the stories about a specific people than the dryness of the law.

In the last few weeks, maybe months, we haven't read the weekly parsha as much as we did at the beginning of the year. The latter books are filled with dry laws. While there can be some interesting discussions, most of the time, frankly, I'm bored. It's not that interesting to read the details about what the High Priest should wear or how to build the mishkan. 

But then we come back to the beginning, and all of a sudden, I want relearn how HaShem made the earth, what kinds of obstacles the first Israelites encountered and how they dealt with them. I want to hear about moral dilemmas, ethics, and human mistakes. We learn a lot from the beginning of the Torah, and each year I want to come back to it and relearn what I've forgotten.

Perhaps this is why we are supposed to continue learning year after year. There are bits and pieces we forget and then remember. Something speaks to you one year that you didn't realize before. It's a constant journey. I remember going to a family for Shabbat one week, and the father was quizzing the sons on the parsha of the week. At each age, they had a different understanding of the same story. As we grow older, the stories become more complex as we recognize our world around us in new ways, as we interact with others in increasingly unique ways that color our experience and personality.

Each year, there are always new lessons to learn, and it rekindles my love of Torah.

Happy Tu b'Av!

Tu b'Av, the 15th day of Av, is the Day of Love, similar to Valentine's Day. In honor of the day, we want to share that our story has been featured on Huffington Post's Gay Voices blog!

Thanks to MASA for the connection and opportunity. Enjoy!

Wednesday, May 6, 2015

The Next Generation


Emet and I had the chance to speak with a group of students at a local high school a few weeks ago about our experience being Jewish and queer. The group was comprised of the Jewish group on campus, as well as the queer group on campus, so while many of the students were Jewish, there were a handful that weren't, and while many of the students were queer, there were just as many that weren't.

One thing that kept coming up was our struggle to be comfortable in our own skin. Is it possible to be both Jewish and queer? Is it possible to feel like we belong in both communities?

As we've written before, this is a constant source of discussion for us. On the one hand, we love Jewish ritual and culture. It's not only something we love. It's deep in our blood and soul. We couldn't be us without being Jewish. On the other hand, we don't always feel connected to the people we meet in the Jewish community. There's something missing sometimes. Even though the community is filled with authentic allies who truly care about the issues, sometimes there is a disconnect between our experience and a true understanding. Sometimes we just want to hang out with another queer couple who 'gets it.'

Back in February, we went to the Creating Change conference here in Denver, and of course it wasn't perfect. The diversity of people in the Jewish caucus groups I went to was varied, and I didn't relate to everyone's experience. At the same time, when speaking with some of the queer Jews, they understood, even if we approached Judaism differently.

Back at the high school, we touched on many aspects of how it's actually harder for us in certain Jewish circles and some queer circles, but we're trying our best to find out where we fit or to make the community that works for us.

At the end of our discussion, we spent some time chatting with the director of the Jewish groups, and it really surprised me that he said he's struggling with many of the same things in the Jewish community. Where does he fit in? Some people in his community observe one way and many others a different way. He has struggled finding allies and people who have commonalities with him. I would categorize him as Modern Orthodox, but I actually don't know, and it was interesting to hear that he struggled a lot, too.

A few weeks ago, we hosted a few friends for Shabbat, and the same topic came up. How do we as Jewish young adults engage in the community? Is the community right for us? What could make it better? I thought I was alone in these doubts, but actually, it seems we are all struggling with it. How do we become comfortable in the Jewish community, when it appears many people observe one way or believe one thing about Israel or aren't open-minded about certain topics? I don't have the answers now.

Leaving the high school, I kept thinking how different life is for these youth who are coming out earlier and earlier. In 10 years, will the Jewish community be better equipped to engage them on a level that works for them? Can I be a part of that change? Time will only tell.

Thursday, April 9, 2015

Sometimes It's Hard

As someone who tries to be more observant, sometimes it's just hard. I wonder if other people struggle with this, and I know they do, but it just seems so easy for some people.

We choose to spend Passover with family. It just doesn't feel the same without them. But at the same time, neither of our families are as observant as we are. I'm not faulting anyone. It's just the way it is. This means that their homes aren't as kosher as we'd like and they don't keep Shabbat how we do. This complicates things. During Pesach, even if we choose to avoid chametz, they won't necessarily avoid it, so there's bread, not only in the freezer, but there's a bagel being made for a child (it smells so delicious just out of the toaster), hot dog buns with our meal, or a request to eat out because we're all tired of the seder leftovers.

It's hard. Do you put your foot down and say no? Or do you carefully do your best, knowing you'll make a mistake? You can attempt to eat gluten free at a restaurant, but forget that something might be breaded. Or as a vegetarian, I'll be extremely limited because many of my food options are taken away during Pesach. We met some friends at a kosher restaurant in LA, and they had no vegetarian options. Seriously? None? Just a smattering of pickled and spicy vegetable side dishes.

I'm too hard on myself. I'm doing the best I can. Family is more important than halacha in my opinion, but I know not everyone takes that opinion. We are more flexible in our observance, and some people might judge us for that. But you know what? We are also a queer couple and some will definitely say there's no way we can be observant. We do the best we can in the way we can for what is meaningful to us. Isn't it all about meaning anyway?

Friday, March 6, 2015

Honor Your Father and Mother

Each morning, when I pray Shacharit (the morning service), there is a line at the very beginning that I ponder every single day.

אֵֽלּוּ דְבָרִים שֶׁאָדָם אוֹכֵל
:פֵּרוֹתֵיהֶם  בָּעוֹלָם הַזֶּה  וְהַקֶּֽרֶן קַיֶּֽמֶת לָעוֹלָם הַבָּא, וְאֵֽלּוּ הֵן
 כִּבּוּד אָב וָאֵם,  וּגְמִילוּת חֲסָדִים,  וְהַשְׁכָּמַת  בֵּית הַמִּדְרָשׁ
 שַׁחֲרִית וְעַרְבִית, וְהַכְנָסַת אוֹרְחִים, וּבִקּוּר חוֹלִים, וְהַכְנָסַת
כַּלָּה, וּלְוָיַת הַמֵּת, וְעִיוּן  תְּפִלָּה, וַהֲבָאַת שָׁלוֹם בֵּין אָדָם
 לַחֲבֵרוֹ , וְתַלְמוּד תּוֹרָה כְּנֶֽגֶד כֻּלָּם

These are the things whose fruits we eat in this world
but whose full reward awaits us in the World to Come:
honoring your father and mother,
acts of kindness,
arriving early at the house of study morning and evening,
hospitality to strangers,
visiting the sick
helping the needy bride,
attending to the dead,
devotion in prayer,
and bringing peace between people - 
but the study of Torah is equal to them all.

I read this passage every day when I pray, and everyday I think about honoring my father and mother, but as a future parent, I also think about what our children will say. How will they view the line "honor your father and mother" when Emet and I aren't those roles, per se? Will they overlook it, as just another text that doesn't adequately reflect their experiences as Jews? Will they acknowledge its existence, but still say it because it's part of tradition? Will they insert their own words? We could so easily include "הורים," the word for parents, which doesn't indicate gender. Maybe that word wasn't in existence yet when the prayer was written - or in this case the Talmud, as this section comes from Shabbat 127a.

Recently, I finally got my hands on a copy of Keep Your Wives Away from Them: Orthodox Women, Unorthodox Desires, edited by Miryam Kabakov. One of the vignettes discusses lesbian visibility in Jewish texts. Like the absence of women's experiences in Jewish texts, queer women tend to be absent as well, because let's be honest, the ones writing the stories were men. They didn't always know what was going on in the women's spaces. Event so, queer women were there. They didn't have a label, like we utilize today, but with the inclusion of stories about "women rubbing against each other" by Maimonides, it can be assumed that women were loving other women.

I say this because I know that even though the text disregards my own family and doesn't see my family, we exist and we are working to show people that we exist. We may not be seen by everyone, but we know we are here, and we are doing our best to be visible and utilize tradition in a way that makes sense for us.

Reading through the English translation in my Koren siddur, I was surprised to see that Koren translated אָב וָאֵם as parents, not father and mother. This gives me hope that perhaps we are more visible than I thought.

Shabbat Shalom!

Thursday, February 12, 2015

Being Invisible

As a queer woman, I'm invisible.
As a Jew, I'm invisible.
As a queer Jew, I'm invisible.

I spent years trying to "look" queer.
I cut off all my hair.
I refused to wear skirts or dresses.
I didn't shave.
I didn't wear makeup.
I hung out with (mostly) only queer people.
I was a leader in the queer organization on campus.
I volunteered with queer organizations after college.

I spent years trying to "look" Jewish.
I went to synagogue.
I was involved with the Jewish young adults organization.
I wore a חי necklace.
I volunteered with Jewish organizations after college.
I lived in Israel.

I'm an active queer Jew.
I go to synagogue.
I go to the queer bar.
I am involved with a Jewish study group.
I go to Shabbat dinners.
I openly discuss my queerness with friends and family.
I cover my hair.

But none of this matters.
I'm still invisible.
At the Creating Change conference, I covered my hair, but the only way people could identify me as Jewish was when I was standing next to Emet, who wore a kippah and tzitzit. When I'm out in public, I'm only passing as not-queer unless someone asks about my relationship.

I felt frustration during the conference because while I might be seen as queer, I'm not seen as Jewish, and when I'm seen as Jewish, I'm not necessarily seen as queer. The intersections of my identity are not evident, and instead, I feel invisible. I'm not sure how to NOT be invisible because I'm being true to myself and my identity, but I was frustrated. I am frustrated.

Even so, I'm me, and I can do the best I can to figure out how to be both, even if no one else sees me. I see myself.

Wednesday, January 21, 2015

My Recommendations to the Kiruv Movement as a Queer Jew Who Wanted to be Observant

During my AmeriCorps term three years ago, I was already on my journey to become more observant. I didn't know a whole lot about observant Judaism at the time, but I was going regularly to a Reform synagogue within walking distance to my apartment and teaching 5th and 6th graders about Jewish values and social justice. I also started getting involved with the Jewish community, and I met a rabbi who taught the Maimonides course at one of the local colleges. I jumped at the chance to learn more and have the chance to learn in Israel - both for free.

During the course of the spring, I learned a lot about observant Jewish thought and practice and started to understand more about observant Judaism than I had ever known.

At the same time, I developed a relationship with the rabbi and his wife and visited a lot for Shabbat and holidays. The rabbi helped me get into a Jewish learning program from women in Israel, and I even caught up with him once in Israel when I was deciding whether to stay and study or return to the US.

Credit to Chany Crystal

It turned out that a classmate of mine at Pardes was also close to this rabbi, and he outed me to the rabbi about my engagement. I'm not blaming him for outing me, as it would have happened eventually.

After that, though, I didn't hear from the rabbi again, except once in a mass email when the men praying in the synagogue in Har Nof were attacked.

I have grown to love Judaism in a way I never did before, but kiruv gave me a bad taste in my mouth, and I think there are a lot of ways queer Jews and kiruv can interact - all positively - and these are the ways I think that kiruv could improve.

1.There is a Difference Between Observant and Haredi.

When I started learning about observant Judaism, I didn't know that I was really learning about being Haredi. Following all the laws and all the observances to a T, it is all or nothing, and I remember discussing that quite a bit with women I met during my time in Israel in Haredi communities. I am observant, but not separatist. I believe that Jews should interact with modern society and with non-Jews because if we are to separate truly, how can we educate the world on who we are and what we do? I don't follow every law in halacha. For me, it's more important to use Judaism as a guide to seek meaning in this world, and that is just as "observant" as someone who follows every law. As a queer Jew, I'm blessed to have the ability to see what meaning is to me and how halacha can help me find meaning, but it is in no way the Be All and End All of being or doing Jewish.

2. There are Queer Children of Observant Families.

When kiruv ignores the fact that there are queer children in observant families, it is doing harm to these families. I've read many stories of parents who are observant and have queer children and have a hard time with their communities because the synagogue won't include them or their rabbi isn't accepting. Omitting these stories harms families and harms communities. It makes people think that observant Jews don't have queers among them, which we all know is completely false. If our goal is to bring more Jews to observant Judaism, the kiruv movement is going to have to acknowledge that queers exist.

3.  Being Observant is not in Conflict with Being Queer.

There are many ways to be observant, and there are many ways to be queer. They don't have to be exclusive, but kiruv only allows for one kind of Judaism.

I have learned so much about Judaism and how I want to live my Jewish life with my partner. A lot of that was sparked by my experience with kiruv, but it only got me so far. I'm glad I had the opportunity, but I also know that I didn't want to lead a Haredi life.

There are so many things that we can learn from observant Judaism, but that doesn't mean that everyone has to follow it exactly as you do. Instead of dropping someone once you realize they won't exactly be the Jew you want them to be, it is better to continue that relationship because we can both learn a lot from the other. I think after all this, I'm disappointed that I will never be seen as an observant Jew because I'm queer. As someone who keeps kosher and Shabbat, as someone who strives to continue learning as much as possible, and as someone who has taken on head covering and modest dress, I would disagree.

Friday, January 2, 2015

Relationship Fun on a Budget

Emet and I spent so much time at the beginning of our relationship talking about real issues. Finances, children, health, and goals. These are the things are really matter in a relationship, but a relationship cannot be comprised solely of these parts. Love and affection and enjoying each other's company is also a part of the relationship. Growing together. Doing things together and apart. Growing as individuals. These are just as important.

Emet and I have made a commitment to each other to have new experiences together as frequently as possible, and we are lucky that we've had so many chances. A lot of the activities we do are low-cost, as we are living on a budget, but every once in a while, we splurge, and it's makes all the difference.

These activities and others keep us excited. Experiencing new things TOGETHER is a must. These are just a few of the activities we have done as a couple. We have many more items on our list of things to do. For one of Emet's birthdays, I made her a Jar of Dates. Using popsicle sticks, I wrote three tiers - at-home activities, cheap dates, and dates needing more planning and more money. We are slowly making our way through them. Obviously, there are more at-home and cheap date ideas, but we've been fortunate to do some of the more effort-intensive items as well.



Low-cost

  1. Go walking. Emet and I love to take walks. In Israel, we walked along the Rakevet (old train tracks converted into a walking trail) a few nights a week, even when it was cold. It's harder here in Denver with the snow, but we just bundle up and bear it. We feel better afterwards, and it gives us a chance to chat without the distractions of the computer. It's also a GREAT Shabbat afternoon activity if it's too late to nap!
  2. Draw portraits of each other.
  3. Write a list of what you want in your future home.
  4. Write a bucket list (places to travel, classes to take, things to learn).
  5. Craft Night
  6. Cook together/Bake together
  7. Museum free days. These end up being on Shabbat, usually, so we can't go, but if you can, it's a great way to go to museums!
  8. Have dinner with friends.
  9. Study together. We started a Beit Midrash with some friends, so once a month, we get together and learn texts. It's a great way to get some learning in.
  10. Go on free factory tours. When my parents visited, we went to a whiskey distillery, a brewery, and a tea factory. There are many more brewery tours, and if you are into drinking beer, find all the tours you can do. They often have free samples afterwards.
  11. Play music together. We have a cuatro (a four-stringed guitar from Venezuela) and a ukulele. We aren't very good, but it's fun to play around with them.
  12. Volunteer! We are planning to volunteer at a queer conference coming to Denver in February. We also volunteer for the minyan we are a part of, and that keeps us busy!

More Money Involved

  1. Shows, performances, and sports events, such as the circus, the symphony, the opera, a Colorado Avalanche game, Disney on Ince, etc. You can frequently get discounts for these if you are a teacher or have a student ID. We were lucky to acquire free tickets to most of these!
  2. Go to a new restaurant.
  3. Visit a museum. I couldn't wait to see "Cartier in the 20th Century" at the Denver Art Museum, which ended up being amazing. At the same time, we walked around the museum, and looked at textiles and some other art. The museum had a discount for couples going in the evening, so we got cheaper tickets!
  4. Get cheap massages from a massage school. While you won't get a couples massage, it is still a decent massage for a half or quarter the price.
  5. Take a class together. We took a business class together, which ended up not being as interesting as we thought, but I want to take a dance class or a cooking class in the future.
  6. Go dancing! We go to a gay country bar whenever we get the chance. They even provide a free drink ticket if you participate in the dance class earlier in the night.
  7. Travel. Before we started working, we made an effort to travel as much as we could. Now that we are working, it's more difficult, but we can make time. Having a three or four day weekend trip is just as nice and oftentimes better and less stressful than a one week or two week vacation.
What's missing from the list? Anything you want to add?