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Kol Tzeddek Reconstructionist Services 5/7/09

Perhaps it is an omen; I have just checked my horoscope online (a fiendish little habit) and discovered that my Tarot card for the day is the star: “You are consciously on the way home in a spiritual sense.” Sometimes these things are right, sometimes they’re just loopy. Today, it is uncanny. I have just returned from attending for the first time services at Kol Tzeddek, an egalitarian reconstructionist congregation in West Philadelphia, lead by a woman rabbi and woman cantor. This monthly service is called “Tot Shabbat” and it is aimed at families with young children because it consists mostly of participatory singing, dancing, and storytelling rather than traditional lead and response prayers. Despite the non-traditional nature of this service, it contained many elements I consider intrinsic to a Jewish service: the reading of the Torah, the recitation of the Sh’mah and the Mourner’s Kaddish. What made me feel at home was the mixture of these things in what I consider a uniquely feminist recipe.
It is not just that the rabbi and cantor were both women, though that helped. It was not just that the focus was on children, though that helped. It was the larger sense of open-ness that made me feel at home. My husband, a convert to Judaism, and I, raised Conservadox, have been on a pilgrimage for as long as I can remember to find a spiritual home. I can remember discussing with him the feeling of community his sister had been able to find a home in her Catholic parish, just as his parents, who had helped to build a new parish in West Chester, Pennsylvania, had found theirs. My brother and his wife seemed to be finding their home place in a forward looking but very Orthodox shul in Boston. Others of our siblings were not as settled, but neither did they seem to be searching. We felt all alone in our quest not just for religion, but for the kind of religion that resonated with our souls and our hearts. We are interested in social justice, but that’s not a religion on its own. We are interested in meditation on the spiritual, but we do not want to sit alone with our legs crossed and our fingers in mudras – we want to share that journey with others. And we are interested in finding a place which is fundamentally welcoming: to women, to converts, to people who question, to people who want to challenge and try doing things differently. This is what I feel I may have found at Kol Tzeddek.
I often see the difference between the Catholicism that my husband grew up with and the Judaism that I grew up with as a difference between prioritizing faith or practice. Practice without faith is hollow and faith without practice is unanchored to the world. Neither my husband nor I conceive of god as a sentient entity, but as some kind of life force. Similarly, neither of us is willing to embrace ritual without examining it, without imbuing it with meaning that resonates with us. We are looking for a home place that both rejects the universalism of Christianity, in its broadest cultural, moral, religious, and social senses, and rejects the elitism and exoticism of Judaism. We want to be part of the cultural and spiritual worlds of the Jewish people, but we don’t wish to fetishize it. This, I feel is a fundamentally feminist and critical quest as well as a spiritual one. Perhaps it is too idealistic a quest. Perhaps there is no perfect home place, but I feel at home among the doubters, the questioners, the let’s-try-it-this-way-and-see-what-happens folks.

I want something wide and vast and i don't know what it is: a new country, a new language, a new mode, a new way of moving my body, of knowing the world, of interacting with people.

I just saw a guy get robbed in the subway. Not the end of the world -- they took his i-pod, scared him a bit, ran off. People came to his defense. I went up and told the teller to call the police. Two black male robbers, one white male victim - so cliche I can't stand it. They were all in their 20's - at first I thought it was just horsing around, or a fight between people who knew each other. Just as I told the teller, the two assailants came running through the turnstiles and I said -- those two guys. I should have stuck my foot out to trip them or something, because the next moment, there was the police officer, hot on their trail (he was young and black, too --- too cliche? he wasn't officer krupke, for god's sake). He shot through the turnstile, muttering -- what they hell did they do? --- and swiveling his head all around. That-a way -- I pointed after them and he shot up the steps after them. Could have caught them - I don't know. I felt like I was in a cartoon. I was the lazy mexican with the giant sombrero and the half empty bottle of tequila - they went that-a way --- too cliche?

I want something expansive. I want a new theory, a new critique, a deconstruction of all the things I am told are not problems. You are too sensitive. They didn't mean any offense. Offense is not the issue.

My sister-in-law works with these women - these tofu and broccoli hating women and it makes her so angry. Did you ever ruin Christmas by telling other little children that Santa doesn't exist? - they demand of her, the lone Jew. Oh, we didn't mean any offense. Why would you want to feel any pain? they demand of her for attempting natural childbirth. Indeed, why would you want to feel anything? Process everything. Just eat your damn hamburgers and don't challenge things. Everyone is male and Christian and white and rich. All men are created equal. Let's all go to the mall.

Caffiene

Cannot concentrate. Comps exam two days away. Fingers twitchy. Time flows like piss from a drunk guy. How did it get to be 1:32? Why did I schedule a playgroup for 3pm? Who is Oedipa Mass, anyway?

an icon that symbolizes hope

My freshmen are writing papers about icons and I told them that the icons have to symbolize something; they can't just be celebrities, but must have some deeper meaning that reflects the values of our society. I was expecting: My icon symbolizes the deep ironic sexual longing of the post-punk feminists. I got: Barack Obama symbolizes change. Ok, sure he does.

So, today, I symbolize hope. Here's a list, just for brevity's sake: i am becoming stronger, unafraid to set limits, unafraid of consequences of following what i know to be true, unafraid to ask for not just what i need but what i want. i have a new job for the spring. i am about to sit down and write a really cool grant letter. my son likes to play hide and seek, float in the bathtub, sing old macdonald, and covered my face with kisses this evening. I ate a lot of vegetables for dinner and loads of fiber. Now i can have ice cream. there is a good chance i won't fail my comp exam and i think my portfolio might be alright. i just submitted a story to a contest. there is some fleeting chance that my house might approach clean this weekend. my sister is coming to visit, i am hosting a party, and i am hosting thanksgiving. my research is so interesting t me.

all of this despite the fact that i've thrown my back out, i can't stop coughing, my car got broken into (and now we have to fix it even though we were about to sell it) and my cell phone was stolen. oh yeah, and, after an exhausting day, i dragged dylan down to old navy to buy a winter coat during thier half off sale (almost over) and they were closed. but hey, we got to listen to his baby music there and back -- hooray! You can never get enough Look at the Monkey.

Fall

This blog is where i get to be banal and cliche, right?

The wind blows and the leaves create ana aerial circus outside the window. Dylan and I watch from the bathroom window of my parents' house and he is more captivated by this than by Sesame Street. We go outside. "Airplane," he says, "Up dere." He points towards the bare trees. We watch a leaf helicopter down. "Fall," I tell him. "Fall," he repeats.

We sit on the carpeted landing of my parents' steps. "Uh-oh!" I tell him, sounding ominous. He squeels, starts to back away. "Uh-oh, uh-oh," I reach towards him, "I have to Squeeeze you!" We grab each other in a tight hug, giggling. He puts his head on my shoulder. We sing Twinkle Twinkle Little Star. I leave out words. He fills them in. We rock back and forth. The leaves whisper to and fro outside, settling, settling. We watch them through the windows by the front door. We rock, we watch, we don't let go of each other. Fall.

My Surfboard

I must be a nester. I just got to my parents' house for the holiday and it's so great when i come here bc i don't have to worry about mopping the floors and i don't care if certain people (ahem!) forget to put their dishes in the sink and also its big and everything works and is clean and easy and, oh yeah, dinner is magically put onto the table without my having to do anything more than say, mom, do you want me to help? oh, you've already done everything. ok. and maybe set the table if I feel generous.

it IS amazing how much time food takes out of my life. The thinking preparing shopping cooking cleaning putting away getting ready for the next day packing lunches cutting snacks wondering what goes with what and picking up those last few ingredients. My mom just had her kitchen redone and so she couldn't cook for 6 weeks. They ate out almost every meal. She's like, wow, i can't believe how much free time i have. so she's been going to yoga. now she's kind of getting back into the swing of things and we'll put her kitchen to the test tomorrow when we cook the holiday chickens. it'll be nice not to have the oven break down on us for once.

still, she was deciding what to cook for dinner tonight and my dad suggested chinese food and she was like, oh, great idea! that never would have happened two months ago. never. i'm glad. i know it's hard for me to pull back and not do stuff --- and that's a lot because of her. and that's a good thing - a compliment i mean. because i think she really taught me how to get stuff done and not be lazy or disorganized. But still, it's also important to know how to relax and i'm glad she seems more able to do that.

He Said

Bikable, mooksh, li-on, hepticopter, want it, Daddy coming, Mommy here, I miss Aunt Barb, monkey, seal, BUS!!!!, baby, mac-a-RO-lee, Dylan swimming, I Dylan, goona agoona, share (and then rip a toy out of some other kids hand), garage sale, I slide down, chocolate, ice-cream, broccoli, Gampa, Atta, My P.J., A-P.J. kissing, meow, meow-meow, titty tat, boobies, my surf board, no baf, wesh, I loyoo, pease, Maryee, Maryee up dere?, Joshua, potty, I keen it, Ashley, Michael, outside!, payground, trash!, rock, button (belly), buttons (channel changer), shockadoo, bless you, sneeze!, hapchee, hush, hello (just want to say ...), nigh-nigh, moon, star, bu-fly, cricket