Reading Kant: it slowly becomes clear

My computer has an open book in front of it: A Cambridge collection Immanuel Kant essays on religion and rationality. I wouldn’t advise using that title to look up the book, although it’d likely come up, even though I’ve shortened and mangled the title. It’s open because I’m supposed to be writing an outline of this reading for a class. We have to write 3. I should have written 2 while we were reading Job, because now the pressure is on. Thankfully, there is no grading that occurs on these outlines. Because Kant! can you imagine? of all the things to try to understand, I believe that Kant is low down on the list.

I’ve read the essay a total of 7 times now. It’s slowly becoming clear to me. There is reason in Kant. Well, of course, this guy is all about reason. I remember when I first read him intensely. I was in this incredible class at Amherst called “Political Obligations”. The class was brilliant and filled with Amherst republicans. In fact, the professor was radically conservative and notorious. I felt, at the time, that it was the perfect reality check antidote after all the Smith College leftiness.  That class was the one at college that left me feeling at sea. I knew I would never succeed, solely because the professor was brilliant at his arguments and they were the complete opposite of my opinions. But, the guy made me think. And Kant still does.

Kant does not help me clarify my thoughts. But, he is clear enough that after multiple readings, I finally get his drift.

This week may be a clarifying week for me, Kant’s essay aside. I’m heading off to Philadelphia to visit RRC on Wednesday morning. I’m nervous and excited. I’m nervous about the logisitics. I’ve never visited Philly and I literally don’t know where I’m headed. Of course, I’m a pretty savvy traveller and will figure it out before I leave. I’m nervous about the logisitics of getting there late, which will probably happen due to transportation lengths and leaving early. I decided, when booking my flight, on being sane in my expectations. I’m leaving at 9 instead of at 7. And on Saturday, I’m taking a 5PM flight instead of one that arrives at 11PM. I am trying my darndest to stay healthy through this quarter.

I’m excited about finally getting to see this place that I’ve known about for so long. I’m looking forward to seeing some Smith alums (there’s even another prospective who went to smith!) and one of my former co-workers. I’m excited to see another place, even if the schedule looks pretty busy. I’m ripe for a new little adventure. But, moreover, I’m looking forward to seeing what I think: will my thoughts be clarified and/or calmed? I’m hoping so.

 

Leaving Israel: a post that meanders

Pardes has ended. Tomorrow, Friday, at midnight, I will fly back to the U.S. I wanted to write a quick post, that will hopefully be bookended on one side with a more reflective post when I have the time and space to reflect.

As many of you know, Israel is not a place I longed to visit. I came here, because of Pardes, somewhat reluctantly. Knowing that I would hate the weather (I’m a northerner through and through). Knowing that the people, the Israelis, would have personalities that would grate against me and offend and possibly even scare me with their aggression. I had no particular sentimental passion about the idea of the “Jewish homeland”, in fact, after the paper I wrote last school year, any seed of Zionist ideology still lurking in my brain was erased by disturbed disgust. (I believe that Israel should exist as a Jewish state, I just don’t identify with Zionism).

When I got here it was hot. The people were aggressive. The apartment I am living in was in a state of filth. And I was tired, still being affected by my newly diagnosed condition (and jet lagged). After six weeks, I’m beginning to see how I will tolerate living here for a year if things (yet unveiled to all) go according the the plan. The assets of a strong Anglo community are great. The body adjusts to the heat (although just barely!). The legs adjust to the hills–a good thing.The eyes adjust to seeing the soldiers with guns and the frum (orthodox) with their long sleeves and various forms of dress.

Pardes itself was just wonderful. I had occasionally spouts of uncomfortable feeling about the orthodox bent that comes with attending a halachically observant institution. But, you find your place. You discover a chevruta (study partner) in your classes that will meld or challenge your belief systems. It’s about discovery and flexibility. I am more aware in ways I think I don’t even understand now. I have an awareness of halakha, of the viewpoint of the Orthodox. And of the challenges of Jews being Jews everywhere in the world because of the great diversity of experience, especially in how that translates to explanation and education of the outside world. I was profoundly affected by learning in a pluralistic community where I felt free to grow and learn without self-consciousness. Sometimes, I felt awkward or weird or guilty about deciding not to daven (pray) in the egalitarian minyan, even though it is not my regular tradition and I feel better having more unstructured time. There were occasions when I felt strange not keeping Shabbat or eating in a non-kosher restaurant, even though I don’t regularly keep shabbat or kosher. So, the pressure was there.

I’m sitting here in my room in the German Colony, Jerusalem both excited to return to Madison, where the Pride fest will be attended on Saturday night and Sunday, where I will not have invitations to Shabbat lunch or seudat shlishi (3rd meal), and curious as to what it will mean to not be in a place where it is assumed that of course everyone will be walking to shul or eating a shabbas meal or lunch or seuda shlishi. Where after Shabbat ends on Saturday night, the streets come alive with families, singles, teens, and seniors. Where you still see small children eating ice cream outside Aldo at midnight. I wonder what that will feel like. Will it feel normal? will there be a feeling of loss?

The most exciting/interesting/lovely aspect of my Jerusalem experience was the people. I met such incredible people. And what I liked most was the lack of pressure. We’d eat dinner or hang out. But, we were all temporary. We all say good bye and if we see each other again, it will be with pleasure. There was such an interesting crowd. I was happy to be a part of them for 6 weeks. And I’m excited to maintain my Chicago friendships, which will hopefully translate into Shabbat dinners and shul hopping around the city.

having it both ways

One of the great things about being here at Pardes in Jerusalem is the insta-community you enter. Much like summer camp, but less intense. We’re in classes a lot, which limits the during-the-day friendship sort of interaction to our 2 breaks–morning and lunch. Instead it’s after school and Shabbat. Shabbat can be intensely busy and social. Some shabbats, I have been to dinner, lunch, and seudat shlishit (third meal, which is usually cold salads). After all that walking (no busses in Jerusalem on Shabbat) and socializing I’m ready for the weekend. But school starts again on Sunday. So, no hypothetical “weekend”. The most weekend you get is on Friday. Friday, though, tends to be a day of cleaning, shopping, and cooking–no matter if you are hosting or providing potluck dishes.

Often, I’ve been able to strike a balance between the social carnival and the quiet independence of being “alone”. Alone is quotes because I’m living with 2 other people in a bedroom the size of my college dormroom. But, I’ve still felt busy and surrounded with people.

This Friday-Saturday has been a perfect combination of alone time and social time. Yesterday, Friday, I ran a few quick errands in the morning before packing a daypack and heading to the Central Bus station. There, I caught a bus to Tel Aviv. I haven’t traveled alone in Israel. And I didn’t have a city map, but I did have a guide book with bus routes penciled in by yours truly.

My destination was the Tel Aviv Art Museum. I first visited this art museum for the first time when I was 13, in Israel on a trip with my grandparents. It was, as far as I remember, the first time I visited an art museum and most certainly, the first time I had seen modern art in a museum. I was wowed. And excited to find art that I liked. As most of you know, this did not cause me to suddenly love art–do art history in college or take up art as a hobby. But, I developed a healthy appreciation that is manifested in occasional art museum visits.

Once again, I truly enjoyed my visit to the museum. Of course, now, I’ve been to several museums in the U S and Europe. However, I felt different about my visit to the TA museum. After suffering through numerous exhibits of crucifixes and Christ iconography and symbolism it was refreshing to leave that behind. The exhibits I saw were all different and interesting, and even historic. I saw an exhibit of art created by Eli Shamir. The series of paintings that I saw were portraits and self portraits of Shamir’s neighbors and family in a small Israeli village. Shamir returned to the village to live after a life away. It was all very beautiful and fascinating. I especially liked when Shamir would create self-portraits of him painting portraits.

My other favorite exhibit was called “Fragmented Mirror: Exhibition of Jewish Artists, Berlin, 1907.” This was a collection of works shown in 1907 in Berlin. My favorite piece was not a work of art but a letter, where someone wrote something to this effect “I am not sure that art created by Jews is Jewish art but I am willing to give you permission to exhibit wherever you wish.” This letter cuts to the crux of a universal problem. What makes something Jewish and what does that mean?  Someone else wrote (on the wall) that the Jewish nose was the expression of emotion in Jewish art in that time. I found that interesting to think about, especially since shortly thereafter (well within the next 40 years) the Jewish nose became a source of negative identity and critical humor.

After my museum visit I had a little trouble figuring out how to get to my next destination. I needed a map. Eventually, though I found the right bus that would take me to Nachalot Benjamin. Nachalot Benjamin is a craft festival that is put on every Tuesday and Friday. It was very very warm there (Tel Aviv is hotter and more humid than Jerusalem). But, it was also fun to walk around a look at what the artists were creating. After a brief visit to the booths (I am not much of a consumer) I found a bus back to the station and took another bus back to Jerusalem. I felt so very independent, making my way around a city without understanding all the street signs (and the bus drivers don’t speak english as well as the ones in Jerusalem). It was also nice to travel without someone else’s complaints, anxieties, and demands. With someone else around, I wouldn’t have stood for 10 minutes examining a bus route map before taking action. But instead, I did, and eventually decided to try the other side of the street. I also couldn’t have made it through the museum without feeling like I was waiting for someone or needing to occasionally explain my actions. It was great!

I arrived home with a few hours to spare before Shabbat. I was glad to have some time to relax and cut the fruit I was contributing to the dinner I planned on attending. And off I went. I left unfolded laundry on my bed figuring that I’d be back at a reasonable hour (in the summer, Shabbat dinners don’t usually begin until after 8). However, after an evening of really interesting and fun conversation, I had one of my latest nights yet: after 2AM. But the conversation was great. I enjoyed the company. In short, I relished the community after a day of independent travel.

Being in Jerusalem: a positive

One of of the best parts of the “Jerusalem experience” is the plethora of prayer options, even just in the German Colony. I’ve tried to take advantage of doing some shul shopping while here. I used to do more shul shopping in Chicago, but only when I had parterns-in-crime. After my co-workers moved away, that stopped.

But here, lots of people are interested in trying out new things. I was disappointed because I wanted to check out the “alternative” minyan, Kedem. But, I got sick and missed the last Saturday morning service. I have checked out the Progressive synagogue, but both experiences have been unusual, so I’m going again tonight. (once I was sick and once was the Gan dedication).

I’ve also attended the Reconstructionist Minyan, which is monthly. That was a really nice experience, especially after feeling fish-out-of-the-water experiences at Pardes where it is normatively “halakhic”. And then, for erev Tish b’av I attended a renewal service. The egalitarian options I haven’t explored are “conservative” or masorti.

I feel privileged to have these opportunities. And, if there’s something I’ll miss about Jerusalem, it would be the access to these explorations–with buddies!

Chag Sameach Pesach! Happy Passover!

It’s begun. My favorite holiday of the year. A celebration of freedom and a recollection of oppression. My fondest seder memories are of Smith, of course, where I labored, sophomore and senior year, for hours in the weeks preceeding the holidy in the basement graphic design lab in Seeley, creating and digitzing the Smith Hagaddah. That is where I felt closest to the holiday and where I began to cherish its existence. My first year at Smith, I merely contributed a portion to the zine-like collaboration that turned into the Hagaddah. But, after that year, when the wonderful seniors had graduated, I aspired to make it easy to change out different sections, to reflect the annual themse. So, I digitized it, using first Pagemaker and then InDesign. It was a difficult, yet fun and intense experience for my partner-in-crime, M and I. The product was beautiful.

This year, I only went to one seder. It was the family seder, where we use a 1950s version of the Union Hagaddah. This is an old-school reform document with all the thous and thys in place. In years past, I’ve felt offended by its content. But, after I changed the gendered language when spoke last year, one of the parents finally explained why we still read from it. I love history, especially Jewish history and family histor. So, now, since I understand that it is a family tradition, a historic re-enactment, if you will, of our family’s seders, that happen the same way each year, I am accepting of its gendered language. And while we read from the book, I think about how far we’ve come.

Our seders have changed over the years of my memory. Sometimes, we’d have them in Florida. And some years, my immediate family couldn’t make it to the big Chicago family seder, and we’d have it in whatever small city  in Wisconsin we lived in, with a hodge-podge of other families who also chose not to travel. We used to have them at my aunt’s old house, and then her new house. And now that she’s older and tired, her daughter hosts the seder. We used to have brisket and chicken. Now, we have chicken and steak from the grill. We always have our cousin (parent’s age) who makes up a prayer to bless the egg, because no one ever claims to remember how to say it in Hebrew (although this year someone did). We sing out of tune. We compete on “who knows one”. And of course, the youngest look for the affikomen. What’s different is how old everyone is. We have some babies that didn’t come. But the children looking for the affikomen numbered 2, and they were in 4th and 5th grade. I can now have reasonable, non-awkward conversations with my college-aged cousins (I’m second oldest in our generation). Although I did regale  them of stories of our first family reunions, when they were babies and toddlers.

And even though I was tired from the crazy bus to train ride that it took to get out to the suburbs after a day of classes and a week of non-stop reading, the seder was fun. And it reminded me how I miss and love my extended family.

weekend

• This weekend my sister came to visit. It wasn’t the most amazing visit of all times. Snow kept being dumped, all of Saturday which made it NO FUN. We tried to go to the Museum of Science and Industry. It was a very wet process. And, we discovered, after wandering around, that growing up going to the museum made it a rather boring adult experience. And there weren’t any special exhibits to look at.  But, at least January is free month (there) so it was worth the price
• I don’t usually do a friends thing for my birthday, since it falls between Christmas and New Years. But this year, I decided it was about time. The last “birthday” celebration I remember (with friends) is 8th grade and I threw a summer party. This time, I invited my closest Chicago friends and went out to my favorite Logan Square Mexican spot (El Cid II). There were 7 of us, only 1 person +husband ended up sickly  (sadly). First, I have to comment on the number. For me, this is amazing (not that I don’t have more than 7 friends, but after the last 2 years of living in Madison where I couldn’t have invited more than my sister and her friends to a party, this is amazing! and 3 of those friends are Smithies (that came, there would have been 4!), and my sister was there. But still. I was so grateful and it reminded me of some life positives (which in the rush of grad school stress have been slipping away). Back to the “party”. My question is why did I choose to do this? I feel strange getting so much attention, in fact it makes me want to crawl under the table (and I probably make horrible faces). It was fun to get everyone together though–these people that I love. And then, I feel guilty for them paying for my meal because we were almost all poor grad students.  But it was fun. I need to remember that. And I didn’t crawl under the table when attention was put on me (I don’t get this feeling with family, oddly). And we had yummy food and good company.
• At religious school today we went to a Catholic church. It was quite the experience for all of us. I was surprised how strongly ideological the teachers were, especially when interacting with my (very left, liberal) students. Of course we had differing opinions. But, still. It was, though, a fascinating and memorable experience.

Considering Coming Out Day (belated)

Coming out day was last week. I didn’t feel like recognizing the holiday like I did last year. But, on further thought, I decided to mention it. I’ve had a couple funny experiences lately. If you don’t know me in person you may not realize, but I definitely blend in. I don’t “look gay”. It’s kind of ironic, because one of the things I liked best about Smith was that I could be a lesbian without wearing a wife beater and baseball cap. I could be my, relatively adrogynous (in the lesbian spectrum) self without awkwardness. I’ve often aspired (mentally) to meet the stereotypes to be easily identified if nothing else. And in my own private coming out ceremony at the age of 16, I cut off my hair.

I let it grow back during senior year. And keep it short and easily maintained, because I don’t like a fuss, but not short short any longer.

I was at band rehearsal a couple of weeks ago. My two seatmates are gay men. We were talking about one of our conductors (a woman). And I said something. And E turns to me and asks “are you gay?” and I said yes. And he said “really, I didn’t think so”.  2 weeks pass, and I have the same conversation with my other bandmate. He says “no really! You don’t look gay!” And I turned to him and said , “Yeah, I like to blend in.” Which is a half-truth. The whole truth is that I am who I am. I dress how I dress. And I look the way I look. It doesn’t change my sexual orientation.

It reminds me, as always, of the truism that you never stop coming out. I haven’t yet. Sometimes, though, with my non-Jewish looks and midwestern mannerisms, I don’t just come out as a lesbian, I come out as Jew, too. And I get the same response: “You don’t look Jewish! and your hair is almost blond!”

Strangely enough

Today at Religious School, one of the rabbis visited the class to round out our lesson on what it means to be Jewish (what Judaism is). He took a bag of Cheez-its for a snack before he talked, because they’re addictive, he said. I sat down at the front of the U of tables, he pulled up in between a student and madrichah. While I listened to him talk, especially about his ideas about god and religious acts, I thought about rabbis. I thought that if I could talk that–be skeptical about god and not believe in the sanctity of religious acts for the sake of themselves (if that makes sense) and believe that being a Jew is about action–doing the right thing, working towards justice, etc.–I could be a rabbi too. I always thought that I wasn’t spiritual enough, religious enough.

Strange.

Saturday…

Well, I missed out on “the Friday Five” once again. This is happening a lot this summer. So, here’s an update (we’ll use bullets):

• The summer gig is done. Yay! I’m still “employed” but will not be staffing a program for many many months. In response to the reduction in stress, I stopped chewing my nails and actually had to use the nail clippers!
• I have a week left at the ‘bux. I’ll miss the people–both co-workers and customers, but not the job. Especially the way the company has been going lately.
• I have to make a to-do list, because there’s tons to be done before the end of August and I’m so far behind.
• I started looking at the biblical hebrew book and I’m nervous, because I actually can’t read the English transliteration (it’s different than the modern transliteration I’m used to).
• Riley is very cute, but still not housebroken. I’ve been spending a lot of time with him and will miss him when I leave. He has also become attached and barks at me when I return from wherever (even if it was for just a few minutes). It’s nice to be missed I can’t wait for him to able to roam the house without accidents.
• Does anyone have suggestions for resources for a Comparative Judaism/Religion class for 8th graders? the materials I have (and when I googled the topic they are used nation-wide) are so out of date (1978 and 81).

Catching up to springtime

I’ve been meaning to post since we got back from Chicago and our family seder. So, here goes.

I stirred the pot a little at the seder this year. I just had to, I couldn’t handle it anymore. When I read aloud I changed all the “fathers” and “man” words to be gender inclusive, unfortunately I wasn’t on the ball enough to make them non-specific. And my cousin, a really great man, spoke about it before we ate. He said that we use the 1920ish (not sure of the date) Union Haggadah for its historical value. Our family has been using the same one for years. But, he supports changing the words to be more modern if we feel necessary.  I respected that. It made me feel less uncomfortable about the haggadah and seder.

We didn’t do a second night seder, because it isn’t our family’s tradition. Sometimes, I’ll attend a different seder with friends or such, but not this year. So, instead, on Sunday, my sister and I drove back into the beautiful Madison weather. We were so excited! We put our oregano outside and proceded to attempt to buy more herbs to fill that pot and the others. However it was not to be. Instead, we grilled out. Just portobellas, but I roasted sweet potatoe fries in the oven. It was a delicious spring meal. The kids in the neighboring yards were out playing and even the cat from across the street came for a visit. Just like summer.

This week is a bit crazy because I started my new job. It’s a lot of fun but busy and a little stressful. I have a lot to do in a tight timeline. I’ll do my best. The office is right near the lake, which is nice. Of course, I’m using a cubicle in a windowless office, but…