4 Elul 5780 - August 24, 2020
I AM JEWISH: CANDY ZEMON
In the simplest sense, I am Jewish because I chose to be. As a convert, that sentence carries a lot of baggage and it sums up my story. But it does not really answer the question of why I chose to be Jewish or why I choose my actions with Jewish ethics in mind, and see the world through a Jewish lens. Now. In the present tense.
So let’s try again. Like most converts I have asked, the overwhelming driving emotion culminating in the conversion was one of coming home. How can this be? To my knowledge, there have never been Jews among my ancestors. Well, there is one small couple of generations of interest in the early 1700s in London. My uncle did a lot of genealogical research on my maternal ancestors. They were all from England and Wales. Most of the names are Edward, James, Mary, Elizabeth, Anne. In one small aberration, there is suddenly a group with names like Solomon, David, Abraham, Rebecca, Esther. A small flash of possibility. But not repeated.
I converted at the age of 50 after a process that took several years and included “living as a Jew”, learning Hebrew, studying a lot, taking the community Intro to Judaism class, regular attendance at services and Torah study, a beit din, and a mikvah ceremony. It was wonderful, and it took way longer than I thought it would and it was the way it had to be. The rabbi involved originally asked me if my interest in conversion was a “marrying thing” and no it was not. I was involved with a Jewish man, but had started my search long before that. Coincidentally, I did marry him and was a Jew at the time of our marriage, but he was not a motivating factor. Other than that he supported me in my conversion journey.
I was raised in a Christian home. Church was a regular part of my life. Until I was 10, my father held two full time jobs - one as a supply preacher for rural churches of various denominations in upstate New York, and one as a professor of philosophy and religion at Syracuse University (at its Utica campus). I grew up in a neighborhood where Protestants were a minority. If a Catholic holiday coincided with a Jewish holiday, there would be maybe half a dozen kids in my class at school. So yes, I knew a lot of Jewish kids but not well. When I was 10, my father accepted a position teaching philosophy and world religion at Kalamazoo College. So we moved to Michigan. Not many Jews in Kalamazoo that I knew of. Heavy Dutch Reformed presence. As a northern Baptist, I was among the more liberal religious groups. In all the churches I have attended, I was always drawn to the sermons that essentially said get up and do some good in this world. Believe me, that is a minority message. But it was far more interesting to me than the usual ones around how life will be better when you die and join your savior in the sky.
I have been baptized 4 times if you count the mikvah conversion - twice in infancy by my father in two of the congregations he led, and once as a teen and a Baptist. My father, though he was an ordained Baptist minister, did not believe in withholding the sacrament of baptism from infants. He baptized all his children.
When I married, my first husband and I became Presbyterians and raised our two daughters in the Presbyterian church. We moved from Pennsylvania to Missouri when the girls were toddlers.
We lived in west county St Louis. My girls went to Parkway North where each of them formed close friendships with lots of Jewish kids. I had Jewish neighbors. I learned a lot in bus stop conversations but was personally unaffected.
Coincidentally, I watched United Hebrew build its current building. We were members of Bonhomme Presbyterian and my girls were active in choir and youth groups so we passed the Conway site several times a week every week.
Long background to the point when I changed my life. I had been depressed for years. I finally left my husband of 26 years and struck out on my own, expecting to live alone for the rest of my life. I was unhappy. I was lost. I found no comfort in my church or my faith. I knew I needed a core of belief to hold myself and my life purpose together. I started seeking. The first time I heard Hebrew, I was moved to tears. In fact, I need to acknowledge the kindness and patience of those sitting near me in services for several years as I regularly wept week after week without any idea of why.
My parents, by the way, were very supportive. A bit mystified, but they saw how unhappy I had been and how sincerely I was seeking. My dad did want me to understand the history of Jewish treatment of women. I was aware of that, as I was aware of the Christian history of treatment of women. My children were completely blindsided by my leaving (they were in college) and though we all get along now, I think they had a hard time of it. I was as clear as I could be that it was about me, not about them or about their dad. We do recognize that my girls and their families celebrate and believe differently from me and my family now and we work it out respectfully. Since they all live in the St Louis area, there is ample opportunity to celebrate together.
So back to the beginning question. I am Jewish because I chose to come home and convert and to live a life of purpose and community, to do the right thing whenever and wherever I can, and to learn and question and grow old and die in this way of being and believing. I am grateful to have been able to make this journey. I know it would not have been possible in other times and places. I do believe the midrash that all Jewish souls were present at Sinai. Why else would I know what home feels like?
All this does not mean there are not still hard times I need to deal with. I deliberately do not visit my Christian family during Christian holidays. I have true sadness at Yizkor services when folks look at the tapestry of names they come from, remember generations who believed as they do, have a continuity with the past that I don’t have. I have no childhood memories of Jewish holidays, foods, or traditions. So everything is new to me. I have no family recipes. Nor does my husband, though he does have the childhood memories to work from. So I have explored and gathered a few recipes and traditions that work for my family now. I helped raise Jewish sons with no past to draw on, and we did accomplish the feat. Touchingly, their childhood memories are based on what we invented as we went.
I do feel connected to the Jewish past. It is enough that my Jewish soul found a Jewish home where I can enjoy and share what it means to me to be Jewish. I am grateful for the opportunity to come home. I do not take it lightly. I have huge respect for those who bore me. They welcomed me for who I am and continued to love and support me when I changed my life and converted away from how I had been raised. It can’t have been easy for them. But we share a belief in one God, though we may differ in how we worship that God. Do you know the book “The Becoming of Ruth”? It is an awesome book about conversion. It is also an awesome book for “born” Jews. Because each of us, no matter how we got here, gets to choose what to do with our Jewishness, how and when and whether to practice, and what is important to us to pass on.
And like my possible Jewish ancestors from so many centuries ago, there is no way of telling what will happen with the future generations. I hope for a solid future that includes the sons I helped raise and their families in a thriving Jewish community. It may not happen. It will certainly look different from the present. Look how different we are from generations past. But, as the cantor would say, Still Jewish.
It is tradition to read Psalm 27 every day during Elul.
PSALM 27
God is my light and my refuge secure - whom shall I fear?
God is the stronghold of my life - of whom should I be afraid?
When those who act with malice would devour me with words,
it is they who stumble, they who fall.
If an army were to take up arms against me, my heart would not fear.
If war were waged against me, still I would trust.
Just one thing I have asked of God; only this do I seek:
to dwell in God’s house all the days of my life,
to behold divine sweetness and beauty, and to gaze in delight at God’s Temple.
God shelters me in times of hardship, shields me in a tent of divine protection,
raises me high on a rock - so that now my head rises above enemies around me.
Let me make offerings in that tent - the offerings of a joyful cry.
Let me sing hymns, and celebrate the One who is eternal - Adonai.
Hear my voice when I call; God, answer me with grace.
My heart spoke for you - it said, “Seek My face.” Your face, Adonai, I will seek.
Do not hide your face from me, nor angrily turn away Your faithful one -
the one You have sustained. My God-of-rescue, do not desert me!
When my father and mother have gone, God will gather me in.
Teach me your way, Adonai; and guide me on a straight path,
because of those who lie in wait for me.
Do not hand me over to the will of foes who rose against me -
lying witnesses and those whose very breath is violence.
If only I could believe that I will see God’s goodness
in the land of the living. . .
Wait for Adonai
Be strong of heart, and be bold -- but wait for Adonai.
It is also tradition to hear the sound of the shofar each day during Elul. It is a wake up call to prepare for the upcoming holy days.
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