16 Elul 5780 - September 5, 2020
I AM JEWISH: DARYL ROTHMAN
A realization I had fairly early on in life. Because of Christmas,
actually. Christmas being federally recognized and so ubiquitous in our
society, the first 4-5 years of my life my brother and I would get presents on Christmas
and didn’t think anything of it but when at about age 5 that stopped, my parents
explained why, and that we were Jewish and what that meant. While I might have
lamented the loss of gifts, I recall to this day a formative sense of pride sparking
within me, though of course I couldn’t have articulated it at that time.
There was Chanukah, there was Passover, the HH Days. There was
early education—from school and Sunday school and at home, about our history as
a people, including the Holocaust, and that internal sense of identity about
being Jewish burgeoned further still. I understood early on I would be Bar Mitzvah’d,
and watched my older brother go through his. We attended a Conservative synagogue
but my own views and feelings and approach as an individual tracked more
closely to what would probably have been labeled as Reform. But that’s the
thing about labels—they tend to limit us, restrict us, put us in a box. My
Judaism was for me more than anything about that pride and history as a
people but also the mishegoss of my own
family and myself, which incorporated a veritable zeitgeist of strengths and
weaknesses, and no shortage of quirks. Humor was big. My father was—and
remains—a hilarious guy, as was his own father(though far more understated)—there
were times my friends and I never made it out of the house for whatever activity
we had ostensibly planned—they were too busy rolling on the floor in fits of
laughter from Dad’s endless stories. He helped foster in me an appreciation for
how Jews had always turned to humor as an outlet and I learned about the
plethora of Jews in comedy and show business but also how so many had to change
their names—my all-time favorite was Danny Kaye (David Daniel Kaminsky)—but I
was the only kid I knew who, even in the TV era, was listening to Jack Benny tapes.
(Your money or your life? I’m thinking about
it!)
This evolution and journey—as it does for each of us in our
lives and our faith and our convictions—continued along its own unique, if
sometimes circuitous path, and even though we don’t nearly adhere to every
ritual or custom, the Judaism felt by my children—in their own unique way—as we
have refrained from indoctrination but rather shared and discussed and respected
each child’s individuality and approach to faith and to the world—remains a
source of pride that connects me back to those incipient embers those decades ago. My daughter, of whom
it wouldn’t be said is “religious,”
recently shared a conversation with me
that she’d had with her best friend, who is Christian and had asked my daughter
something and Rachel shared casually that she’d replied, no, “Because I’m Jewish.”
I don’t even remember what the question was; what I do recall was my heart
welling full upon hearing this. What it means to my daughter, to all my kids,
to myself, to anyone, is at once unique and yet in a way I think defies easy description,
collective. The ties that bind, for individuals, families, for our people. At
times but a whisper, but at its core, clarion.
I am Jewish, and I am grateful.
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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