The New Jews and the Blind Bubby

18 Tishrei 5782

 

Today is a powerful day for the Eastman family. It is the 32nd anniversary of our geirut, our conversion to Judaism. A week from now, Avi and I will celebrate the anniversary of our chuppah, our Jewish wedding. This is a period of such sweet memories, all colored by the people who surrounded us. If I sit still with my eyes closed, I can see all of their faces, all of their smiles…

It is also the 19^th anniversary of the passing of my dear Mama. Being the 19^th year, both the lunar and solar calendars share the date. This would delight my mother. While she was not Jewish, she respected Jewish people and Jewish tradition.

One day when she was nearly blind but hadn’t yet been warned by the police that Reisterstown Road wasn’t a safe place for a blind lady alone – there had been officers keeping an eye on her to protect her for months – she was sitting in Dunkin’ Donuts, her usual hangout during her walkabout circuit. I can picture her smiling, listening to the chatter of people around her, sipping her sweetened coffee and nibbling the pastry that was slowly taking her from us…

At another table, a New York bubby was sitting with her grandsons. Mama loved accents just as I do, and enjoyed painting pictures of people using the colors in their voices. If she squinted, Mama could just make out the bright shapes on the boys’ dark yarmulkes.

“Bubby, what’s the bracha? I can’t remember the bracha,” said one little boy.

 “Don’t worry about the blessing,” responded the grandmother. “Your mother isn’t here right now.”

 To hear her tell it, you would think my mother actually flew from her chair to the family’s table. “Why are you trying to put a wedge between yourself and the boys’ mother?” she challenged. Yes, indeed, she did just that. And then my non-Jewish mother proceeded to remind the boys how to say “mezonos.”

 She didn’t make a friend that day, I am sure. And it was probably not as dramatic as she told it. My inclination toward storytelling comes from both my parents, after all. But sometimes one can admire those who have so little left to lose in the world that they can say whatever is in their hearts and minds, to remind the rest of us to build bridges rather than walls between ourselves and our families. Mama was a great bridge builder, and her children and grandchildren still balance upon that foundation to get to each other and to those who think differently.

 Mama, I hope you are still proud of all of us from your well-earned perch in Shamayim. I think you are. I can see your smile in each of your grandsons and in the faces of their beautiful Jewish children.

Playing with the Grave Issue of Conversion Annulment

7 Sivan 5779.

It's unusual for a play to keep me from sleeping well. But I was in for one of those patented tossing-and-turning nights after watching Miriam Metzinger's play at Jerusalem's Khan Theater a few days before Shavuot.

Directed by Yael Valier as part of her debate-provoking Theater and Theology series, In a Stranger's Grave strikes very close to home for me. Two religious Jewish sisters prepare for the funeral of their mother in Israel, only to receive the shocking news that the burial society will not allow her to be buried in the Jewish section of the cemetery next to her husband. Their once-pious mother had discarded Jewish observance after the death of her husband, resulting in the rabbinical court questioning her original commitment at the time of her conversion to Judaism decades before.

When my husband and I converted to Judaism in 1989, we were deeply touched by Frankfurt's Chief Rabbi's words just prior to our immersions in the mikvaot: "What was before no longer is. Once you go through this process, there is no undoing it. If chas v'shalom you would decide not to live as Jews, you would still be Jews, and would have to answer to God for failing to live up to your responsibilities." He said these words as a "last chance" for us to change our minds. But what resonated for us was "once a Jew, always a Jew," and with that privilege came responsibility. We understood that our Jew-ness could never be taken away.

In 2008, our world shifted tectonically. The unprecedented annulment of conversions that had been supervised by Rabbi Hayyim Druckman changed the lives of some of our friends, and created a ripple effect causing converts everywhere to doubt the security of their status within the Jewish family.

Throughout the following decade, we were personally affected by the Rabbinate's hesitation to accept conversions as valid which had been performed outside Israel. Were it not for the extraordinary efforts of our yishuv Rav in advocating on our behalf, not one of our four sons would have been permitted to have a kosher wedding in Israel.

Metzinger's play fairly addresses many questions. In the words of Yael Valier: "Can anyone but the convert judge the sincerity of her conversion? Can Jewish status be annulled? Can the pain of the individual ever trump the needs of the community? Must a society take risks that could lead to the erosion of its own values?"

The play's characters struggle with these questions, and the audience feels them, along with the conflicting and shifting loyalties toward and between the sisters, portrayed by Devorah Leah Jaffe and Avital Macales. Macales plays Esther, the central figure in the drama, whose sanity threatens to desert her under the weight of this life-altering emotional earthquake. Jaffe plays her sister Chana, struggling to keep her family together, even as she and Esther face the reality that it is not only their mother's Jewish status that is in question...

As a convert, I found all my anxieties welling to the surface, as the debate raged on stage. I tried to be fair to the rabbi representing the burial society. Played by Howard Metz, the rabbi's concerns for the larger Jewish community were deftly but compassionately expressed. Bakol Ruben Gellar, Charles B. Davies, Mordechai Buxner and Syma Davidovich all played the roles of friends, family and colleagues whose loyalty to the two sisters fluctuates sadly and believably throughout the story. (I joked with these actors after the play that it was good there was a question-and-answer period following their performance, because it gave me a chance to get over being mad at them.) Our hero is Rabbi Aaron, played by David Golinkin. In essence "playing himself," as Valier pointed out, Rabbi Golinkin argues passionately on behalf of the inviolability of conversions, bringing many textual proofs to support his position. Happily, the play is allowed lighter moments through Aharon Naiman's characterization of a police officer, during humorous and tender moments with the volatile Esther.

After the play, there was a discussion between Valier and Rabbi Dr. Natan Lopes Cardozo, himself a convert. Their discussion and the audience's questions touched on the personal as well as the larger Jewish community's needs. Not surprisingly, a large part of the discussion centered on whether the needs of the Jewish community are being met by the rulings of Israel's Chief Rabbinate.

I hope that the discussion will continue well beyond the drama depicted on stage in In a Stranger's Grave. It is an important discussion with far-reaching ramifications. This is not an easy play to watch, but I strongly recommend you take the chance of a sleepless night. Our Jewish family — our greater Jewish family — needs to address the questions Miriam Metzinger's story so adroitly presents.

In a Stranger's Grave is sold out! To be put on a first-to-know list in advance of our fall run, you are encouraged to send an email to Contact@TheaterAndTheology.com.

Photo credit: Yael Valier

Jewish Boy Meets and Falls in Love with Christian Girl. What Next?

Yom rishon, 22 Kislev 5775.

I was intrigued when I first saw the reviews of Doublelife: One Family, Two Faiths and a Journey of Hope. Minister of Music in a Texas mega-church meets and falls in love with nice secular Jewish boy from New York. And somehow they are supposed to work all of this out.

But I had about five books going already -- so I put the thought of reading Doublelife on a way, way back burner.

Then a good friend introduced Gayle to me. After one short phone conversation, I had a strong need to read the book right now.

My first impression is that I like these two people very much. Harold Berman and Gayle Redlingshafer Berman each write well. The device of love letters between them, used consistently throughout the book, is a delightful dance (even though I had to rely on my by now entrenched affection for them both to suspend my disbelief when the letters continued even after they were married and living in one house).

Our two characters are warm, intelligent, frighteningly talented. (An aside: my friend introduced Gayle and me in part because we are both musicians. I chuckled as I read about the classical and operatic music in which these two fascinating individuals immersed themselves... and wondered what they will think of Avi and me with our blues-country-old-time-rock-n-roll level of musicality.)

Gayle and Harold decide to marry, but without rose-colored glasses. They speak openly about the differences in their religious upbringings, their concern about child-rearing across the faith divide, their well-reasoned but still naive belief that love can conquer all.

And then the story gets really interesting, as they continue to write openly and lovingly of the difficult realities life throws into their plans. The largest and most threatening of these is Harold's increasing need to come to terms with what being a Jew means, and their mutual discovery that this is no small matter in the context of their happy marriage. The crises come -- as they often do in marriage -- when the couple is faced with a whiplash series of changes in direction neither of them could have anticipated when they carefully crafted their interfaith wedding ceremony and their subsequent life plans.

I won't spoil the story for you by giving you any more information. Suffice it to say that here are two people we should all aspire to emulate, if we want marriage to work. And if you need to feel the roller-coaster of joy and laughter and tears, Doublelife will give you plenty of opportunities for each.

However the story ends, the friendship and respect between these two fine people causes the reader to cheer them on to a happy ending.

In Israel, you can purchase the books at my personal favorite bookstore, M. Pomeranz Bookseller on Be'eri Street in Jerusalem. Drop my name, please. It won't necessarily get you a discount, but it will make Michael and Shira smile.