She believed in dreams, all right, but she also believed in doing something about them. When Prince Charming didn't come along, she went over to the palace and got him.
For anyone who hasn't already heard the play-by-play (or can't wait to hear it again) of the Beit Din/mikva experience, click HERE and enjoy.
They say it takes a village to raise a child. Who's in my village? There's the mikva attendant who bear hugged me while dripping wet and naked to give me a proper welcome to the tribe. The bus driver who insisted on a proper "good morning" before taking my money to get back to Jerusalem. The rabbi who essentially lied to the beit din because he recognizes my commitment and passion for Judaism. The woman I met at Yedidya who made sure that there was a cake in my honor during Shabbos kiddush at shul. The gabbai who intends to look up a proper mishaberach to be included during next week's service and his wife who insists that they could have done more when, in reality, they were the perfect support system.
And then there's the Pardes community. The rabbi who sat with me Christmas morning while I cried about not being home. The friend who felt such nachas when I said motzi that first time. The roommates who threw an almost surprise pool party. The teachers that held my hand, gave me hugs, helped give me a sense of direction, insisted on going for manicures, and always had time to listen. The peers who let me learn with them, let me learn next to them, let me into their spiritual journeys, and let me make all the (anti)frum jokes I needed to. The rabbi who helped me fight from the beginning, saw the pain, heard me curse, pushed me to my limits, and will never understand the need for "happy tears."
And then there's chutz l'aretz. The guy who made me aware in the first place and (indirectly) pushed me to do this. His mom who showed me that I could find a place in Judaism that encompassed all of my needs. The friends that had connections with the Rabbanute, let me complain for days on end, and gave me the support I needed regardless of the distance between us. The Hillel eboard members that were willing to take over during Shabbos dinner because I was too angry to be in such a Jewish room. The director and rabbi that sent out countless emails to their networks and continue to be so invested in my life. The Chabad staff that were willing to go above and beyond because they recognized my passion. The shul community from home that, regardless of me going to the "dark side," will forever be a part of my family. And, above all, the parents that support me even in such foreign territory.
Words will never begin to explain just how blessed I feel to have such a large village standing with me.
This past week, everyone has been asking a set of questions: How are you going to celebrate? Do you feel any different now? How did it feel in the mikva? Do you really think you weren't Jewish until now? Everyone received the same answer: I don't know, I'm still processing. Ask me in a week. It's been a week and no one has asked me again. But I suppose I should share anyway...
How am I going to celebrate? This question was one of the more difficult. Was this really a celebratory moment? I was raised Jewish. I've been doing kiruv since forever. All I really did was go to a couple of lady learning classes, fight the Israeli government, fight the rabbis (or the shin-dalets), answer some difficult questions, and cannonball into a tiny pool of water. I did all of that in less than six months. It takes most people at least a year (usually much longer) to go through this. How could I look at all of that and feel comfortable celebrating my shortcuts? But that's the thing- it's not about celebrating what happened. That final dunk brought about the realization that I have a ginormous, ever-growing village on my side. There's no need to do anything (right now) to rejoice. The rest of my life will be one huge celebration. What more could a girl ask for?
Do I feel any different? Nope, I'm still me. The only difference is that I don't have that inner machloket going on anymore. I feel 100% at peace and I can honestly say that I haven't felt that way in years.
How did the mikva feel? Well, it was a little uncomfortable wearing the tribal gown with 5 people standing there staring at me. It was super warm, but I HATE putting my face underwater. So that was kind of sucky. But you know what was really fascinating? The timing of everything. There's a mishna that discusses a situation of a man in the mikva at the exact time to say the morning Shema. When learning that in class, we all wanted to know when this situation could possibly occur. It didn't make any sense to us. However, let it be known that I was in the mikva at the last possible time that one could fulfill their obligation of saying their morning Shema. THEN there was the walk to the bus. First thing I heard upon walking outside? There was a rooster crowing. Every morning we recite a bracha thanking Hashem for giving the rooster wisdom to distinguish between night and day. It was a really powerful thing to hear that sound and think about the meaning behind this bracha.
Did I really think I wasn't Jewish? This is a loaded question. There's a good argument to be made as to why I wasn't a member of the tribe. Torah came from Sinai, our Sages were able to pass down the lessons, we need to take them as truth, and therefore this is the only true way to become a Jewish. Just kidding, that was my brain washed answer. But in reality, why would anyone have to go through all of this if they were always considered Jewish? How could I really believe that my status was 100% yet an Orthodox rabbi wouldn't marry me and my kids' status would be questionable. It's not possible (in my humble opinion) to be "half-Jewish" so it was a yes or no question.
But then there's the other side of things. Judaism isn't only bound by halacha. It's composed of a rich culture and sense of community. I've had both of those since I was old enough to figure out how to sit on the floor during minyan and put money into the pushka. I may not have been a "halachic Jew," but I sure was an integral part of the Jewish community. So what was the need to go through this "extra" conversion? *Dvar Torah Alert* Last week's parsha was Parshat Tetzaveh. It's really an exciting parsha full of lots of adventure. If you haven't read it already, stop what you're doing and go check it out. If you have read it, then you'll know that it discusses the preistly garments worn by the kohanim while serving in the Temple. Maimonides writes that a kohein wearing fewer garments than he is required to wear will invalidate the service performed and he will be subject to punishment by death as if he were an alien who served in the Mikdash. When they wear their priestly clothing their priestly status is upon them. When the garments are not being worn, their priestly status is removed (severely paraphrased from Hilchot Klei HaMikdash 10:4). Going off of this, it seems like I was wearing most of my "Jewish garments" but there were still a couple missing. In order to be fully dressed, I needed to get the Rabbanute to sign a document and then go for that swim. Now that I've completed these tasks, I'm "properly dressed" and can perform my "Jewish service."
So which opinion do I agree with?
קשיא.
I'm done.
Wednesday, February 12, 2014
Play-by-play:
Tuesday (Jan 28/27 Shevat):
It was a normal Tuesday evening. Finish Pardes classes at 5, frantically run to the bus stop, ride around Jerusalem for about an hour, sit through my lady learning class, talk to Rav D, go home angry. But on this particular night, I left thinking "ma nishtana ha'lila ha'zeh?" Why was this night different all of a sudden? Simple. It included a great quote from RavD: "I can tell this process is causing you a lot of pain. Okay, we'll get to the Beit Din within the next month. Actually, there's a girl who's supposed to go on Thursday but she doesn't have all of her papers yet. Are you ready to go on Thursday?"
Bam.
Thursday (Jan 30/29 Shevat):
I think it's safe to say that I spent the entire morning pooping. "Being nervous" doesn't even begin to explain it. RavD called me several times beforehand to go over some of the questions that I needed to know and then spent about 20 minutes convincing me of all the reasons why people should be shomer negiah. Then I convinced him that of course I can't wait to make aliyah and live here forever. It was a really heartfelt conversation.
Anyway, the time came to leave for my appointment. RavD and Zvi (or Rav Zvi as I was instructed to call him that day) met me at the office...and then it was go time. There was a whole lot of Hebrew and giggling going on between the 5 rabbis sitting in that room. It gave me some time to breath, but then the questioning started. One of the Beit Din (BD) rabbis (with their knit kippot and short beards) would ask a question in Hebrew, Zvi or RavD would translate, I would answer in English, Zvi or RavD would translate back, and then I'd get a funny look from the BD. I was asked about which brachot a person would say over certain foods, why women are obligated in Hanukkah but not in Hallel during Hanukkah, what things are added into davening and birkat hamazon during Rosh Chodesh (which started Thursday night), how to properly shect a cow (including how long to salt the meat for), and difficult questions about the Gemara that we had spent all of 2 days learning in class. Zvi only had to jump in 2 times to inform the BD about their unfair questions.
I think my favorite part was seeing their reaction to the fact that not everyone in the Conservative Movement keeps kosher. Their heads nearly exploded. It was amazing.
They told the 3 of us to go back to the waiting room as they discussed the verdict. After a significant amount of time, RavD decided he was going in to find out why they were taking so long. After a couple of minutes, he came back out to inform us that they were debating about me learning in a mixed gender environment. Obviously a person's Jewish status should be based upon whether or not they learn with cootie-infested boys...
Finally, we were called back in. They explained their concerns to me and I convinced them that I'm truly against mixed learning, avoid chevrutahing with guys, and from here on out plan to only engage in Torah study in all female institutions. So maybe it was immoral to lie to the BD. I can't say I really care.
I made a declaration that I accept all of the mitzvot, said Shema, and received a piece of paper with three signatures on it. Zvi and I walked outside. He davened mincha while I bawled my eyes out. And that was that.
Wednesday (Feb 5/5 Adar1):
My mikva appointment was at 9:15AM in Hod HaSharon. That meant waking up at 5:30, getting to the central bus station around 6:30, jumping on another bus for an hour, and taking a mini stroll to find this building. Everything was going smoothly until I sat down on the bus and realized that one of the BD rabbis was sitting right behind me. This was by far the most terrifying thing. I decided against eating any of the bus snacks I had for fear that he might ask me brachot questions and made sure to say tefilat haderech as we (I think) left Jerusalem. Then I decided to be a rebel and listened to a podcast from a mixed learning environment (chas v'shalom!).
As soon as I got to the building, they had me go into a lovely room with a toilet, shower, sink, and chair. The first woman to come by (we'll call her A) started giving me instructions in Hebrew. When she realized that wasn't working, she told me to shampoo and put on towel. Naturally, I didn't bring a towel (who doesn't bring a towel to the mikva!?) so she went to get one. That's when the second woman (we'll call her B) came in. She looks at my watch and tells me to take it off. Then she motions towards my scarf and proceeds to help remove it. I didn't think I needed to tell her this, but I have experience in undressing myself. I really didn't need her. Finally, A comes back with a towel and the two of them leave me. When I was all shampooed and fully undressed (no thanks to B) they came to retrieve me. We walked across the hall with nothing more than a towel on and they told me to walk into the mikva. Let me tell you, there's nothing weirder than being butt naked in front of two super frum women. But the water was SO warm so nothing else really mattered.
The initial (official?) dunking was quite simple: Hold on to the underwater bar, fully immerse, resurface, get out of the water. Then it was time to put on my tribal gown:
Now that I was properly dressed for the occasion, it was time to jump back into the water and wait for the BD to arrive. I'm not sure if you've ever worn a dress in a pool before but, thanks to the laws of nature, they generally have a problem staying all the way down. A and B kept telling me to pull it down. That didn't work so well...the BD got a little leg action. Whatever.
I dunked again, said a bracha, they said mazal tov, the BD left, and I got out. We walked back across the hallway and then B bear hugged me while dripping wet in my gown. She kissed me on both cheeks, said another mazal tov, and then left me. Not entirely sure why she thought I'd be able to manage getting redressed by myself, but I succeeded nonetheless.
I walked back to the bus stop and that was that.
I'm officially a part of the cool kid club.
It was a normal Tuesday evening. Finish Pardes classes at 5, frantically run to the bus stop, ride around Jerusalem for about an hour, sit through my lady learning class, talk to Rav D, go home angry. But on this particular night, I left thinking "ma nishtana ha'lila ha'zeh?" Why was this night different all of a sudden? Simple. It included a great quote from RavD: "I can tell this process is causing you a lot of pain. Okay, we'll get to the Beit Din within the next month. Actually, there's a girl who's supposed to go on Thursday but she doesn't have all of her papers yet. Are you ready to go on Thursday?"
Bam.
Thursday (Jan 30/29 Shevat):
I think it's safe to say that I spent the entire morning pooping. "Being nervous" doesn't even begin to explain it. RavD called me several times beforehand to go over some of the questions that I needed to know and then spent about 20 minutes convincing me of all the reasons why people should be shomer negiah. Then I convinced him that of course I can't wait to make aliyah and live here forever. It was a really heartfelt conversation.
Anyway, the time came to leave for my appointment. RavD and Zvi (or Rav Zvi as I was instructed to call him that day) met me at the office...and then it was go time. There was a whole lot of Hebrew and giggling going on between the 5 rabbis sitting in that room. It gave me some time to breath, but then the questioning started. One of the Beit Din (BD) rabbis (with their knit kippot and short beards) would ask a question in Hebrew, Zvi or RavD would translate, I would answer in English, Zvi or RavD would translate back, and then I'd get a funny look from the BD. I was asked about which brachot a person would say over certain foods, why women are obligated in Hanukkah but not in Hallel during Hanukkah, what things are added into davening and birkat hamazon during Rosh Chodesh (which started Thursday night), how to properly shect a cow (including how long to salt the meat for), and difficult questions about the Gemara that we had spent all of 2 days learning in class. Zvi only had to jump in 2 times to inform the BD about their unfair questions.
I think my favorite part was seeing their reaction to the fact that not everyone in the Conservative Movement keeps kosher. Their heads nearly exploded. It was amazing.
They told the 3 of us to go back to the waiting room as they discussed the verdict. After a significant amount of time, RavD decided he was going in to find out why they were taking so long. After a couple of minutes, he came back out to inform us that they were debating about me learning in a mixed gender environment. Obviously a person's Jewish status should be based upon whether or not they learn with cootie-infested boys...
Finally, we were called back in. They explained their concerns to me and I convinced them that I'm truly against mixed learning, avoid chevrutahing with guys, and from here on out plan to only engage in Torah study in all female institutions. So maybe it was immoral to lie to the BD. I can't say I really care.
I made a declaration that I accept all of the mitzvot, said Shema, and received a piece of paper with three signatures on it. Zvi and I walked outside. He davened mincha while I bawled my eyes out. And that was that.
Wednesday (Feb 5/5 Adar1):
My mikva appointment was at 9:15AM in Hod HaSharon. That meant waking up at 5:30, getting to the central bus station around 6:30, jumping on another bus for an hour, and taking a mini stroll to find this building. Everything was going smoothly until I sat down on the bus and realized that one of the BD rabbis was sitting right behind me. This was by far the most terrifying thing. I decided against eating any of the bus snacks I had for fear that he might ask me brachot questions and made sure to say tefilat haderech as we (I think) left Jerusalem. Then I decided to be a rebel and listened to a podcast from a mixed learning environment (chas v'shalom!).
As soon as I got to the building, they had me go into a lovely room with a toilet, shower, sink, and chair. The first woman to come by (we'll call her A) started giving me instructions in Hebrew. When she realized that wasn't working, she told me to shampoo and put on towel. Naturally, I didn't bring a towel (who doesn't bring a towel to the mikva!?) so she went to get one. That's when the second woman (we'll call her B) came in. She looks at my watch and tells me to take it off. Then she motions towards my scarf and proceeds to help remove it. I didn't think I needed to tell her this, but I have experience in undressing myself. I really didn't need her. Finally, A comes back with a towel and the two of them leave me. When I was all shampooed and fully undressed (no thanks to B) they came to retrieve me. We walked across the hall with nothing more than a towel on and they told me to walk into the mikva. Let me tell you, there's nothing weirder than being butt naked in front of two super frum women. But the water was SO warm so nothing else really mattered.
The initial (official?) dunking was quite simple: Hold on to the underwater bar, fully immerse, resurface, get out of the water. Then it was time to put on my tribal gown:
Now that I was properly dressed for the occasion, it was time to jump back into the water and wait for the BD to arrive. I'm not sure if you've ever worn a dress in a pool before but, thanks to the laws of nature, they generally have a problem staying all the way down. A and B kept telling me to pull it down. That didn't work so well...the BD got a little leg action. Whatever.
I dunked again, said a bracha, they said mazal tov, the BD left, and I got out. We walked back across the hallway and then B bear hugged me while dripping wet in my gown. She kissed me on both cheeks, said another mazal tov, and then left me. Not entirely sure why she thought I'd be able to manage getting redressed by myself, but I succeeded nonetheless.
I walked back to the bus stop and that was that.
I'm officially a part of the cool kid club.
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