Friday, May 30, 2008

On Cheeseburgers and the Treif-Stigma

For the last few days, I have had a ridiculously intense urge to eat a cheeseburger. Maybe even a bacon cheeseburger.

Note: I have never eaten a cheeseburger or bacon before.
Note 2: I have, however, eaten cheese together with meat - albeit a long time ago & accidentally (at least initially; I was eating lasagna - I didn't realize it had meat in it until almost the end).
Note 3: I once - again, accidentally - ate a piece of ham that was stuck to the bottom of my cream cheese bagel. It was nothing special.
Note 4: For some reason (maybe halakhic definitions, because I'm apparently ridiculous like that), I haven't had a problem with eating chicken and cheese together for a while (except, of course, the periods of time during which I've decided that I wanted to keep strictly kosher. I'm apparently religiously schizophrenic).

Here's the thing: WHY DO I CARE?

In other words, what's with my insistence to resist the temptation when I don't even believe?

I am so bizarre.

Monday, May 19, 2008

Faith & the Inexplicable

Many people base their religious faith on the fact that something in the world remains inexplicable. They reason that since something seems too complicated, too coincidental, or just plain weird, it must show the hand of God.

When I read articles like this - May 19, 1780: Darkness at Noon Enshrouds New England - I wonder if such people see themselves in it or question their own logic at all.

Tuesday, May 13, 2008

I'm Tired Of... (A Rant/List)

-- Uncertainty. Of vacillating between MO & non-O over and over again.

-- Covering my tracks from the people who would be crushed by my vacillations.

-- Reading religious opinions that are presented as facts.

-- The religious norm of all the "M"O people that I know -- which is moving further and further to the right.

-- My own emotional attachment to things I know, rationally, make no sense.

-- The cover-ups and lies used to hide immorality within a community of people who claim to be certain about religion. If they can't see that their lies allow innocent people to be hurt, aren't they at least scared that God will punish them for their lies?

-- The fact that I've been reading these blogs for over a year and lots of books on Judaism for half a year and have still come to no conclusion about where I want to go from here.

Tuesday, April 15, 2008

That Time of Year Again? Ugh.

Yeah, one of the things that prevents me from letting go of Judaism entirely is its holidays. I love Jewish holidays. With one exception: Pesach.

Things I do not love about Pesach:

1. The guilt trip that goes on in my brain, whereby I can still hear all my elementary & high school teachers implying that anyone who does not follow every single stringency when it comes to Pesach will be cut off from the Jewish people/burn in Hell.

2. Pesach cleaning. It's not the good kind of cleaning. It's all panic, anxiety, and OCD scrubbing.

3. Eight days of a malnourished me. Because I'm all about carbohydrates. And when I eat mostly protein (as will happen on Pesach, lest I get a stomach ache from too much matzah/potato starch), I never really feel full.

4. Kitniyot. Seriously?!?! On Pesach, I lament my Ashkenaz background. But honestly, why do we even have to keep this? What's the deal? Pesach is already so excessive, what's with this extra (ridiculously huge) restriction?

Monday, April 7, 2008

On the Other Side of the Mechitzah

A few days ago, I attended an event organized for people from Chasidic backgrounds who are becoming "modern" and trying to integrate themselves into secular society.

(I'm being especially cautious with this post, as I don't believe there to be many such events [correct me if I'm wrong!] and I do want to remain anonymous.)

My presence there, obviously, was somewhat accidental. I came with a friend whose friend had once been in the abovementioned situation. I was an anomaly there, having come from a Modern Orthodox background. In this way, I was really just a spectator of sorts -- and possibly shouldn't have been there. That said, it was one of the most interesting experiences I've had in the recent weeks.

It was eye-opening to come face-to-face with girls changing from skirts into pants in the bathroom stalls, guys who grew up in America speaking English haltingly, men with payes and women dancing Jewish-style together to Jewish music.

What was strangest for me, though, was that the whole experience was religiously uplifting to me. It had been a long time since I'd been somewhere with so many people singing and playing Jewish music with such exuberance and joy. And it was (unsurprisingly) the first time that I ever found myself dancing in a circle with Chasidic-looking men. In fact, it was really one of the first times I ever interacted with men like these.

The dancing, in particular, was amazing. I've yet to find a women's section with truly exuberant dancing. Maybe it's our own fault, maybe it's the way we were raised, maybe it's the space constraints of women's sections in general. All I know is, with the exception of a few weddings, I've never experienced the kind of dancing I did at this event (and weddings are kind of different, because the focus is on a person, rather than the dancing itself -- and rarely does the exuberant dancing include more than the inner circle of 5-8 people).

For me, this kind of dancing has always been something to stare at from above - or through the mechitzah. I remember specifically, one time in Tzfat, being taken to one of these shuls where the dancing was supposed to be fantastic. Everyone had told me about it, and I was eager to go. When I got there, though, all I found was a horde of women crowded up against the mechitzah, pulling back the little lace curtains, and staring two stories down at the men.

But at this event, it was suddenly like I'd crossed over to the men's section - to the ground floor of the shul in Tzfat - the focal point of the activity. And it felt overwhelming. And it felt uplifting. And it felt beautiful.

Monday, March 31, 2008

Religious Questioning & The State of Israel

An old friend of mine with whom I've recently gotten back into contact has also "lost her religion" - to a far greater extent than I have.

While she still enjoys aspects of Jewish culture (i.e., food, music, literature, etc.), she's completely rejected anything to do with Judaism (as in the religion). Questioning religion, for her, was only a part of questioning the entire value system in which she was raised. Much like me, she was raised to be a Zionist, went to Israel for the year, went to religious Zionist camps, etc. And so, Zionism was one of the value systems which she questioned and ultimately rejected.

She's now not only pro-Palestinian, but actually anti-Israel.

I have always been more "liberal" in my Zionism than others. By that, I mean that I've always been appalled by people who implied or openly stated that the Palestinians had no legitimate side. Even as I saw certain Palestinian tactics as murderous and unethical, I've never been able to understand some people's reactions to them. One really otherwise-sweet girl in my seminary, for example, declared that if she had a machine gun, she would walk into East Jerusalem and open fire. This - and all of those people I would meet who espoused Kahane-esque philosophies - was completely incomprehensible to me. I always believed, you can't lump a nation/race all together and say they are all evil and all deserve to die. (That is, at the end of the day, the biggest problem I have with the biblical injunction to eradicate Amalek.)

It wasn't until I was in my early twenties that I actually began to read literature written about and from the Palestinian viewpoint.

Up until that point, I had always been taught as though Israel had never done anything wrong EVER (almost certainly a mistake from an educational standpoint). That every piece of land acquired by the State of Israel was done so either by purchase from absentee landlords (thus, the problem was with angry tenants, as it was) or by humane methods after the UN Resolution.

When I found out that this wasn't always the case, I was left really confused. In addition to this, because I was simultaneously questioning whether the Torah was true, I wasn't really sure how the State of Israel could be justified. If God didn't give us the land, what claim did we have to it?

Of course, the literature I was reading was very one-sided and written from an emotional perspective. And though I have since come to see things differently, for a while (maybe a year or two), I felt really strange about my allegiance to Israel. So much so, that I couldn't even bring myself to say the word "Israel" around non-Jewish people without a queasy feeling in the bottom of my stomach. That said, for some reason, I still felt really attached the country itself. When I did visit, it still felt good in that way that it always had. And I couldn't (and didn't want to) imagine a world without Israel.

Interestingly enough, it took conversations with an Evangelical Christian Zionist to balance out my perspective again.

From these conversations, I have since come to the understanding that while Israel was not ethical in every decision it has made, no country can make such a claim. Yes, there were Palestinians exiled in unfair and inhumane ways. Yes, that's awful. But Israel has been ethical in many of its decisions. And those instances in which it has not been ethical do not revoke its right to exist.

The original settlements and the subsequent founding of the State of Israel were at least partially premised on the idea that in this hostile world, Jews needed their own homeland. And world events (pogroms, the Holocaust, and other persecutions) supported this thesis. If we look at Middle Eastern countries and/or certain European countries, today's world events still point to this need.

I'm rambling, admittedly, but it really made me feel strange to talk to this girl who now believes that the State of Israel should not exist -- especially at this point in the evolution of my belief system. She says that unless we look to the Bible, we have no claim to this land (implicit in her statement is that the Bible is not a valid source).

Now, I don't really want to use the Bible as a source either for such disputes. But certainly, if the Jews are to choose any land for the purpose described above, we do at least have a historic connection to the land.

I don't even know if that's important, though. In my mind, what it comes down to, is that she's now arguing for something completely unethical. There are generations of Israelis who have now grown up in this land, who own property, who understand this as their home. How would removing these people be ethical when removing Arabs from their homes was not? Can we correct something that was unethical (from her perspective) in the past by doing something equally as unethical today? Following her line of reasoning, to me, would be equivalent to arguing that we should remove the residents of the American West and give all the land to the Native Americans.

Thursday, March 6, 2008

It's so strange. The more I read, the less convinced I become in the divinity of the Torah, God, the Orthodox interpretation of Judaism.

And yet...

For the past two+ months, suddenly, I've been becoming more and more Orthodox, at least in terms of practice.

By that, I mean I've been (for the most part) keeping kosher & Shabbos diligently.

And the thing is - I'm not even sure why. Or rather, I know why I've been keeping Shabbos. I enjoy it. For the most part, it really does something for me. (See here.)

But I have absolutely no idea why I've been abstaining from eating in non-kosher restaurants. I was back and forth on this for a while -- but for a really long time, I was doing the keep-a-kosher-kitchen, eat kosher around those who would otherwise be upset (i.e., family and certain religious friends), and otherwise eat out non-kosher (vegetarian, for the most part).

It's so strange. And so contrary to what's been going on in my brain. I'm not really sure why this is happening at all.