LETTERS From CAMP Rehoboth |
CAMP Out |
by Fay Jacobs |
A Religious Experience
Ever since Georgia State Representative Billy McKinney lost a primary battle in 2002, I've been feeling uneasy. According to The Washington Post, he blamed his loss on the "J-E-W-S." Nice. While it's some comfort that McKinney lost, it still made me queasy. I've spent more than half my life working to prevent discrimination against gays and lesbians. It's been my issue both personally, for small instances of discrimination, and, in a wider sense, for our community as whole. But until some recent news articles, I never really took anti-semitism as a personal threat or a contemporary issue. Whose head's in the sand now? I flinched when reading about the resurgence of European anti-semitism and the massive propaganda lie nurtured in Arab nations that, of all hateful untruths, the Jews were behind 9-11. Hearing vicious anti-Semitic rants from Iranian officials and reading of nations which refuse to recognize Israel's right to exist is very discomforting to say the least. And we cannot forget Mel Gibson's wild eyed rant about the Jews causing all the wars in the world. Frankly, I thought that was the Republicans' job. It's enough to make me want to "come out" as Jewish and start paying more than lip service (like eating lox and bagels), to my religious heritage. My parents were secular Jews. They didn't attend services but they identified greatly with ethnic Judaismand they were of the generation that refused to buy Volkswagons and Mercedes because of the manufacturer's World War II connection to the Third Reich. Struck with a little Jewish guilt when my sister and I were young, my folks sent us to "Sunday" school on Saturday at our local temple. One day, while I was in religious class, with my mother and sister on their way to pick me up, my mom skidded the car on an icy street and wrecked her 1957 Thunderbird. Mom and Sis had only minor injuries, but that was the absolute end of my religious training. My mother took the accident as a sign from God that we should be doing other things on Saturdays. Kaput. Finito. Done. Decades later, when a number of people here in town got together to form the first Jewish congregation in the entire county, it interested me a little. So after a few visits on the High Holy Days, with Bonnie coming along, I began to feel a kinship with Seaside Jewish Community. With the exception of weddings, funerals, and a stray visit to DC's gay synagogue, this was my first religious experience in over 40 years (unless you count crme brul). Not surprisingly, I was a little lost amid the Hebrew prayers and songs, but not among the crowd. At least ten congregants were friends from CAMP Rehoboth, I recognized several people from the Art League and a few more from downtown businesses. The nice thing is that it didn't feel like a straight synagogue or a gay synagogue. There was a great mix. So now, in addition to hosting our annual Chanukah party where we serve Bonnie's fabulous Matzo Ball soup and Latkes (potato pancakes), I am part of the budding Jewish community here. And one of the things that drew me to this congregation is the person who most often leads the services. Beth is our lay rabbi. She does a terrific job and is a wonderfully wise and spiritual person. Also lots of fun, because long before I showed up in schul, we'd been socializing with Beth and her partner Fran. So actually she is our lay lesbian rabbi. She's a lay rabbi because she knows her stuff but hasn't been through the official rabbinical training. I do believe however, that she is an ordained lesbian. It's been nice going to the occasional Saturday morning service and adding a bit of organized religion to my life. Somehow it feels different than all my previous forays into a synagogue. It feels integrated, with my family of choice, my gay life and my spiritual life (or at least heritage and culture) all coming together and recognized by this welcoming congregation. Adding that touch of spirituality seems appropriate to me for the very first time in my life. A touch. And then it happened. My mate, who always enjoyed the study of religion and was herself a committed Christian until she was lobbed from her church for being gay, began to take an interest. To be sure, Bonnie has always loved Jewish food, Jewish jokes and Jewish women. But I was a little surprised when she told me she wanted to explore converting to the Jewish faith. "Making matzo ball soup isn't enough?" I asked. No, she really wanted to study. "A couple of pounds of pastrami won't satisfy your craving?" Nope. She decided she liked the philosophy behind the religion and felt very comfortable with our little Jewish congregation. So my mate started taking Hebrew lessons from Beth and practicing her alphabet and prayers by playing recorded lessons on her iPod. I am very, very proud of her for making this choice and taking on all the hard work and introspection required to see it through. However, I think the ability to make the requisite sounds for Hebrew and Yiddish words is genetic. Telling somebody they have a lot of Chutzpah (Yiddish for gumption) and pronouncing the CH with the properly liquid "CHuh" sound is easy for Jewish people. Non-Jews have to really work at it. It's the difference between calling a complainer a kvetch or a k-vetch. So I'm sitting reading and Bonnie is in the next room going over her last lesson and reading aloud. It's hard to tell if she's clearing her throat or reciting a prayer. When she gets to a particularly juicy "Chuh" in the text I wonder if she might need the Heimlich maneuver. And so it goes. We've gotten to the point where Bonnie is explaining the meaning of the Jewish holidays to me and I'm becoming a more observant Jew by marriage. A member of the religious left as it were. And there's no sense kvetching about it. I'm answering to a higher power: Bonnie, when she's on a mission. And even if I did kvetch and complain, I'd just be preaching to the converted. Shalom. Fay Jacobs is the author of As I Lay Fryinga Rehoboth Beach Memoir and Fried & TrueTales from Rehoboth Beach, her new book to be released April 22. Contact her at www.fayjacobs.com. |
LETTERS From CAMP Rehoboth, Vol. 17, No. 2 March 9, 2007 |