Hebrew Union College and Tears
Today we are on the campus of Hebrew Union College, the rabbinical school of the Reform movement. We started the morning in the campus synagogue with huge windows overlooking the Old City of Jerusalem. Just like the last time I came to the HUC campus, this morning I cried.
A lot.
Yes, I'm tired and I cry when I'm tired. More than that, when I come to the HUC campus, I know that on these grounds nobody questions the validity of my conversion or my Jewishness. It is a knot of tension that I carry between my shoulders and spine as I walk around Israel. It's not top of mind anymore, not like on my first trip, but I know it is there because when I cross the threshold to this campus, I cry.
I don't cry at the Kotel. It doesn't pack an emotional punch for me, although I really enjoy going there and go often when I'm in Israel. This weekend, we took two midnight trips to the Kotel. I leave notes in the cracks of the wall. I lean my forhead on the cool stone. I say the Sh'ma and wonder what prayers I "should" be saying.
I enjoy the symphony of noise in the plaza at the kotel as Jews greet shabbat on Friday evening. I appreciate the peaceful silence at two in the morning. I love the cool stone on my face and hands. I stare at the notes, overflowing from the wall and on the plaza ground, imagining what petitions people have made and what thanksgiving has been offered.
But I don't cry. I was not overwhelmed by emotion. I didn't get that punched in the gut feeling that I get during the amidah on some shabbats at home. Within the walls of the Hebrew Union College, I cry. I realize that I've been holding my breath, waiting to be called out to defend my Jewish status.
The rabbis who supervised my conversion, and those who supervise similar conversions around North America, all pass through the space I was in this morning. The converts they welcome to the Jewish people have strings that tie them back to that room and this campus. On this block in Jerusalem, I know that nobody official will doubt me. This is where I feel most at home in all of Jerusalem.
((HUG)) Isn't that the truth? We never realize what we're holding in, until
a point of release comes. I'm glad you found that! Remember how it feels,
and carry it back home with you. You can think about it when the tension
wants to return. Don't let it--be the beautiful person God created you to
be, and live freely in that identity. :-)
There is nothing weird or irreverent. you are voicing a sentiment that many
other jews have regarding the Kotel. Spiritual elevation is all in the
mind. Some people experience it in the Grand Canyon, some when their child
is born and some when they visit a wall of an ancient temple. None is more
"Valid" than the other.
Awww leah jones. As long as I'm around you will always have a home in
Jerusalem. Now I know I'm one of those people, you know what I'm talking
about... but that has never kept us from fanning that spark of Judaism that
we both share and hopefully turning it into a flame that will provide both
warmth and illumination. Thank you for joining me for Shabbat. Mi cassa es
su cassa. And those Chicago mints? They have a hechsher! Yay!
kotel shmotel. i'm with you, my friend, i definitely find my own places of
spiritual connection in israel and the kotel just isn't it. beautiful, yes.
communal, definitely. controlled by the rabbanut in a way that makes me
crazy and sucks anything spiritual out of the experience for me? yep.
You touched me with this one especially. I think it was the phrase,
"waiting to be called out to defend my Jewish status." I have a similar
feeling in several realms of life. Where does this feeling come from, this
holding of breath, this tight expectation that another shoe will drop
before we're ready to catch it? How did we get here? Can you trace the
growth of this feeling? I'm really interested in hearing your answer.
Shalom,
emrys
