Awkwardly Jewish: Entering the Tribe

 The Mikveh 

Here’s a picture Leslie took before the mikveh at the Los Gatos J.C.C. where it is housed.

Rabbi Shifra with the hat, Deborah the attendant next to her mural likeness,
Dawn by Shifra, my friend Linda - who encouraged me greatly - next to me.

As I mentioned in my last post, I had to get very clean for the mikveh — the ritual bath in which I would emerge reborn as a Jew. No foreign substances. Nude, of course. The idea is to be as close as possible to the condition of a newborn… or at least, as close as a 70-year-old woman can get. I’m pretty much a natural woman without embellishments, but I did have to remove my two rings.

It was my fingernails that were the issue.

My nails are strong, practical tools. I use them to grip, scrape, scratch, pry, dig, pick-up, manipulate, and even unscrew. They’ve served me well through my years as an electrician, maintenance person, and homeowner. While they’re useful, they also get quite dirty. I’ve never liked gloves — they just get in the way of being able to use my multi-tool nails.

Filthy but useful!

There was no way I was going to get them truly clean and keep them long. So, I cut them. Emotionally painful! I feel comparatively useless on so many tasks. They’ll grow back, but slowly. Nobody said becoming Jewish didn’t involve sacrifice.

In the mikveh area, Deborah, my attendant left me alone to get undressed and cover myself with a towel. At this point, she came in and did a quick inspection of my fingers and toes to make sure there was no lingering gunk. I passed, thanks to my fine grooming. 

I then handed her my towel and entered the water. She held it up to preserve what privacy she could (not that I cared), even though her job was to make sure that during each of the three immersions, I was fully underwater and not touching anything else — at least for a moment.

Not me, not Deborah - but this is the idea

Behind a curtain were Rabbi Shifra, Leslie, and Linda. They heard all the blessings. I said one, sang two. (See my last post if you’re curious about them.) Then I did the ritual:

Blessing — immerse. Blessing — immerse. Blessing — immerse. Voilà: Jew.

I had complicated feelings. Excitement, happiness—but also a bit of a letdown. I still had the Beit Din ahead, so it was hard to feel fully done, as I was supposed to.

Afterward, Deborah told me to float for a while and enjoy the warm water. There was a rubber ducky bobbing along beside me. How could I not love that?

Of course, I had one typical-me moment: I bumped my head on the railing during the last immersion. Not too hard, but enough to sting. This is a thing I do. I am a head-bumper. So, still behind the curtain, I called out to Leslie, “I bumped my head,” knowing she’d roll her eyes but find it semi-funny. (She worries about dementia from my many head bumps and wishes I weren’t a klutz. Dream on, Leslie.)

After I got dressed, Deb gave me one of the best hugs of my life. That put me in the moment. I walked out with a huge smile, and as I stepped into the locker room, I was greeted by a rousing chorus of the “Mazel Tov!” song. That was so wonderful. (See the video from Rock Shabbat below for the tune.)

Later, after Dawn had her turn, Rabbi Shifra gave us both blessings. I don’t remember exactly what she said to me—but I felt seen, heard, and loved. It was special.

I just wish nails grew faster.

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The Beit Din

This is the rabbinical court that officially decided whether I could join the tribe. They said yes. It was a done deal before I even walked in.

The Beit Din included Rabbi Paula (the senior rabbi at Temple Beth El), Rabbi Shifra (who guided me through the conversion process), and Rabbi Deborah (a retired rabbi). They had all read the three essays I wrote — on God, the Jewish people, and Jewish learning — and asked questions based on them.

Maybe because it was already a foregone conclusion, or maybe because I’m just a babbler under pressure, I kind of rambled. One moment still makes me cringe: I might be the only person in Jewish history to mention the Christmas lobster during a Beit Din. (I was talking about Leslie's irreverent crèche during the Christmas holidays.) Holy inappropriate!

We also discussed more serious topics, like my complicated relationship with God. At one point, Rabbi Deborah responded to something I said with, “Ah yes, that is your issue!” Yeah. I’m an atheist—maybe now a deeply agnostic one?—and my essays reflected a lot of careful God-wrestling. Plenty to qualify. (For those who don’t know: Israel means “wrestles with God.” See Genesis 32:28.)

I wasn’t fooling anyone, not that I tried to. I never wrote anything that wasn’t true to me. I think they appreciated that I gave it an honest effort—that I stayed open to some kind of concept of God after a lifetime of disbelief, even though I’m clearly missing the God gene. I’ll publish all my essays sometime.

They also asked how I felt about the mikveh. I told the truth: I was a little nervous about the whole thing. I was happy, but I didn’t feel particularly emotional. It’s not my strength. Rabbi Paula had me close my eyes and try to feel the moment. It was a lovely gesture, but I’m just not touchy-feely, and I couldn’t fake it. Honestly, I didn’t want to fake it. I’m a failure at having profound in-the-moment feelings.

In any case, I think they knew exactly who they were welcoming into the fold. And I do feel very welcomed. And content.

I’ll be a very good, if awkward, Jew.

One last note: when you convert, you take a Hebrew name. I chose Yehudit, in honor and gratitude for my French fille de mon cœur (daughter of my heart), Judith. The name comes from Judah, which is derived from yadah—and in the feminine form, it means “let her be praised.” Absolument!

Judith

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Rock Shabbat

About once a month, Temple Beth El holds Rock Shabbat — a musical, high-energy Friday night service filled with singing and occasional dancing. At this particular one, Dawn and I were formally introduced to the congregation, as was a newly married couple who had just joined the Temple.

Here is a video of Rabbi Paula and Shifra giving us blessings.

Dawn and I were to recite together the famous lines that Ruth said to Naomi (see last post). I had practiced them — easy as they are — so they rolled smoothly and with feeling from my lips. There was also a card with the words in our hands, though I didn’t even look. Sharon Rose, who had converted in January, had given me that card weeks earlier, saying those were the lines we’d be asked to say.

I knew there was one more line in the full passage, but I assumed they were omitting it. It is: “Where you die, I will die, and there I will be buried.”  But, no - the lines were there if I had just looked down! So, I stumbled verbally when I realized I needed to finish the passage. Damn — I was almost perfect. But, awkward instead.

And now the video of Rabbi Paula giving us our certificate, followed by the rousing “Mazel Tov” song. While I mouthed along as enthusiastically as I could muster —  please don’t study my lips too closely. “Mazel Tov” are the only words I actually ever sang with mumbling along elsewhere.

As a post-script, Leslie and I officially joined the congregation that day and, two days later, we attended Congregation Day at the Temple, where this picture was taken by Shmuel Thaler for the Santa Cruz Sentinel.  In our Temple, your spouse is welcomed to join, but I want to make clear that Leslie is absolutely not a Jew or religious. That said, she has been very supportive throughout and, without that support, I probably wouldn't have done it. So, thank you, Leslie!! 

The Sentinel caption:  Rabbi Shifra Weiss-Penzias wears her trademark hat while organizing members of Temple Beth El at the Aptos synagogue on Sunday for their first official congregational photo since 1989. Weiss-Penzias comes from eight generations of rabbis on her mother’s side, including her grandfather, an Orthodox rabbi in the Bronx. According to George Fogelson in “Between the Redwoods and the Bay: The Jewish Community of Santa Cruz, California from the Gold Rush to the 21st Century,” the first Jews arrived in Santa Cruz County in the 1850s. In 1860 the county’s population was slightly less than 5,000 and included 15 Jews. The Jewish community grew each year and in 1934 opened its first permanent place of worship in a house on what is now the 500 block of Chestnut Street in downtown Santa Cruz. In 1954 the community moved to a site along the railroad tracks at the corner of Bay and California streets and took the official name, Temple Beth El. That congregation moved to its current location in Aptos in 1989. Other Jewish organizations and congregations also currently exist in Santa Cruz including Chadeish Yameinu Jewish Renewal congregation, Santa Cruz Hillel at UC Santa Cruz, Hadassah Santa Cruz, Jewish Voice for Peace and two Chabad Centers and a Chabad Student Center. Additionally, the Center for Jewish Studies at UC Santa Cruz hosts lectures, exhibits, conferences and colloquia. (Shmuel Thaler – Santa Cruz Sentinel