Fall and the Samain Moon
Wednesday gratefuls: Darkness. Quiet. Rain. Snow coming. Cool nights. Rich Levine. Ron. Alan. Joan. Tom and Diane. Israel. Gaza. Palestinians. Settlers. War. Peace. Turkey. Erdogan. Anti-semitism. Pro-Palestinians. I’m pro-Palestinian, but anti-Hamas. Political failure has drastic consequences. Netanyahu. Israel’s protest movement. Aid to Gaza. Feeling the walls of world opinion closing in. An olive tray. Biet She’an. The Decapolis. Dinner tonight of those of us who didn’t go to Israel. An oddly bonding experience.
Sparks of Joy and Awe: Internet
One brief shining: That glass tray with curved dividers will have olives in it tonight at Mark Lehrner’s place: kalamata, castelvetrano, nicoise, olives stuffed with garlic, olives stuffed with blue cheese and represents my passing on making Middle Eastern food, yet also wanting to contribute to this consolation prize dinner where my fellow non-travelers will share research we have done on sites of interest in Israel.
Here’s how it goes for me. 19 days after Hamas viciously murdered women, men, and the elderly, children, beheading babies. I would have left for Jerusalem today. Would have had 5 days to roam around this ancient city, holy to so many. Eating Israeli breakfasts, crashing when I got tired. Learning from the wonderful museums and the living history of the Arab quarter, the souk, the old city, the Western Wall. Al Aqsa. By talking to folks of diverse backgrounds and points of view. Then on Samain, the Celtic New Year, I would have spoken with three Reconstructionist rabbi’s, had my penis pricked for one drop of blood, gotten naked and immersed in a mikveh, and spent the rest of the tour in my first days as a converted Jew. No. Not gonna happen.
Insignificant in the larger picture? Of course. Very significant among my fellow travelers and especially so for Veronica and me who planned to become Jews in Jerusalem. Hard to find the right words, but I feel like something important, something life altering has happened. Because all these things did not happen though I had intended them to. Paradox.
My conversion will always be the one that didn’t happen in Jerusalem. Because the whole world of Judaism got sucked into this desperate and ill-understood conflict. Again. Still. And I got sucked into it, too. Willingly. That was the point after all, to say yes, these are my people. I cast my lot with them for now and always.
The not happening has become something that happened. That changed me by immersing me not in the mikveh but in a dark and troubled sea. Which perhaps because of my nature has only made me feel more certain of my choice, more bonded to CBE and worldwide Jewry. These, my people, are in trouble. This is when we stand up and declare who we are.
I am a Jew. Not ritually, not yet, but I am already a Jew. One caught in the vice of ancient blood feuds and unable to see a clear path out of them. Yet I see this clearly: we will figure the way out together.
