Zionism: It's Complicated

After the Holocaust, the rallying cry for Jews became "Never Again." Never again would we be in the position to be exterminated. Never again would we be like lambs to the slaughter, unable to run, unable to fight, unable to escape. Zionism was a huge part of that protection. Jewish immigrants were turned away from other countries and sent back to Germany to die, but with a nation of our own we would always have a place to go.

When I changed my name, I dropped my middle name and moved my maiden name to the middle. Why? "Because it's Jewish." As a blue eyed blonde with freckles, there's little "Jewishness" about me. I was always at least recognizably Jewish by my name, but my American first name (of Greek origin) next to my husband's Italian last name was not going to cut it. But its not just so people I meet will be able to tell, not just so I'll fit in at synagogue. It's also... just in case. Israel's Law of Return allows any Jew to be granted a visa to settle permanently in Israel. If the unthinkable happens, how will I prove it?

Does it shock you to know that everyday people- your neighbors, your friends- have these fears? I'm sure you want to tell me "There's no way it could happen here!" I hope you're right. But sometimes, I just don't know. When terrorists come to our country and fly planes into our buildings, I worry. When people believe they have the right to legislate their religion into civil law, to mandate teacher-led prayer in public schools and creationism in text books... when politicians say "freedom of religion does not mean freedom from religion," I worry. And though none approach the scale of the Holocaust, genocide is still going on (Bosnia, Rwanda, Cambodia, Darfur...). We either can't or won't stop it there... could we stop it here? Being Jewish means that the fear of extermination exists somewhere in the back of your mind: It happened before. What if it happens again?

Without Israel, Jews are the only major world religion without a homeland or a majority in a country, and that is a very dangerous position. We need Israel as insurance, as protection. There's also another reason, even more emotional. If you do not know what it is like to be a minority in your own country, then you cannot understand what its like to visit your homeland.

When we visited Israel on the honeymoon, we were only there for 2 days. I learned Hebrew in elementary and middle school but since then it has fallen into disrepair, to the point that I could barely follow a conversation in Hebrew, let alone conduct one. But being surrounded by all that Hebrew felt comforting and familiar. I don't keep kosher, but being surrounded by kosher restaurants felt... good. Having grown up in the US, I have always known that the majority of the people around me are not like me. Here it was different. I said last week that I usually feel like I have a nerd soul. But standing in Jerusalem... well, there's a bit of Jewish soul in there too. I may have been a foreigner, but I was surrounded by my people.

Recently, reading about the Alice Walker kerfuffle I've been trying to distill my thoughts about Israel. There is a part of every Jew that needs Israel- their homeland, their safety net. Because of this, many Jews- even the less religious- will endlessly, ferociously, defend Israel, and blame Palestinians and surrounding Arab nations for causing the problem. They will assume anyone who is anti-Israel is an anti-Semite.

But that's not true. Remember the video I posted on Wednesday? When people on both sides would rather get rid of the other than live peacefully together, both sides are the problem.  Consider how controversial the creation of the State of Israel was:  Britain was occupying Palestine and decided, with no regard for the people who already lived there, that they'd give it to someone else. Essentially, Israel was created as a United Nations sanctioned occupation, in no small part to assuage guilt over the Holocaust. So, not the best start.

I do believe Israel has earned the right to exist. They fought and won 3 wars and winning wars is how basically every other country earned their right to exist too. But I also believe that occupied Palestine was a victim there and two wrongs don't make a right.  I believe the two-state solution in which Palestinians are granted freedom and autonomy is the desirable outcome. If people would stop trying to kill each other long enough to reach that agreement.

Can you be anti-Israel without being an anti-Semite? I think it depends on the extent of the anti-Israel sentiment. The solution to peace in the Middle East cannot be eradicating the State of Israel any more than it can be eradicating Palestine. But I don't think that anyone who criticizes the government of Israel is automatically attacking Jews. We need to step back and remember that its politics, not personal.

But for Jews it will always be a little bit personal, because somewhere inside each of us, Israel matters. I don't just visit Israel or see it on a map, I carry it in my soul.

One Wish

I happened on this video a few months ago, which I think pinpoints the problem of the Israel-Palestine relations. (Fair warning: Watch it and try not to cry, I dare you.)

(via Upworthy)

I think most people see a message of peace, of hope. I think that's what they wanted you to see. But you know what I saw? Hate. How many Jews said their wish was no more Muslims in Israel? How many Muslims said their wish was no more Jews in Palestine? And how many of them were children?!

When we visited Israel for the honeymoon we saw the attempts to coexist, first-hand. Jericho, a Palestinian city, where our Israeli tour guide would be forbidden from entering. A checkpoint between the West Bank and Jerusalem. Metal detectors, x-ray machines, and armed guards checking everyone who leaves the Muslim quarter and enters the rest of Jerusalem. Monitored and patrolled fences on the Jordanian border. Barbed wire. So many guns.

It was truly heartbreaking. My wish is that people would stop teaching their children to hate, and instead teach them to learn from, love, and respect their neighbors. 

What's your wish?

Finding our Spiritual Home

Recently I wrote this about conservative Judaism:

I maintain that a sect that won't let its clergy officiate your interfaith wedding, but once you're married will allow you into the fold isn't really that welcoming, but that's an argument for another day.

Well, today is that day.

While wedding planning, I looked high and low for a rabbi in Houston, and came up empty. If you've been reading awhile, you know the story pretty well. And while I have nothing against the rabbi who did perform our ceremony, I do wish it had been a local rabbi at a synagogue that we could attend together as a new family. I wish that planning our wedding ceremony would also have been putting down roots as a family, in a congregation.

What saddens me most is that it would have been like that, if we were going to raise our children Catholic. Through the months of premarital counseling we became friendly with the Deacon, familiar with the church, and could have done that even more if we were trying to put down roots there.

It upsets me on both a personal level and an community level. Personally, I wish we were not denied this opportunity and then told later "ok, you can come in now," which strikes me as awfully "love the sinner, hate the sin" of them. As a member of the Jewish community, I hate that Conservative Judaism might be turning interfaith families away because they are less welcoming than the "other" faith. One of Dan's coworkers is Jewish and married to a Catholic woman. They have it even worse than we do, due to the standard of matrilineal descent (considering a person to be born Jewish only if their mother was Jewish at the time of their birth). I wonder how many families like ours and theirs leave Judaism due to the lack of welcome, especially when most Christian denominations would welcome the whole family with open arms, unburdened as they are with religion by birth.

Now, Dan and I have to confront this problem head-on. For the past 5 years I have attended Chabad, a welcoming but ultra-Orthodox community. While they wouldn't officiate my wedding, they have invited us both to holidays and dinners and events. Because of the personal commitment required for an orthodox conversion, and the emphasis on having a Jewish soul, they would never attempt to convert my husband just because he married me. And because I am Jewish, they will consider our children fully Jewish.

But. I've written before about my desire not to raise my children Orthodox because I value gender equality and non-strict gender roles. Even before I was dating Dan, I would have the same intention to one day join a "regular" temple in which to raise my children. It's more difficult for Dan at Chabad, too, where he would have to sit separately from me on the men's side, where I can't help him follow along, explain things to him, translate Hebrew for him.

A reform rabbi would have performed our ceremony. A few I spoke to would have done it- no strings attached- were they available on our date. A few more would have done it if we were congregants but did not perform weddings at all for non-members. In addition to these particular synagogues being very far from where we live and therefore not feasible for us to actually attend regularly (in effect we would have joined for the sake of being members and getting an officiant, a rather expensive proposition), Reform Judaism is not quite observant enough for my personal taste. What I want is conservative Judaism. What I've always wanted is conservative Judaism.

But how do I get past the feeling that they don't want us?

How do I accept that they wouldn't help me create my interfaith family, but now that I have one they're willing to take me back? How do I accept that their stated goal is conversion of the non-Jewish spouse?

How do I allay the fear that they will talk down about interfaith marriage to my children in Hebrew school, behind our backs?

How do I accept that by a stroke of biological luck they will consider my children fully Jewish, but won't do the same for families like our friends described above, where only the father is Jewish?

How do I trust them to be our spiritual home and to take care of our family? In short, I don't know that I can.

A New Direction

When I started this blog, I wanted to get healthier and more active and thought the accountability to internet strangers would help. And it definitely did! Knowing that every week I would have to report when I did- and didn't- workout gave me the motivation to be more diligent with training. I had been reading some fitness blogs for awhile and thought the community looked friendly and welcoming (for the most part, it is) and I wanted to give it a try.

But here's the truth... I am not a fitness blogger. I am not one of those people who looks forward to workouts. I don't run because I am a runner, I run because I like to eat and also fit into my pants. I sign up for races because I like the challenge, and because committing to a race means I'll have to do it, and if I have to do it then I'll have to train, which means I might still fit in my pants when it's over.

This is not to say that I didn't enjoy the accomplishment of finishing the half marathon or the triathlon. I loved both of those (well, for the half that more true after I could walk again) and am already eager to plan my next races for each event. But I want to focus on other aspects of my life.

Nerds-in-love.net was the domain name that Dan and I bought for our wedding website. After the wedding was over, I cancelled our wedding website but kept the domain name for some future use. And now its the new home of my blog. (If you subscribe in a reader you may need to update your subscription to point to the new page; although spaceysteph.blogspot.com address will redirect, I'm not sure how it will affect apps.)

The Nerds In Love name was inspired by a comment from my rabbi's wife when I brought my Catholic boyfriend to Sukkot dinner almost 3 years ago. "If you have a Jewish soul, you have a Jewish soul mate," she said to me. I came back to this thought for months, as things became more serious between me and Dan, as I considered that he was perhaps more future-husband than fling.

It's true that we don't have religion in common, but we do have other things in common. While our names for God and the rituals we relate to him through are different, I believe we share faith in the same God. Many of my coworkers actively try not to date inside NASA, but I loved that we could talk about our days using so easily, could use technical terms and shorthand. I loved that we could both look at the sky and see the same desire to explore. I may be Jewish, but I don't define myself solely by my Jewishness. I define myself often by my nerdiness. I have a Nerd soul. And so does my husband. Nerd soulmates.

Though people thought it was cute, and most assumed it related to our Mission Control engagement or was predictive of a space-themed wedding, "Nerds in Love" was part of what I consider to be our actual wedding theme: What we have in common is more important than what divides us.

On the revamped blog, I'll continue to explore interfaith marriage (and maybe one day, interfaith babies!). I have more to say about being Jewish in America, especially now that I have a front row seat to how "the other half" lives. There's another half marathon on our horizon and you'll hear about that too (because, still, accountability to the internet makes me try harder.) I'll keep showing you yummy food and fun adventures and the occasional tales from mission control. This is now Nerds in Love, and this is our story.

Houston Eats: RDG for Houston Restaurant Weeks

After the triathlon, we came home to clean up and take a quick nap before heading out to a 12:30 brunch reservation at RDG (named for it's chef-owner Robert Del Grande). It's also #35 on the Top 100 list that we've decided to follow around town. It's in the fancy Galleria area of Houston and you can tell from the decor, the prices, and the Lamborghini parked out front.

Wearing 3/4 sleeves and a maxi dress to cover my body markings!

Their HRW menu was a 3 course brunch for $35, which I decided was perfect for post-triathlon... I sure was rungry and I was not disappointed.

We started with mimosas! (bottomless for $9 and I definitely feel I drank my money's worth!)

 

First course: Cold corn soup with queso fresco and chipotle chiles in adobo for Dan

...and smoked salmon on toast with a fennel salad and some to-die-for lemony cream dressing all over everything for me. I scraped the plate clean.

Main course: A fancy version of steak and eggs (huevos rancheros style) for Dan- there was an amazing sear on that steak and the rest was spicy and delicious.

 I had the crab and potato hash with a fried egg. Two standout sauces here too- the white mustard cream sauce on the bottom, and the salsa verde on top.

 Finally, for dessert: A chocolate bread pudding for Dan, and a pecan pie for me. I love that the desserts were both individual sizes rather than slices of a larger dessert. Too cute.

So delicious. We'll definitely be back!