Questions without answers
burn in the flame
of the Havdalah candles.
Twisted wax of blue and white
drip to the end of the Sabbath
sung out with the strum of a guitar
but my questions remain.
What does it mean to be a Jew?
Racial history of a tribal people
etched into stone
and into the flesh of an arm.
Pain of rejection
and loneliness
as you fast,
light candles,
eat special food off of pink glass plates
learn a language nobody speaks
celebrate holidays nobody knows.
Christmas carols come from other homes
but our menorah plays
Ma ozur Y’shu a ti
eight candles flickering flames
of pride
announce to all
“Jews live here.”
Always a symbol of difference
the yellow star
the pointed hat
the tallis.
But that was years ago.
My search continues.
A search that started on a cool spring night
running with friends to find
Elijah.
He never came.
We never found him.
I chanted to the memory of grandparents lost
on the bima of adulthood.
I became a woman
through the words of my haftorah
but they took on more meaning the following year
asked to repeat my performance
with no ceremony attached.
I sang with pride.
Where did my pride go?
Rejected by my community when we could not pay;
rejected by a Rabbi who could not see the value
of a star and a cross printed on the same t-shirt,
not on top of each other
but reflecting the value of
differing beliefs.
The circle of equality in difference.
Was I still a Jew?
Judaism rediscovered in the middle of Japan
a Passover celebration with Israelis
bonded by a ceremony
a language
a song.
Rejoicing over non-kosher food
and a smoke that brought us closer to heaven
floating from spirituality
and community.
Am I still part of that community?
Being a Jew is
contradiction
confliction
reality
confusion.
It is kinship and isolation.
It is daunting and authentic
It is who I am.
I am a Jew
but I am also a Buddhist.
I am a Hindu.
I am a Wicca.
I am all religions and I am no religion.
I am belief and disbelief.
I search for answers
in a world of prayer and ceremony
in spirituality that feels
beyond my grasp.
I want to dance in glory
a circle of holiness and faith,
celebrate love and essence,
rejoice in community.
I want to honor both earth and spirit.
I am Apache
I am rebel.
I am black.
I am white.
I am outsider.
I am Jew
I am lost.
I am found.


Nov 19, 2011 @ 13:10:59
I can’t identify personally with the history of Judaism but I can read as you bear witness. As for the sense of connection and disconnection from the religion of your upbringing, in case you didn’t already know, you’re not alone. That experience in Japan, sounds truly magical – have you written about it here somewhere?
Nov 19, 2011 @ 18:42:13
I don’t think I’ve written about that particular event, but I might. I’ll have to look through my Japan posts. (To be honest, I probably haven’t because the “smoke” I refer to wasn’t exactly the legal kind.)