Do You Really Know Anything About Your Neighbor?

While in a book club at our synagogue, we read books with Jewish themes. Most were of a historical nature. As we wrapped up one, we were encouraged to recommend the next one. I recommended The Faith Club, a book I had read and thoroughly enjoyed. This book was about 3 mothers - a Muslim, a Christian, and a Jew. Initially, they had come together post-9/11 to write a children's book that celebrates our similarities rather than our differences. Considering I was the only non-Jew in this book club, I thought it would be interesting to hear everyone's perspective on the book.

I was delighted that the group agreed to read the book. I was asked to address the Christian perspective, and we had plenty of folks to look at it from the Jewish perspective. When we were finished reading the book, I asked the group if my Muslim friend could join us at our next meeting to share the Muslim perspective. This was about 12 years ago - not too many years after 9/11, so I was delighted when they said, "Yes."

At that point, I just had to convince my friend, T,  to join us. For him, it would mean coming into a Jewish synagogue, not a typical place to find a Muslim. T surprised me and said yes, right away.

When T arrived that next Sunday morning, everyone in the book club stood to shake his hand - except for one gentleman, D. I didn't think much about it, since this gentleman was seated at the back of the room. The next two hours were filled with questions and answers, as we each got a better understanding of Islam and a new perspective on our fellow man. When T left, the conversation continued and the group was unanimously in favor of asking him if he'd be willing to return to our next meeting to explore the topic more thoroughly. T happily agreed to return.

At the conclusion of our second meeting, D, the gentleman who would not shake T's hand, approached T and asked him if he'd be willing to present at a local service organization he belonged to. Weeks later, when D introduced T to the other members of his organization, he said, "When I first met T, I thought ..." forgive me, but I can't even repeat what he said. However, he concluded with..."but today I call him friend." At that moment, I thought, "My work here is done." I felt like I had really made a difference by connecting a Jewish man and a Muslim man and had high hopes for where that would lead.

When I invited T to speak to my Jewish friends, I knew that I was taking a risk. I knew that relations were strained. However, this nice Catholic girl growing up in a generally Christian town and now raising Jewish children, had not realized how deep the divide still was for so many. For those of us who live in diverse communities, I wonder how often we get opportunities to truly understand each other's culture. For those who live in homogeneous communities, I am sure it is easy to misunderstand cultures that are different from your own.

In light of recent events, I'd like to share this article written by a young man, a Penn State Sophomore. He is much wiser than many of us. It is very easy to make assumptions about other people. Maybe it's time for the T's and the D's to come together for some civil discourse.

http://www.collegian.psu.edu/opinion/columnists/article_c750d330-861f-11e7-b923-c73da6100396.html 

Mom - My Eulogy 6 Years Late

I went to a funeral today - 6 years to the day from when my own mother passed away. The differences between a Catholic funeral and a Jewish funeral are strikingly different - at least in my diocese. When we met with the priest to plan Mom's funeral, he said outright that our church does not allow anyone to come up and speak about the deceased. Honestly, I had not given much thought to what happens at a Catholic funeral, until I had attended a few Jewish funerals. The service at the funeral home chapel or at the synagogue is a celebration of the person's life. Loved ones get up and share why what they most loved about the person, why they will be missed, and what the person meant to them. It may be one person who speaks or three or five. Considering that the clergy often do not know the deceased, it allows the moment to be real. It provides those in the room an opportunity to remember and to mourn.

Catholic funerals are a Mass at which family members play key roles - lectors for each reading, bringing up the gifts in the offertory procession, and readers of The Prayer of the Faithful. The casket is front and center. Prior to Mass, the priest speaks to the family and asks about the deceased. Then he gives a homily that refers to the person. The thing that distinguishes this Mass from any other is the incense that is offered up as the priests ritually walks around the casket. 

Catholics in my diocese have a viewing or wake before the funeral. This gives the family and friends a way to celebrate the person's life in small conversations around the room, as mourners pass by the (often open) casket and pay their respects to the immediate family. A viewing is foreign to most Jews. A Jewish friend who attended my mom's viewing was shocked to see the grandchildren and great grandchildren sitting around laughing and talking, with Mom laid out in the other room!  To us, it was second nature. In fact, with such a large family, Mom's funeral was a bit unorthodox. The receiving "line" was scattered all around the room as each of us received our friends and took turns sitting with Dad.

As I think back on the funerals for both of my parents and attend Jewish funerals, I can't help but wish that we had had the chance to get up and share our love for our mother with those who were there with us that day. It would have been nice for our friends to get a window on the world that was growing up with Mom.

Now...about Mom.

She was a 90 year old wife, mother, grandmother, and great-grandmother, and her greatest pride was her children's accomplishments.

Born in Philadelphia, she was the proud alumna of an all-girls Catholic high school. She and her husband were original owners of their home in one of the country's original planned communities, where they raised six children. Upon moving into their suburban home, they immediately became parishioners of the local Catholic Church and remained there for more than 55 years. 

While raising her children, Mom was a member of the Little League Ladies Auxiliary. She and her friends got together at least once a month for their Tuesday Night Club (which never met on Tuesday). We only used her special dessert dishes and coffee urn on the night when she hosted. Otherwise, they were stored in the closet under the stairs. 

When I was growing up, Mom sewed most of her own clothes - and mine too. She believed, like my grandmother did, that the seams should look as good on the inside as they did on the outside. 

Although she would never allow me to wear red shoes (they were not for "ladies" to wear), that didn't match the story Dad told me of the night they met on the dance floor. There was a mixer that consisted of each of the girls throwing one shoe into the center of the circle. Then the guys grabbed a shoe and that was who they danced with. Daddy told me that he had been "watching those legs all night" and knew that the red shoe belonged to her! (Aha!) They continued dancing throughout their long life together. I always knew where my parents would be on a Saturday night - he in his suit and she in her silver or gold sandals with matching jewelry, a flowing skirt, or satin palazzo pants. She even had a sequined butterfly shirt.

Mom was a huge Philadelphia Phillies fan, although she knew nothing about baseball until age 80. (She socialized during the boys' games and was known to yell "touch down!" after a home run.) 

Although primarily a homemaker, she worked as a secretary before marriage. Then, once I was in 7th grade, she went back to work in a factory making envelopes. Without realizing it, she was out in front as far as being a working mother - leaving for work after I went to school and arriving home with enough time to lay on the floor and put her feet up on the couch for 20 minutes before I got home from school. When Dad retired, they spent the first few months together all the time. Then she told him, "I married you for breakfast and dinner, but not for lunch. I'm going to work!" She spent many happy years dusting knick-knacks in a gift shop and talking with customers about how they were going to decorate their house. We met her at work for dinner twice a week. I never thought about it before, but I guess we were really trailblazers.

My Mom taught me so much about what it means to be a mother and a woman. I am very lucky to have had her as my mom. 

I Was Sad that We Were Going to Miss It

Made by My Daughter in College!

Months ago, I heard, "Mom, I am not going to miss playing in this concert for Passover." His father and I agreed. THE concert of the year was going to be held on the second night of Passover. Our family has always celebrated both nights with an extended family Seder; it looked like, due to our district's scheduling mix-up, including the kids' opportunity to play with a world-renowned musician from the other side of the planet, we were going to miss the second night.

Then, the news came that there would be a full rehearsal with the musician on the first night! PAUSE for effect. For those Christians reading this, that's sort of like saying that school is scheduling a mandatory baseball practice at midnight on Christmas Eve. You just don't do that. So, Mom and Dad have a conversation to decide how we're going to handle this. Yes, the show must go on. We figured if we're lucky, we'd make it to the Seder in time for a plate of food.

Fortunately, the rehearsal ended with plenty of time to get to our Seder. However, son was taking his time exiting the building. When I ran in to get him, he sighed and said, "Oh, I thought we weren't going." First question he asks is, "When am I going to get my homework finished?" Granted, as my kids hit high school age, they typically have homework over Spring Break and Winter Break; however, they have 5-10 days to do it. The Seder is 3 hours long on a school night. Why did he have to figure out when he was going to have to do homework? Passover, unlike most Jewish holidays, is a true celebration. We read through the story of the Exodus. We eat. We sing songs. So, why did my son have to figure out at what point he was going to slip out and do his homework?

As dinner turned into dessert, my went into another room and did his homework. Then, we returned to the table for our favorite part of the meal - singing. 

This year, we were missing 3 of our favorite people at the Seder - my daughter, niece, and nephew. Last year, daughter was able to come home from college for Passover. This year, since it falls during the week, she stayed at school. She called beforehand to wish us a Chag Sameach and tell us that she'd be going to the "traditional" Seder. As it turns out, there were 75 students there with an additional 300 at the shorter Seder downstairs. It's nice to know that she was surrounded by her people on Passover. She said, "It wasn't my Passover; they didn't sing the same songs or say the same prayer. But it was still Passover." On the second night, she joined with friends from her Birthright Israel trip, in the apartment of a trip leader. She was with a friend from home, who led the service. I hope that made it feel more like her Passover.

I sent my niece and nephew a video of us singing the family's favorite Passover song. My grown nephew was touched. This is the same song that often brought fear to my husband's family, as it became a tradition to have a water gun fight in the middle of it!

On the drive home at 10PM, with more homework yet to be done, I said, "I'm really glad we were able to be at the full Seder." This time, my son's response was, "Me too, I was sad that we were going to miss it."

Tonight, my daughter and her non-Jewish friends made "homemade" Matzoh Ball soup. Her paternal grandmother would be so proud.

Happy Passover. 

A Purim Story - in honor of my father's 100th birthday

Let's begin with saying that I am not good in the kitchen. In fact, it's one of my least favorite places to be. So, when my daughter comes home from college for Spring Break and wants to bake hamantaschen, of course, I say yes.

During the past two years, my daughter has not been home for Rosh Hoshanah or Yom Kippur. Last year we Face-Timed while we lit the Chanukah candles. I drove 8 hours round-trip in one day, so she could join us for Passover. This year, she'll be at college for all of Passover. Luckily, being part of an interfaith family, she gets to be home and celebrate Christmas with my family.

So, I was happy that my she wanted to bake for this weekend's Jewish holiday, Purim. Ironically, the cookies will be served to my Catholic family, since we will be celebrating my Dad's memory on what would have been his 100th birthday. My parents were all about family, and my Dad wanted to live to be 100, so my daughter and I decided to use his 100th birthday as an excuse to throw a party to bring our family together. It just happens to be Purim.

What is Purim?
For those of you who don't know what Purim is, it includes costumes, merry-making, and a reading of the Magillah, a story of when Haman - the bad guy - tries to kill all the Jews. Then, Queen Esther, part of an interfaith marriage, saves the Jews by going to her husband, the King, and begging him to pardon the Jews.

Here is a wonderful song my husband wrote about Purim. 

Purim Blues

Back to the kitchen

Baking with my daughter is a pleasure. 
She must have my mother-in-law's patience in the kitchen. Mom G. used to say that some of her best successes in the kitchen resulted from her biggest disasters. As you can see, making hamantaschen includes folding the cookies into Haman's hat. So, when the dough was very dry today, it began to 
crack and fall apart. Me? I would have thrown out the dough and given up in quite the huff. Not my girl! She stayed calm throughout the process, figured out a solution, and we now have a couple dozen cookies to celebrate her Catholic grandfather's birthday.


Mom's Kitchen

Celebrations in my husband's family are ornate affairs. They include home-made complicated recipes. Nothing is simple. My family was another story. In Mom C's house, food was simple. With five hungry boys and one girl to feed, I suppose she decided early-on that it was going to have to be easy. When we visited my parents' home, pepperoni and cheese were served (the irony of that does not escape me for those who may keep Kosher). Our birthday cakes were made in a tube pan by Betty Crocker, and the frosting came out of a can. For more birthdays than I can remember, the cake was lopsided, and Mom was frustrated that it never came out perfect. All birthday cakes were served with a scoop of Neapolitan ice cream. "Would you like chocolate, vanilla, or strawberry with your cake," they would ask. The reality of it was that no one cared. The point of having cake and ice cream was simple - to bring our family together.

So, in memory of my Mom, I made a Betty Crocker cake. Can't wait to taste it. As is par for the course, I forgot an ingredient and threw it in at the last minute. My daughter's patience must be wearing off on me. I didn't even curse or cry. The good news is that the cake rose to the occasion, so at least it will look good. It will be a yellow cake with chocolate frosting from a can, just like Mom would have made. Oh, and just in case, I bought a pretty, decorated chocolate cake too!

Happy 100th Birthday, 

Daddy! I miss you.

Merry Chanukah! Happy Christmas!

There is lots of discussion this year about the first night of Chanukah. It falls on Christmas Eve. That makes many people happy. Me? I say, "Ugh.

I've spent the past 19 years trying to separate the two.

When we received the invitation to attend the Chanukah celebration at our Synagogue, to be held a week early, I was confused. Why would a Jewish congregation be celebrating an 8-day-long holiday a week early? Just because it falls on Christmas? I called the Rabbi to ask. She told me that is a logistical thing. Most people have plans during the break. The kids are off from school, so they visit family, go on a trip, hang out with friends, or go to a movie. No one wants to commit to coming to Synagogue that week. So, despite my confusion, we went to the celebration. Many families brought their menorah; we did not. They were given the option to light 1 candle, all of the candles, or none. It was…odd.

Gifts

Our kids have always received Christmas gifts on Christmas morning (ostensibly only items that would fit in a stocking - that didn't last long). When they were younger, just like every kid who celebrates Christmas, they came bouncing into our bedroom before dawn to tell us it was time to see what Santa had brought. For Chanukah, they receive a gift a night - usually some combination of a big gift on the first night and small gifts on the other 7 nights. We often give them the option to open all of their gifts on the first night or spread them out through the 8 nights, but they have to agree. It has never happened that they agree to get them all in one night, so we went with a gift a night. If Christmas and Chanukah overlap at all, they generally don't receive a Chanukah gift on Christmas Eve or Day.

On Christmas morning, there is never any huge pile at our house, but there are overflowing stockings. Gifts, as you know, are expensive. So, we decided long ago that we'd give the kids little gifts and treats on Christmas and maybe one big gift. Then, we save the other big gifts to be from Mom and Dad for Chanukah. So, when the holidays overlap, I am always hoping that the gifts we gave them would balance each other out.

The Pleasure of Gift-Giving

However, when Chanukah comes before Christmas and exists as a holiday unto itself, I find great joy in the gift-giving experience. Lighting the candles each night brings our family together. Everything stops - before we sit down to dinner - as we sing the blessings and light the candles. Then, when the kids receive one gift, they enjoy that gift for a full 24 hours! During the years of hot toys, they may even get them before the other kids.

Christmas Eve

Second Cousins

Cousins

Tonight is Christmas Eve! Our family loves Christmas Eve. We spend it in the warmth of my niece's home with her family and quite a few of my other nieces, nephews, and great nieces and nephews, my brother and a sister-in-law. In years past, my parents were there. Gift-giving is at a minimum, and the night is centered around simply being together. Two years in a row, my daughter made a decision to go/not go on a trip because she didn't want to miss Christmas Eve/Day with my family. (More on that later this week.)

1st Night of Chanukah

Tonight, before we leave, we will set aside time to light the candles on the menorah. We'll probably choose the small fast-burning candles, so that the candles have a chance to burn all the way. In years past, when we have been in the midst of Chanukah, if we lit the candles at all on Christmas Eve, it would be after we came home. However, the first night is always special.

First Night

8 Nights of Chanukah

Everyone knows the song "The Twelve Days of Christmas." The days leading up to Christmas are busy, busy, busy. Baking, shopping, and wrapping consume us. Then, the week after Christmas is spent visiting with friends and family, relaxing, and just spending time with your spouse and children. This year, the entire 8 nights of Chanukah will fall during the window of Christmas Eve to New Year's Eve. Me? I say, "That's a shame." When the 8 nights fall in early to mid-December, my family gets 8 nights to stop everything and be together for the 15 minutes it takes to celebrate the holiday that night. We'll still do it this year, but it will be before or after a movie, wedged in during Eve's - an afterthought. I'll miss that moment in time this year.

Happy Chanukah! Merry Christmas!

Christmas Minyan

Last year, I spent Christmas night at Shabbat Services. We had spent the past 24 hours with my Catholic family. Christmas Eve in one house. Christmas dinner at another. On the way home, on a warm and rainy Christmas night, we decided to take a drive through the nearby light show. We passed the local Chinese restaurant, and it was packed. We knew that there were certainly enough Jews for a  minyan. My husband mentioned that there were services at our synagogue in an hour. I said, "I'm game." My daughter said that she'd like to go to services before returning to college. Son was not as enthusiastic, but he didn't complain either. So, after listening to Christmas carols on Pandora as we viewed the light show, I said good-bye to Christmas for the year by pausing the carols at the conclusion of the song. Then we pulled into the synagogue parking lot. We were the only interfaith family in attendance, but we weren't the only family. It was a peaceful - and enjoyable way to end the holiday.

Our Rabbi's d'var was all about balance. Although my response to her question about balance focused on career and family, I just now realized how, at that very moment, I was balancing my role as an interfaith mother. At that point, with my parents gone, I was wondering why I'm still trying to walk this balance beam. I'm wondering…

During services, my son, who by no fault of his own, had a rather unique formal Jewish upbringing, sang out strong - reading either the Hebrew or having memorized the blessings. My daughter, a freshman in college, was there by choice. We had done what we set out to do.

Good Shabbos, Christmas.

Shalom, Christmas

Music is such an important part of our family's life. My parents met each other dancing, and they danced their entire lives together. My father-in-law is a Cantor, and my husband, daughter, and son are all musicians. We are surrounded by music.

So, sometime in early November, when my children start asking when the radio station is going to be all-Christmas, I bristle. I tell them that if it starts before Thanksgiving, I just can't listen to it. Christmas music should be special. For me, it brings back all kinds of December memories, so I'd prefer that it not start in mid-November. When I hear The Little Drummer Boy, I think about the living nativity. When we sing O Come All Ye Faithful, it reminds me that my Dad wouldn't let us put the baby Jesus in the manger until late on Christmas Eve. We Three Kings is a reminder that the Three Wise Men shouldn't be placed around the nativity until January 6th - the feast of the Epiphany. Rudolph and I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus bring back memories of singing along with Mitch Miller. I try to make all of these connections for my children, at least letting them in on the memories, even if the religious ones don't resonate with them.

Singing Stille Nacht

Our family has built a musical Christmas tradition that feels familiar to all of us. It is a week away. I am deep into the prep at this point, and as much as I may whine about it, I enjoy it. I turn on a sappy Hallmark channel movie or sing along to Christmas carols, as I clean the house from top to bottom. We host an annual holiday party with a typical crowd of about 100 (and invite 200). It’s a real mix of Christians and Jews. Everyone comes together, in our interfaith home, to celebrate the season. Our house is decorated with snowmen, carolers, ornament trees, and menorahs. It is comfortable for everyone, and it brings them joy. My Jewish husband plays the piano, and our family and friends join us to sing Christmas carols and a few Chanukah songs. 

Lots of Little Ones - All Grown Up Now

Many of my brothers, sisters-in-law, nieces, nephews, spouses, and children come. When my parents joined us, they danced during their favorite songs. The year Mom passed away, it was bittersweet when we sang, Grandma Got Run Over by a Reindeer. Another year, my very dear friend stepped up to the piano to belt out Santa Baby" with me. Did you know that there are lots of Jews who love to sing Christmas carols? One of my vivid memories from this day is of my Jewish sister-in-law and my father-in-law, the Cantor, singing Stille Nacht (Silent Night) at the piano.  There are a few people who have made it every year - for 24 years. Many have come for at least 20! Each year, there is someone who joins us for the first time. Our friends' children have grown up coming to our party. This year, a little girl who wore her velvet Christmas dress at age 4, will bring her boyfriend at age 19. Now, our children invite their high school and college friends to join us. When, in November, people start asking "When is your party," you know you've created a tradition.

Getting Ready Many Years Ago

Our children enjoy preparing for the big day, and they look forward to inviting new friends. My daughter even postponed her Birthright Israel trip, because it would overlap our holiday party. One boy, after coming for the past 8 or so years, visited a few days after the party to make gingerbread houses. He was surprised that we were playing Christmas music. "I thought you were Jewish," he said. "We are, but haven't you been coming to our holiday party for years?" He responded, "Yes, but I thought you just did that for the Christians!"

You know what? I think we're doing it right.