A bump in the road.

In Salt Lake City we made a lot of friends and had a very positive experience with the Jewish community. I started teaching sunday school (7th grade; and found out I am not good with middle-schoolers). My wife became a "kosher cop" of sorts. She would go to various establishments and verify that they used only kosher ingredients and therefore could be used at the synagogue. We went to adult education classes in making Shabbat. We helped organize events for Jewish students at the university. We went to services every Friday night and Saturday morning. I also went most Sundays, Mondays, and Thursdays; and I bought my first pair of t'fillin. Basically, we were enjoying being active members of our synagogue and the Jewish community.

We also learned how to make a Jewish home by spending times with Jews in their homes... especially Shabbos and holidays. One of those Friday nights out (we drove on Shabbos in those days) while discussing our family history, I mentioned that my mother had had a conversion (Reform) when I was six. "So your mother wasn't Jewish when you were born?", my host asked. "Right.", I said. "So then, you aren't Jewish.", my host said. "Oh... right.", I responded.

I had known somewhere in the back of my mind that "Jewishness" goes through the mother; I had just never applied that idea to myself. So agreeing that I wasn't Jewish wasn't so much expressing a new idea as it was simply acknowledging long known but unexplored truth. Like saying the american flag has thirteen red and white stripes. True but relatively uninteresting until you want to make a flag and can't remember whether the top stripe is red or white (it's red). The fact that my mother wasn't Jewish and therefore I was not Jewish wasn't so interesting until now... when we were trying to build a Jewish home.

So here I was, starting to keep kosher, go to synagogue, observing the holidays, and I wasn't even Jewish! Of course I could take care of that by simply converting. On the other hand, it also gave me an opportunity to ask myself what was I really doing and why. I think that is an important thing for anyone to do, but we (I) don't; or, at least, didn't. Actually this was only the first time that I had to confront my motivations, and it wouldn't be the last (more about that later).

I'd love to say that this pushed me to really consider my motivations and look deeply into my beliefs... but it didn't. I don't mean to say that I didn't think about it. I had a few weeks of thinking that this was kind of cool. I discussed with friends the sort of surrealism of the situation -- "knowing" I was Jewish but having the opportunity to choose to be Jewish. Going through different arguments about why I should or shouldn't do it; but, in truth, there was never any question. Through it all there was no doubt in my mind that I would do it. The sky didn't open, no chorus of angels, nothing but the fact that I knew I was Jewish. Of course I intended to go through with the conversion.

Now all I had to do was convince the Reform Jewish Rabbi to let me convert. What was the problem? Here is someone who wants to make a real commitment and the Rabbi is balking? Of course, because his religion -- the Reform Jewish Religion -- had declared that Judaism can also be transmitted through the father (see, for example, Reform Movement's Resolution on Patrilineal Descent). I was cirucmcised, had had a Bar Mitzvah, and attended synagogue regularly... nothing else needed be done. So the conservative cantor and a few other knowledgeable laymen and I all argued with him. In the end, the Rabbi did not participate in the conversion, but did officiate at the ensuing marriage.

By the way, this was not the last time I would have to argue with a Rabbi to allow me to convert. More on that later; but first... my first conversion.

This is the place!

There is a memorial just outside of Salt Lake City called the "This is the Place" Monument. I thought, "Cool! They have a sense of humor about their religion." Thus began my education about living in Utah. They were serious. Brigham Young had woken up from a fever long enough to say the very deeply inspiring and wise words (note sarcasm), "This is the place"... and they had memorialized! They didn't even try to make it sound better. Good grief. Thus began my education about religion outside of California. Namely, some people honestly took their religious beliefs seriously! I was shocked. I'd grown up in California... you could be different religions and it was no more important that wearing different styles or enjoying different cuisine. But here, in Salt Lake City, people actually took their beliefs seriously. In fact, everyone took their beliefs and/or non-beliefs seriously. Religion was so "in your face" that no one could be neutral. Of course, that made Salt Lake City the most perfect place in the world for this next stage in spiritual growth.

This is probably an appropriate juncture to discuss types of growth. There is growth that comes from quantitative changes and growth that comes from qualitative changes. Perhaps more simply put: there is change of attitude and there is learning more. I have found that qualitative (attitudinal) changes are abrupt, but don't lead immediately to changes in behavior. The changes in behavior come as one learns more within the new frame of reference. The Union Hagadah had given me a new perspective, now I needed information.

Salt Lake City had a small but very active Jewish community. There were compromises all over the place because it was worth sticking together just because we were so outnumbered. There was one synagogue -- Reform services Friday night, Conservative on Saturday morning, and a more-or-less orthodox minyan on Sundays, Mondays, and Thursdays. (It was called Kol Ami -- meant to be with a "chaf", meaning "All my people" but somehow got started with a "kuf", meaning "The Voice of My People"... oh well.) To further accommodate, we had a Reform rabbi and Conservative cantor. We also had two kosher kitchens and the congregation paid shipping on kosher meat ordered through the synagogue. Really very cool that it all worked together. There was some grumbling ("why should be pay their food bill"), but it honestly worked very well.

So we started going Friday nights and Saturday mornings. Also, I went to the Sunday, Monday, and Thursday minyan. Those weekday minyanim were most older business men, some retired, so they went out to breakfast afterward; I was invited along and got to know that segment of the community. Because we were going every Friday night we got to know the younger, but very reform, couples. Saturday morning we yet another, somewhat more traditional crowd. Being in that mix allowed us to learn about all sorts of different views. We started going to adult education classes, we went out with friends on Friday night, and we went to Shabbos meals at different houses. We got an education that would have been hard to find anywhere else. No doubt, for where we were holding and what we needed... this was the place.

Moving at different rates.

Since you have just seen one example and because you'll see a lot more, I wanted to emphasize that my wife, our children, our friends, and I did not progress at the same rate. While reading the last entry, my wife was pleased with the way our differences were portrayed and emphasized to me that the differences need to continue to be portrayed. That is also part of the journey.

It is very common for a married couple to move at different rates in their acceptance and embracing of new ideas and behaviors. Part of any good marriage is personal and mutual growth. I am sure that is obvious. What may be less obvious is the special challenge of religious growth -- especially in modern western civilization where everything *except* religion has value. All the more so "organized" religion. Moreover, Orthodox/Torah Judaism has a world view which is totally at odds with the prevailing culture.

So I will do my best to present how we handled those difference; both as encouragement and caution to others. Caution in that you may realize there are stumbling blocks you hadn't considered. Encouragement seeing that you are unlikely to handle things worse than I have and continue to :)

"I thought you were kidding."

This goes into the hall of fame for famous last words. This was when my wife first realized that what she thought of as my weird sense of humor might have a darker side. Here's what led up to that statement: We had just arrived in Salt Lake City and were moving into our apartment in married student housing. I was emptying out our ice chest to the refrigerator... and tossing out the cold cuts we had brought for our two day drive across Nevada and Utah from South Lake Tahoe. "What are you doing?", she asked me; a bit incredulous. "We decided to start keeping kosher when we got to Salt Lake City, remember?" "I thought you were kidding."

Ok... let me fill in a few details of how we went from that first seder to Salt Lake City. (Salt Lake City?!? UTAH??? Uh.... yes.)

After that seder I knew I was not Reform, but I didn't know what I yes was. I figured I must be Conservative. Truth be told, I had leanings in that direction anyway. The synagogue we attended for my bar mitzvah was Conservative with an Orthodox(ish) Rabbi. My brother and I were often the only ones there under 80 (or so it seemed to us) and we got a lot of very positive attention. Also, I had taken some Hebrew as an undergraduate and the teacher was the wife of the Conservative rabbi in Sacramento (about 30 minutes or so from us). Alas, there was a problem... we were close to our families. We ate dinner at my in-laws nearly every Sunday and my Dad was only a couple of hours away, so we thought it would be a bit much if we all of the sudden said we couldn't eat at their houses anymore.

That was it for a the next year or so. I was finishing my masters and decided that I wanted to do research in General Relativity, so I needed to find a new graduate school. I had been at UC Davis for about four years anyway and it was time to move on (migrant scientist, you know). There weren't too many places that did the kind of research I wanted, so the choices were limited. At the end of the day it turned out that the program best suited to us (good advisor, student housing available, support at a TA) was University of Utah in Salt Lake City, Utah. I also found out that there was a synagogue there that had a Reform rabbi and a Conservative cantor; Reform services Friday night and Conservative Saturday morning. Perfect! I suggested to my wife that we should try keeping kosher when we moved. She said that sounded fine, or "ok" or something like that.

So we packed up our one bedroom apartment and headed east to Utah. We actually spent a week or so at Lake Tahoe for a mini-vacation and to say good-bye to my dad. Then we got into our VW Rabbit and made the two day trip to our new home. We arrived to Salt Lake City in the early afternoon, found the university, checked in at the physics department, and got directions to married student housing. We were pretty exhausted when we finally got into our little one bedroom, basement apartment with cinder block walls. My wife was *not* impressed by the place, but we were only here for graduate school and we could bear it. We unpacked the car and I started emptying out our ice chest to the refrigerator... and tossing out the cold cuts we had brought for our two day drive across Nevada and Utah from South Lake Tahoe. "What are you doing?", she asked me; a bit incredulous. "We decided to start keeping kosher when we got to Salt Lake City, remember?" "I thought you were kidding."