I wasn’t born a Jew.
Well… maybe that’s not really accurate. The more I learned about Judaism, the more it felt like getting to know myself, so maybe I was always Jewish deep down. Judaism had never occurred to me as an option. I was raised Lutheran, but had never connected with it, and I had explored other practices like Wicca and Buddhism trying to find something that brought the peace and guidance I think I was really looking for. It wasn’t until I took a Jewish Children’s Literature class, which necessitated a basic understanding of Jewish beliefs, that I really started to wonder if this was a good fit. I liked the idea of Tikkun Olam, and Yom Kippur sounded like a really meaningful holiday. Eventually I decided to talk to a Rabbi, and I told myself I would keep practicing Judaism until I didn’t like it anymore. But the longer I’m here, the more I like it, so… here we are.
Regardless, I didn’t have a Jewish family around growing up, aside from Rabbi Scott z”l, a family friend, and much of my Jewish education has been in formal settings like a Jewish Children’s Literature at Eastern Michigan, a couple Judaism 101 classes, and a Beginner’s Hebrew Class. I’ve read A LOT of books about the history and various practice ways, but I focused a lot on the mystical, the yummy (food!) and the folk. I found my corner of Jewish study very quickly, but it took much, much longer to feel like part of the Jewish community.
Rabbi Robert Scott
SCOTT, Rabbi Robert. Beloved husband of the late Ardis K. Scott, cherished father of Jeffrey Paul Scott, David Simon Scott and Stephanie Tara Scott (Jeremy Wilson). Also survived by his loving dog Motek. Dear brother of Philip (Marsha) Scott.
Being a convert can feel very insecure. Is it weird to tell you I’m a convert in conversation? Should I keep it to myself, tell you when it’s comfortable, tell you up front? Does it even matter to you? Will it change how you talk to me if you know? Do I know enough to be here? Am I doing something inadvertently to out myself as a convert?
Perhaps complicating things somewhat was that I converted in a Reform setting. If you’ve never participated in Reform practices, it is highly individualized. I think of Judaism like a spectrum. The most Orthodox, like the Chasidim, I explain like this: They follow ALL the commandments to the T, because God gave those commandments, and as you follow them you find meaning in them. You do and you understand, right? Reform attitude goes in the other direction — you practice the mitzvahs and rituals that make you (the individual) feel Jewish. I explain to folks who ask that Reconstructionist Judaism sits somewhere in the middle. There’s absolutely nothing wrong with either end of the spectrum, but I am a person who likes structure and tradition and community, and Reform spaces just felt too loose for me, and left me feeling untethered and a little lonely. It was hard to find Reform spaces where my penchant and desire for intellectual study, critical analysis or mystical experiences necessarily fit the culture. I love the folkways, the women’s practices, the hidden histories of Judaism. The “hot takes” as the kids say. They weren’t necessarily frowned on in Reform, but I was hard pressed to find anybody who had read The Hebrew Priestess or was super interested in the Witch of Endor, or Judaism’s attitude towards folk magic practices, much less wanted to talk about them or incorporate aspects into their personal practices. While the Rabbi of my home temple in Ohio is very progressive and we can discuss these topics, the larger culture of the Temple wasn’t quite there, which is something I learned I wanted after a few years into my Jewish practice.
My experience with Reconstructionist Judaism, however, has been the perfect mix of tradition and innovation. It was a Jewish friend from a Reconstructionist congregation who introduced me to the idea of Eco Kashrut, an altered form of Kashrut that values caring for the planet and its creatures or separating ourselves from other cultures, a view which I have slowly introduced to my family over the last few years. Every time I prepare a meal, I know that I have excluded meat and included as much local and homegrown produce as I could because I intentionally chose to. In fact, I knew AARC was the right place for me when my very first time working 4th Friday, the idea of vegetarian diet being the ideal in the Torah came up. It was reinforced recently when Rav Gav showed me her song list and it had several niggunim and chants from Rabbi Shefa Gold.
Reconstructionist Judaism’s idea that Judaism is an evolving civilization, not just a tradition, was one of the biggest draws I had to this community. I mean yes, you pay me to be here, but that doesn’t mean I don’t connect with or participate in services to the extent I can while I’m there. Now that I know AARC is here and what they’re about, it’s likely I would have two congregations I was part of. I would come join in even if you weren’t paying me to do so. I am proud that the Reconstruction Movement created teachers like Rabbi Sandra Lawson, who is queer and black. I’m proud that this movement celebrates its black, brown, female and queer members, not just accepts them. I firmly believe that this culture, which I have found to be full of joy and pride and commitment from those involved, is informed by RJ’s core values:
- Learning from the vast storehouse of Jewish wisdom and practice while understanding that the past has a vote, not a veto;
- Openness to insights from contemporary society, especially democratic practice and commitments to advancing equity;
- Thinking, dreaming and making decisions in conversation with community—the community gathered around us today, the voices of our ancestors, and, as best as we can anticipate, the needs and aspirations of the communities of tomorrow;
- Feeling empowered to reconstruct and co-create rituals, practices, texts and more in order to build the Jewish community we want to live in
I love the Reconstructionist space you (we) have made AARC. I am proud to be part of a community that celebrates its diversity, not just accepts it. Where are times I felt like my Reform practice was disconnected from the community. In the Reconstructionist space I feel not only connected to my spiritual ancestors, but to those people present with me, and those who have not yet joined us. Not to be dramatic, but it feels a bit like the Jewish folks sealing the covenant with G-d at Sinai. By innovating Judaism and continuing to connect it to our constantly changing and modernizing lives, we keep it alive for future generations to find peace and comfort in, and continue to build on thousands of years of memory and learning and community. Thank you, thank you, thanks for inviting me in.
