Good for the Jews

I just ordered "Good for the Jews" by Debra Spark. It's a modernized version of the story of Esther based in Madison, Wisconsin. It was published by the University of Michigan press and the author lives in Maine.

Spark lived in Madison for two years in the 80s as one of the first two fellows in the UW-Madison Creative Writing Institute.

An article in the Wisconsin State Journal explains that Spark tries to draw parallels to the modern day Middle East.

"Spark wanted to ruminate on how the United States seemed to be going after a false enemy in Iraq, and also how Jews are often perceived as much as victims as they are aggressors in Palestine. The idea of the good and the bad guys being hidden from view, living among the rest of society, intrigued her."

I don't know if this means she's taken one side or the other of the Israeli/Palestinian conflict, or if she's standing as a passive observer.

The article also commends her realistic portrayal of Madison's "at-times oppresively liberal, politically-correct culture."

I consider myself to be liberal in most situations, but it continues to baffle me that being "pro-Palestinian" is supposedly liberal, and siding with Israel is considered right wing. I wrote this on the topic for my friend Harry's blog last year.

I can't find anything to confirm or deny that Spark herself is Jewish (granted I haven't looked that hard yet).

I'm not sure what exactly to expect. I do know there's a half-naked girl on the cover. I'll post more once I start reading.

Photo: Megillah (Scroll of Esther) in Israel Museum in Jerusalem

Rewriting history?

Not sure how I feel about this. Long story short, Tzemah Yoreh, son of Talmud scholars and assistant professor of Bible at American Jewish University in L.A., served in the Israeli army and wasn't impressed. He said the experience "destroyed my ardent Zionism" and made him an athiest.

Still committed to his Jewish upbringing, Yoreh decided to rewrite the siddur and drafted his own atheist-feminist version that eliminates God and Zionism from the mix.

I don't know I'd go as far as to call myself an atheist. I don't vehemently deny the existence of God, but I'm not really convinced either. One of my favorite things about Judaism is that its so strongly rooted in culture and tradition that a core belief in God isn't necessary to feel connected.

My boyfriend's sitting right next to me and I haven't showed him yet, but I know it'll make him cringe. He'll say changing century old traditions undermines the religion. Jeff and I feel pretty much the same way about God, but for him, Judaism is about keeping the same traditions as our ancestors and the other Jews around the world to stay connected to each other as a religion and a culture.

I understand that, but I don't completely agree with it. I think it's ok when we develop new tunes to prayers, or modify laws to keep up with the times.

I have a hard time respecting anyone's work in Judaism who doesn't support Israel, but Yoreh had kind of a cool idea. He said, “If you define [prayer] as communication between humans and a deity, I think that’s a very narrow conception. . . I think prayer is communal and private expression of hopes, fears, an appreciation of aesthetic beauty, good attributes. But that has nothing to do with God.”

I like that. I don't pray to God because it doesn't really do anything for me, but broadening the meaning of prayer might open things up a bit for people like me.

I think it'd be cool to read his siddur, but more as something to study than something to use in synagogue. In that sense I think Jeff's right. I may not believe in God, but having a God at the center of Judaism is part of the tradition and part of the culture that have defined so much of my life.

Sick days

This weekend I stayed home sick and Jeff stayed to take care of me. Luckily, we got digital cable installed on Saturday, so both us and our guinea pigs made it out of the weekend alive.

My dad's a doctor, which is something I realize I took for granted growing up. It was just so easy. Viruses never led to trips to the doctor, or, thankfully, the ER because he knew what it was, if we needed medication, and if we did, he could prescribe it.

Flu shots and other vaccinations were often given at home while watching "Friends" reruns and "Look at this weird thing on my [insert body part here]" were always met with consoling medical phrases we didn't understand but trusted anyway.

Now my dad and the rest of my family live in Tennessee and I'm still in Wisconsin. Picture mail only works in some situations, and late night phone calls make me feel really bad.

It's just Jeff and me here, both of us with severely limited biology backgrounds, trying to do the right things for ourselves and each other without spending our life savings to find out that it wasn't blood, it was marinara sauce.

It almost pains me to see how worried about me he is. I have a pretty annoying cough right now and have been lethargic all weekend. He throws around words like "bronchitis" and "pneumonia" and I assure him I get coughs like this every winter. He says he doesn't remember it ever being this bad and I gently remind him he's only known me for two and a half winters.

I know if my dad were here he'd tell me I'm fine, yes, I still have to go to school (work) tomorrow and he'd ask if I'd like to go to the movies tonight as long as I cough on the person sitting on the other side of me.

I took it for granted that my family didn't really have to worry about each other when weird things happened to our bodies, because my dad could tell us it was ok. We didn't have to schedule our days around doctors appointments just so we could get a prescription of something we have to take every twelve hours for six days so we could move on with our lives.

My dad didn't become a doctor so he could be a reference for his family (and his oldest daughter's broke college friends), but it's definitely a perk. I know he'll always be there for me, Jeff and eventually, our family (I've asked about the guinea pigs, but it turns out med school and vet school are very different), but it won't be the same as living with a doctor, and eventually he'll retire.

When I imagine what my own family will be like, I never picture it much different than how I grew up. But it's always these little things, like actually having to schedule an appointment to get medication, that remind me how much it might be.

My parents made me as crazy as the next person's when I was a kid, but never because they worried about my health. They didn't have to.

If raising my guinea pigs is any indication of my future, I could very well be that mother on a first name basis with the ER doctors. At the very least, WebMD will be my homepage.

Jeff and I have both followed very different vocational paths than our parents did, and that means that our future family isn't cookie cut for us. But maybe we'll be able to offer things to our children we never imagined during our studies--things our parents couldn't, but maybe things we'll be able to give back to them too.

I'm from Canada

We all at least know someone who's done it. Where are you from? I'm from Canada, you say, hoping this will up your chance of getting accurate directions through Europe.

You don't say it because you hate America, or even because you're ashamed of it.

You say it because the international opinion of the United States, particularly in Europe, is frighteningly low. Granted it's better now that Obama is president, but as far as I can tell, not by much.

I was just as angry and frustrated as every other young liberal when Bush was president. I would point to stretch Hummer limousines and shake my head and say, that's what's wrong with America.

I would laugh at the ignorance of people who said it's our duty as citizens to support our president in any decision he made because he's the leader of our country. I still do. I think it's scary that people believe that.

But when it comes to Israel, I have always defended it. The government, the army and the citizens, even when I don't know the details of the action or event I'm defending. When people say bad things about Israel, I get flustered and angry and scared.

How does that make me any different than the unconditional Bush supporters I can't stand?

I asked my Israeli "sister," Meital, what the young adult political climate was like in Israel awhile ago. Meital lived with my family in Milwaukee in 2004 as part of the Young Emissary Program. I wrote about her for my first article during my internship at the Chronicle. We've seen each other several times since her stay, and she remains a close part of our family.

Basically, she told me young political life in Israel is a lot like it is here. There are a lot of people like me, herself included, who question what the government does and openly criticize it when they think it's done something wrong.

This didn't surprise me, but it made me wonder what the Israeli youth thought about their Jewish American counterparts who criticize the American government but never the Israeli one.

But then she said something that did surprise me. She told me that she becomes more defensive regarding her country when she's in someone else's. She was visiting me in Madison at the time and working in Puerto Rico, where she still is.

I realized that it's the same for me, though. The worst was when I was in London in the summer of 2006. There was anti-American propaganda everywhere, and oddly enough, I never felt more pride in my country.

Maybe when you're away is when it's most obvious how much hate is actually out there.

I've only been to Israel once, but for a number of reasons--particularly the Israelis in my life-- it feels like home.

Because of this, I am constantly on guard when it comes to Israel. I have no problem scrutinizing the country's actions in the company of other people, Jewish or not, who unconditionally believe in Israel's right to exist as a Jewish country, and I have no problem admitting to these people when I don't know enough to form a valid opinion.

But just as I would never say anything bad about the United States to someone who looks down on Americans as spoiled and inferior beings, I will continue to support Israel unconditionally in the face of people who don't think the Jews have a right to a homeland.

I've never actually told anyone I was from Canada, but I know people who have, and I guess I don't blame them. When it's dark and you're lost on another continent, sometimes it's just not worth risking it.

But a lot of times it is. I'm usually more of a cynic than an idealist, but I can't help but think that if young Jews, especially Jewish liberals, stood up more for their religion and their country, it wouldn't hurt.

A note on the Wisconsin Jewish Chronicle

The editor at the Wisconsin Jewish Chronicle, based out of Milwaukee, has kindly agreed to link to my blog from the Chronicle site.

I was an intern at the Chronicle 2004-2005, when I was a senior in high school. I have continued to freelance for the paper throughout college and during my first year as a professional.

I look forward to sharing my blog with Chronicle readers and reading their input and opinions.

I'm Kind of Kosher

I'm a vegetarian. To some, that would mean, by default, I keep kosher. I don't mix milk and meat because I've completely eliminated the latter from my diet.

Others, however, would say I don't. My boyfriend eats meat off of the same plates I eat dairy. I eat at restaurants and friends' houses.

I drink non-kosher wine (although I'm one of the few people who can't get enough of Manischewitz) and don't reduce my grocery shopping only to foods with kosher symbols.

So, am I kosher or not? As far as I can tell, the answer to that question is up to the discretion of the individual. My boyfriend's family keep dishes separate at home, but eat out at restaurants. He'll even have a cheeseburger, as long as it's not in his parents' house.

I've known people who consider themselves kosher simply because they don't eat pork.

But the thing is, whenever people ask me if I keep kosher, I don't know what to say. I became a vegetarian 18 years ago, when I was 5 years old. It was because the idea of eating an animal, once I figured out that's what meat was, grossed me out. It had nothing to do with my religion. I never even heard the word "kosher" until I was a few years into my vegetarianism.

When people ask me if I keep kosher, "kind of" is usually what comes out. That question and that answer, I think, are the best depictions of the phase I'm at in my life right now, which this blog will try to capture.

I'm 23-years-old. I graduated with a degree in journalism and Spanish from the University of Wisconsin-Madison last May. I'm about seven months into my first full time job.

I moved in with my boyfriend, Jeff, of two years when we graduated (we're now going on three). He came from a conservative Jewish family in Grand Rapids, Michigan, whereas I grew up reform in Milwaukee.

With our college years in the recent past and a verbal commitment to one day get married and have a family, we've begun to weigh the similarities and differences of our Jewish upbringings against the Jewish family life we intend to form for ourselves and our children.

We're at that awkward interlude where we're not as much a part of our family's Jewish traditions as we once were, but we haven't been away long enough to form Jewish identities of our own.

But that, I think, is the beauty of Judaism. The freedom to define it for yourself.

I would never say I'm kind of Jewish. I'm Jewish to the full extent, my extent, though my beliefs and customs may vary greatly from another Jew's, whose traditions may vary from someone else's.

But I'm kind of kosher, depending on whether you define it by intent, practice or law. I don't know how I define it. Maybe, during these transition years I'll figure it out. But maybe not, and that's ok too.

Photo: Jeff and me at graduation