As part of the journey of this book, I’m going through the process to become a Conservative Jew, having grown up a Reform one. It’s a process because my maternal grandmother wasn’t Jewish, and the Conservative movement doesn’t recognize patrilineal Jews. I’m uncomfortable with calling it a conversion, because I don’t doubt the Jewishness of Jews in those traditions that do recognize patrilineal Jews (Reform and Reconstructionist). I think of it more as becoming a different sort of Jew. I’m taking this step largely because the Conservative congregation in Chattanooga is larger and more lively than the Reform one (though they do many things together, and both are full of lovely people), and I want to join the more vibrant community. I’m grateful that I’m being allowed to do this in a way that doesn’t necessitate calling into question any else’s Jewishness, but only requires that I affirm my own.
Rabbi Bob, as he’s called, is my hometown rabbi, and he’s been very gracious to work with me on this, since I no longer live in Huntington and am only very tangentially part of his congregation. But I wanted to do this process in a place where I already felt connected to the community, and I feel *very* connected to Huntington’s Jewish community. (Hi, mishpachah!)
As part of this process, we have regular meetings over Zoom, and yesterday we focused on how I might keep Pesach while traveling, and while sharing an apartment with my non-Jewish family. Nothing is as complicated as I always imagined it would be, for which I’m very grateful. One of the things I’m learning is that halacha (Jewish law) is a lot more flexible than it seems from the outside. (For instance, he clued me in to the magic of glass dishes, which become kosher again every time you wash them, and I’m pretty excited about how much easier that will make preparing for Passover here in someone else’s kitchen.)
I’m excited to shop at the kosher grocery in Vienna to prepare for the holiday, and to host my Austrian family in their first seder. It’s a little overwhelming, which I’m sure is no surprise, but it also feels very joyful. There is something healing about countering the difficult history I’m learning with the celebration of Jewish culture and history that is very much at the heart of the seder.
Plus, odd though it may be, my absolute favorite “Jewish food” is a Hillel sandwich.
These conversations with Rabbi Bob are also a great counterweight to the heaviness of what I’m learning about the history of European Jews. Just before we came over, I read Dara Horn’s excellent but incredibly difficult book People Love Dead Jews, and it can be a lot to carry. One thing I’ve recently realized is that there are more memorials to dead Jews than there are live Jews here in Salzburg. I think that without these conversations with Rabbi Bob, this project could feel more like a eulogy than anything, and I don’t want it to be that. I’m grateful for the connection he provides to ongoing, and even thriving, Jewish life.
Plus, he’s funny, and that helps.
Tomorrow, we leave for Graz, where a friend has arranged for us to take an English language walking tour of that city’s Jewish history. Again, it will be a city of more memorials than living Jews (Salzburg has about 100, Graz about 80). It’s surprising to me that my small home city has so many more Jews than these large European ones. (The population of Huntington is about 46,000. In contrast, there are about 152,000 people in Salzburg, and almost 300,000 in Graz. Eighty is a vanishingly small percentage of three hundred thousand.) Looking into these places where we were, but are now not so much, would be a much darker place without this link back to the truth that we endure. And so I’m grateful.
Thank you, Rabbi Bob!
Complicated and fascinating!!