Growing up Latina there wasn't much choice: you were Catholic. In my neighborhood, it was as fundamentally natural as knowing that you weren't going to reach the top of any corporate "food chain." The best you could hope for was to graduate from high school: a real achievement for those of us from the projects of San Antonio, TX. I checked that block...my sister never did. She chose to (or maybe not) marry early in life: a mere teen still.
We were both raised to believe that Jesus was god and that his mother, Mary, was as miraculously powerful as Jesus god. Mary is quite a celebrity, especially among Catholic, Latina females. You see, she commands quite the "paparazzi" what with her numerous public appearances in tiny, obscure villages scattered throughout Central and South American countries. I'm no theologian, of course, but I must admit that I have never heard of "Our Lady of Dublin, Ireland" or "Our Lady of Detroit, Michigan." You see...where ever she tours, she receives a new title: a "key to the city," if you will.
The latest and greatest news from the Catholic world is that Catholics "honor" Mary and the saints: they don't "pray" to them. I'm here to tell you, we were taught not only to pray to Mary and the saints for miracules, but to sacrifice to them. I learned then, and people around the world to this day, pay money, go on lengthy food fasts, as well as walk, run and crawl on bloody knees for very long distances in order that they might "seal the deal" for a miracle or two. Often times, the sacrifice itself is to the detriment of the health or well-being of the petitioner. The Jesus god was never part of the deal. I didn't understand then and still don't "get it" to this day. But I played along. That's just what you did as a Catholic. No questions asked: just follow the leader.
Sunday, May 27, 2007
Tuesday, May 22, 2007
Berishit: My Jewish Journey Begins
Tonight is May 22, 2007: Shavuot. A fitting beginning to launch the story of my Jewish journey. Unlike many other stories, this one starts not at the beginning, but somewhere in between. You'll know later why this is the way it must be...You wouldn't otherwise believe me.
Sitting in my tiny office, at work, in front of the Catholic priest. Head in hands, eyes to the floor. Tears endlessly pooling up and pouring down on the tiles like tiny raindrops. The priest motionless. Mute. How does a Catholic priest answer the question, "Where is my loved one now?" How, indeed, after hearing about the sudden death of someone who lived a life "outside the lines." Outside of the traditional, New Testament standards.
"Where, Father? Where," I cried. "I need to know!" Still...no answer. His eyes welled up with tears as well. A look on his face as if to say, "I have but one answer, yet cannot speak it." We both sat crying together for a seemingly endless amount of time. No words would quell my pain. My heart exploding; my body ceaselessly aching; the tears - endless.
Where would I find the answer that would anesthetize the pain? How could I know for sure that my sister's demise was not a result of my failing? Where was the magical man who walked on water now? Where was the man who could raise the dead? No footprints in the sand. No miraculous, weeping virgins. Nothing. No one. I was alone...so alone.
Sitting in my tiny office, at work, in front of the Catholic priest. Head in hands, eyes to the floor. Tears endlessly pooling up and pouring down on the tiles like tiny raindrops. The priest motionless. Mute. How does a Catholic priest answer the question, "Where is my loved one now?" How, indeed, after hearing about the sudden death of someone who lived a life "outside the lines." Outside of the traditional, New Testament standards.
"Where, Father? Where," I cried. "I need to know!" Still...no answer. His eyes welled up with tears as well. A look on his face as if to say, "I have but one answer, yet cannot speak it." We both sat crying together for a seemingly endless amount of time. No words would quell my pain. My heart exploding; my body ceaselessly aching; the tears - endless.
Where would I find the answer that would anesthetize the pain? How could I know for sure that my sister's demise was not a result of my failing? Where was the magical man who walked on water now? Where was the man who could raise the dead? No footprints in the sand. No miraculous, weeping virgins. Nothing. No one. I was alone...so alone.
Sunday, May 20, 2007
God: Going Beyond Our Human Limitations
A great starting point to begin the thinking process about God and about our limited thinking about God: http://www.tikkun.org/rabbi_lerner/god.
Saturday, May 19, 2007
What Can You Expect From This Writing Experience?
- A Historical Look At The Jewish Experience Over Time
- The Multiple Reinventions of Judaism: "Cookie Cutter Failures"
- Jews As Numerous As the Stars? Is It Time Yet To Begin To Mobilize Toward This End?
- The Ethnic Dilemma
- The "Ten Sefirot," "Eminations From God," and Torah Ties: What Does It Mean To Me?
- Do I Only "Do," Or Do I "Do And Understand?"
- Optimal Love
- Optimal Parenting
- Optimal Leadership
- How To Become "Hebrew Smart" In 90 Days or Less
- Unlocking The Mystery To "Quick Searches" In The Torah Scroll
- True Accountability Of Synagogue Leadership
- Why Parents Make The Best Rabbi's
- Interfaith Childrearing: Or, How To Lay A Foundation For Chaos In The Home
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