When the Ultraorthodox Community is the "Wrong Side of Town"

I am a Conservative Jew.  I am still trying to define exactly what that means for me; but I am learning that it can mean a number of things and that there are no two ways of being a Conservative Jew that are exactly the same.  What I do know with certainty is that I am not a Reform Jew or an Orthodox Jew  and certainly not an Ultraorthodox Jew.  I had an interesting experience recently while in Israel on the northern end of Jerusalem which put me worlds apart from the ultraorthodox.   

I had decided to take a bus to the Dead Sea and on the way back I realized that the bus stop I was supposed to get off at had already passed.  I was in the middle of a Hassidic or other ultraorthodox community and knew that I was in the "wrong part of town."   The bus driver did not want to let me off at the next stop.  He was worried that I had too far of a walk to the other side of the street and that it would be unsafe for me to do so.  I was so taken with both his concern for me and the fact that he needed to be.  Clearly, in my shorts and tank top, this was not a neighborhood I should be in.

I quickly put on my sweater and got off at the following stop which had an easy cross walk to the other side of the street.  The bus driver gave me clear instructions so that I would not have to ask anyone for instructions.  While I was waiting for the bus, I was fascinated with what I was watching.  It was 9:30 in the evening and all the shops were packed with people and entire families were fully dressed in black and on the move on this very hot day.  I watched people carefully to see if anyone would look me in the eye because certainly I had heard stories of how the very religious Jews look down on anyone who is less religious.  I smiled at a few people to see what their reactions would be.  I did get a few slight smiles back, and a few glances, but it was almost as if I was invisible. 

What was most interesting to me was how I felt while waiting at that bus stop.  The days before I had been in southern Tel Aviv and had been in neighborhoods with African immigrants - both Ethiopian Jews and non Jewish immigrants.  I am a typical white girl that grew up in white suburbia and even though I now live in the city I will admit that, right or wrong,  I am still a little nervous when I am in a neighborhood that is clearly very different than my own.  The uneasiness I felt while walking through the neighborhoods of south Tel Aviv was nothing like the uneasiness I felt while waiting at that bus stop! 

It wasn't that I was insecure of my religious knowledge and upbringing as I had previously felt around people more religious of me - I think I am beyond that insecurity now.  I was uncomfortable because I knew how their sector of our religion looks down on my religious sector and what they think of Conservative Judaism and Conservative Jews.   I thought of how this inability of one faction of Judaism to accept another makes us all a much smaller minority than we need to be.  All of a sudden, I was both intrigued by that concept as well as disappointed by that concept.  As I sat on the bus and looked at the people going and coming, I knew that I was no different then any of them in the eyes of a just G-d.  I am an individual who uses the reasoning and intelligence that G-d has given me to make choices of my own.  Choices in my life as the affect me personally, as they affect my children and as they affect my relationships with others.  Choices in both the observance and practice of my religion - OUR religion. 

Today, I read an online article about a book written by Leah Vincent who was chastised by her family when she made a choice to communicate with a boy while in a religious high school.  Her story reminded me of other current cultures in the Middle East where she, as a woman in the Yeshivish community was not allowed to consider her own choices let alone make them.  When she decided to pursue choices as a woman within the confines of her religion she was cast aside by her family and rejected by her religion.

Being a Conservative Jew means having the freedom to make choices and I think (and hope) also means being able to define what the Conservative sector will be for me.  With the changing face of Israel, I can only hope that the other factions of our religion will come to accept that as well and enable the Jews of the world to band together and be less of a minority in Israel and the diaspora.

Deciding if I Believe

Do I believe in G-d? It sounds like such a simple question - either someone does or they don't - but many are pulled in opposite directions when that basic question is presented.  I have a friend who is very ill.  Despite all treatments he continues to worsen and is now considered terminal.  Despite my own uncertainty of faith, I knew I needed to visit the Kotel when I was in Israel last month on his behalf.

I had two pieces of paper on me to write notes to put into the cracks of the Kotel.  When I was there for the first time a year and a half ago, I was extremely emotional because my mother and grandmother had just passed away; but I knew that I wanted to leave messages of love for them and the others who had passed away.  I guess I felt that The Wall was a conduit to my loved ones who were deceased.  I am not sure what others leave in their notes, but I felt rather silly leaving messages for "my people" although it was important to me that I did.

On the day I ended up at the Kotel, I had only two scraps of paper that I could use.  I had planned on leaving one note expressing my love for "my people" and the other for a prayer for my friend.  One had printing on the back from the page I tore it from and the other was clean and unmarked.  I found myself torn on which message should be written on the unmarked paper and which I should use the marked paper for.  I found myself asking which message should be most pure, most direct and essentially, was most important.  I truly considered which piece of paper would have the best chance of sending its message to where it had to go.

After considerable contemplation, I wrote my two notes on the two scrapes of paper I was holding and I carefully put both pieces of paper into a crack in The Wall.  In fact, I made sure that each piece of paper was firmly seated in its space before I walked away.

I used the unmarked paper for the prayer for my friend.  I guess, when it really comes down to it, I do truly believe in G-d, believe in the possibility of G-d or at least I want to believe in G-d. 

But I did give a kiss to the other paper before tucking it in.