Hey girl! I read the open letter written to you by that rabbi in Dallas. You know, the one where he claims you’re not really a Jewish woman? ‘Cause apparently unless you’re married (presumably to a dude of Jewish descent), raising Jewish kids, refraining from “making public what is private”… the list goes on and on, but the point is: according to him, you’re not actually a Jewish woman.
And oh yeah, since you’re being cheeky while also not meeting certain critical fertility-related requirements, and therefore are not really a Jewish woman, you MUST REFRAIN FROM co-opting, referring to, or riffing on any “traditional Jewish terminology … because to do so is a lie.”
Like, that video you made encouraging folks to get out to the ballots? “Let My People Vote”? According to the letter, cease and desist, yo! You can’t use phrases like that! They rip off the Bible. You’re not really Jewish, he claims, so you have no right to such sacrilegious wordplay! More than two million views and energizing young voters, be damned! (I mean, for real. That’s what he said. Sigh.)
Well, I understand that religious differences abound. I don’t want to be disrespectful to the Texas rabbi, only two states over from me as I sit here in Mississippi. Instead, I wanted to reach out to you, to let you know that I feel your pain. ‘Cause according to him, I’m not a Jewish woman, either. Maybe I’m really a small Irish boy who practices Jain! Who knows? I am not what I thought I was!
I’m afraid a mass identity crisis may well be on the horizon. Because I’m pretty sure a lot of us ladies who thought we were Jewish – snarky, single-past-30, social-justice-oriented – just learned that we’re outta the tribe.
I guess what I’m saying is, I’m in your tribe.
So, um, what are you doing next week? Want to go get some coffee and compare comedy bits and dating advice? We can meet up wherever it is that the tribe of Make-’Em-Laugh-and-Make-a-Difference, Oops-Always-Thought-We-Were-Being-Our-Authentic-Jewish-Selves chicks are allowed to hang out.
(Also, let’s come up with a catchier name for our tribe.)
PS Your dad’s responses to the piece were totally awesome, even if NSFW. Guess that runs in the family! He can be in our club, even if he’s not a Formerly Jewish Woman. I also liked him mentioning your rabbi-sister, who, incidentally, was a mentor of mine in college. Small world, huh?
Hurricane Katrina (and the man-made disaster of the levee breaks) struck Louisiana and Mississippi seven years ago today, with devastating effects. Now as the region prepares for Hurricane Isaac, we also remember Katrina.
In 2005, when Katrina struck, I was still living in the New Orleans area. The city and her surrounding suburbs were all affected. The Jewish community felt the wrath of the storm – particularly the Modern Orthodox synagogue, Beth Israel, which was destroyed.
At that time, I was Executive Vice President of Temple Sinai in New Orleans. As a practicing Reform Jew, I had become involved with the local Federation, but, until then, I had not thought much about how our small Orthodox congregation benefited the whole Jewish community. In the aftermath of the storm, every congregation, including mine, reached out to them to provide temporary worship space until they could figure out what to do next. I found myself thinking about the interdependence of New Orlean’s Jewish community. and wondering how the loss of Beth Israel Congregation would affect the rest of our largely Reform contingent.
After Katrina it quickly became apparent that the Jewish community would either come together and survive as a whole or fall apart in individual efforts. Nearly a quarter of local Jews permanently relocated in the months after the storm. Those who remained had to embrace pluralism in a whole new way. We needed each other to survive and thrive as a Jewish community.
Under the leadership of Rabbi Robert Loewy, Metairie Reform congregation Gates of Prayer and Beth Israel formed a historical partnership, with the Orthodox congregation meeting in the Reform synagogue for the last seven years, until this past weekend. Shared space, increased understanding and partnership between the two congregations taught the entire Jewish world the importance of community.
But why does a city need a full range of Jewish observance? If it wasn’t for the Orthodox community, there would be no community day school. Without a community day school, the Reform and Conservative congregations would never have been able to attract the current roster of Rabbis, Cantors and Educators who moved to the New Orleans area since Katrina. Congregation Beth Israel also brought the amazing Rabbi Uri Topolosky, an asset to the whole city who moved to New Orleans in 2007, and has led the congregation’s rebirth.
Of course, benefits go both ways. Without the Reform and Conservative Jews in the city purposefully patronizing the two Kosher restaurants in town, they would not be able to stay in business in order to serve the Orthodox Jews (and many Reform and Conservative Jews) who keep Kosher. And our efforts to reach out to the greater community are strengthened by our partnerships in the larger Jewish Federation.
In order to maintain a thriving Jewish community and give back to the city as a whole, we need each other; we are absolutely interdependent.
In August of 2010, I was privileged to attend the ground breaking ceremony of Congregation Beth Israel. After sharing a space amicably, Congregation Gates of Prayer sold a parcel of their land to Beth Israel to build their new synagogue and permanent home.
Last weekend, Nes Gadol Hayah Sham (a great miracle happened there)! After seven long years in the lovely wilderness of Gates of Prayer, Beth Israel joyfully paraded its five Torah scrolls out of the temporary space and into the Ark of their very own synagogue. Dignitaries from federal, state and local government, along with well-wishers from the entire community were invited to be a part of that glorious day. Yes, it was the seventh anniversary of hurricane Katrina, but much more importantly, it was the first day for Beth Israel in their own home once again.
While the congregations are now in separate buildings, they made a conscious decision to share the children’s’ play yard, so this generation and the next will never wonder quietly to themselves, “Why are the other ones important to me and the world around me?”
They will already know.
My name is Ann Zivitz Kimball, and I’m a proud Southern Jew.
Since “Southern & Jewish” is the name of this blog, and also a good description of me, I thought for my first blog post here that I’d share a little of my own story and perspective on the whole “Southern & Jewish” phenomenon.
My Southern roots are in Alabama and Louisiana (though I now live in Mississippi). Both sides of my family are from Mobile, Alabama, where my paternal grandmother was one of 9 children born to Polish/Austrian immigrants, Anne and Isadore Prince. She married my merchant grandfather. My maternal grandmother, a second-generation American born in Memphis, Tennessee, married my German immigrant grandfather who had settled in Alabama. My parents, Harrel & Betty Zivitz, married young at the Springhill Avenue Temple in Mobile, had 3 girls, and moved to Metairie, Louisiana.
I grew up in Metairie, a suburb of New Orleans. The Jewish population of the city was largely concentrated in the Uptown and Lakeview areas, because that is where the synagogues were located. In the suburbs, at that time, almost no one else was Jewish. But most of my parents’ closest friends were from Temple, and our families were often together, so I had Jewish friends. By virtue of my mother, our family was very active at Temple and I ended up involved in youth group and URJ Henry S. Jacobs Camp (my home away from home). Friday nights and Sunday mornings during the school year, my family made the “journey” to Temple Sinai in New Orleans. It was only a 20–30 minute trek, but as a kid it seemed like forever. During the week, my two younger sisters and I attended public school just like everyone else in our neighborhoods, other than the Catholic kids. On average, there were only 2 to 4 other Jewish kids in my grade.
As a Southern & Jewish kid, I grew accustomed to answering questions about Judaism, and to having friends “pray for me,” but I very rarely encountered anything that I would call anti-Semitism. The very few times I remember any incidents were pretty minor: kids repeating stuff they heard older folks saying, without any real understanding. Ignorance, but not hatred.
As far as Jewish life in New Orleans, the city has maintained (pre- and post-Katrina) a thriving small/midsized community of about 10,000 Jews. There are 4 Reform, 1 Conservative, 2 Orthodox and 2 Chabad congregations, a small community day school, a large Jewish Community Center in New Orleans proper, and now a medium sized JCC in the suburbs – since, these days, there are more Jewish families living in the suburbs than when I was growing up.
I didn’t always think of New Orleans as “thriving,” though. I attended college at Lamar University in Beaumont, Texas. I chose it for its dance program. Upon arriving at my dorm, I was greeted by a cadre of girls from small towns in Texas – and for the vast majority of them, I was the first Jewish person they had ever met!
I then realized that New Orleans, a place I had always considered a fairly small Jewish community, is a thriving Jewish metropolis when compared to truly small Southern towns. Beaumont showed me what a small Jewish community really looks like, as I attended the local synagogue and discovered Reform, Conservative and Orthodox Jews sharing a building.
My work at the ISJL truly goes hand in hand with my personal Southern & Jewish background. I “get it” when a rabbi tells me he is hoping to get a minyan for Shabbat, or a synagogue board member needs guidance on how to make a fundraiser work, or the volunteer spending hours of time promoting an event at Temple needs some extra support. We Southern Jews need to stick together, and support one another – while also maintaining the active role we’ve always played in our larger community.
That’s the Southern & Jewish way.
What do you think? Are you “Southern & Jewish”? Please feel free to share comments and stories about your own experiences. Both identities are so rich, the conversations are always intriguing!