Shabbat Shalom everyone!  

A few weeks ago, when Sandy Forte-Nickenig delivered her message for Shabbat services, I identified with much of what she said.  Especially when she spoke about her mother, who was not a religious Jew but someone who basically divided the world into two groups: 

Jews….. and the enemy…

My own mom was a lot like that. She disavowed all things “religious”….considering them superfluous to her Jewish identity…she actually spoke proudly of the day she introduced my previously Kosher father… to bacon….and shrimp….and clams! 

She always referred to herself as a “cardiac Jew”….. a Jew mostly in her heart.  

One perfect example?  When I was a teenager I asked her why she didn’t want to attend High Holiday Services….with a smile she said, “I really think G-d can see me much better on the golf course!”  

Although both were Jewish, my parents’ backgrounds were distinctly different. 

My father was raised in an orthodox Jewish home by parents who immigrated from the Polish/Russian border region just before WWI. 

My mom’s family was less religious, and more secular. Her dad was second generation American, born in the States to Hungarian parents; while her mom came here as a child from Austria and often spoke Yiddish.

But the woman who would have been my Grandma Rose passed away when my mom was just a teenager….…and in losing her mother, my mom lost her own Jewish role model, at a very early age.  

Growing up, neither of my parents used Yiddish…. which I now sadly regret. It’s a generational connection I believe I would have cherished later in my life. 

I was born and raised in Oceanside, Long Island, the third and youngest daughter of Doris & Emanuel (better known as “Manny”) Roth. 

It was an idyllic 1950’s and ‘60s suburban existence. And since most of our neighbors were Jewish, being Jewish then and there seemed very normal. 

For example, all the public schools in Oceanside closed down for the Jewish High Holidays. We had at least 3 synagogues, covering the gamut from Orthodox and Conservative to Reform.

Now as I look back, I realize I took my Jewishness for granted for a very long time.

Our family belonged to Avo-dah, or A-voh-da, as we called it.. the reform temple we attended on the High Holidays and other rare, random occasions. 

I have 2 strong memories of Temple:

Memory One: the seemingly endless (and boring!) services, during which our Rabbi, (so very unlike Rabbi Roz) seemed to drone on and on…..so easy to tune out. 

And Memory 2: my father’s beautiful tenor voice, singing all the familiar prayers…. impossible to tune out.  Even today hearing those same melodies often moves me to tears. 

The services were mostly in English, so they could have been meaningful to me, but somehow they just weren’t.  Nothing struck me as particularly important, except one thing. 

After the Sh’ma, our congregation recited, always in English, the prayer I later learned was V’Ahavta.

For some reason, repeating those words, containing the idea of keeping G-D’s commandments “on my gates and door posts,” resonated for me. I’m sure we had mezzuzot on the door frames of our house, but I never really paid attention to them. 

I never connected them to the prayer or the history of the Jewish people receiving the Ten Commandments, and our responsibility as Jews to bring those commandments literally into our homes and our lives.

My two sisters and I were expected to attend Sunday school regularly; though Joy, the eldest, quit relatively early, finding the classes “boring,” my middle sister, Lynne, was intent on becoming a Bat Mitzvah.  

However my father, like many in those days, was “old school;” he believed that Bar Mitzvah was just for boys. Lynne demonstrated her commitment by being the only one of us to reach confirmation. Our Dad was quite proud of her for that!  Both of my sisters married Jewish men and became b’nai mitzvah as adults later in their lives.

As for me, by the time I reached 2nd grade, my mother was so fed up with my weekly “Sunday morning stomach aches” she allowed me to “drop out” of Sunday school for good. 

My best friend from elementary age through high school was not Jewish, although her father was. We were as close as sisters. She spent many Jewish holiday dinners at our house.  

At her house, I loved celebrating the non-Jewish holidays; experiencing Christmas traditions and learning a little bit about how other religions saw the world.  

On the day John F. Kennedy was assassinated, we were released from school early and Suzanne and I walked home together by way of my temple and her church, each of us feeling the sadness, but also the comfort of faith on that terrible day.  

The two of us remain the closest of friends even now, more than 50 years later…..

When I arrived at the University of Massachusetts in 1969, I joined the same “Jewish sorority” both my older sisters had belonged to. I was expected to date boys from the Jewish fraternity, but in those days of campus rebellion in every aspect of life (this was the late sixties)…. I went a different way. 

As a freshman speech and theater major, I spent more time with the theater clique and was drawn to people who seemed to have more interesting and exciting backgrounds than mine….and in most cases, they were not Jewish.

I also remember having my first personal experience with anti-Semitism at UMass as the friends of some boys I dated made disparaging remarks about me.  I remember feeling marginalized for perhaps the first time in my life. 

By sophomore year, one other experience changed me.

I fell in love, so deeply that even then, at only 19, I recognized my great fortune in finding a “soul mate,” my perfect match.  

Allan and I had been friends in high school, but “connected” during the summer between our freshman and sophomore years of college.  Even though our schools were 3 and a half hours apart, we were emotionally inseparable, exchanging letters and/or phone calls almost daily. 

Soon, my “overprotective” mother began to think of him as my “Svengali;” too much influence and not enough deference to established “norms.”  She believed we were too young to know true love.  He was also far more observantly religious than our family had been. My mom actually branded him as “too Jewish.” In hindsight, knowing what I’ve learned about my mother, I realize that strict adherence to religious observance was something she resisted, and almost resented, in her own marriage.

I’ll skip the other details of my parents’ disapproval and just say, they managed to force us apart after a year and a half of increasingly tense restrictions….. breaking both of our hearts….. and at the same time, creating a more rebellious me than ever.

I reacted to my parents interference in my life as many college-age kids did: by rejecting family expectations and openly daring to be different. 

For the remainder of my college years and leading up to my first marriage, I never dated another Jewish man. 

 I married a man ten years older than me, who wasn’t rebellious, or spiritually connected to any religion, although he was raised in a strict, Southern Baptist home.

All these years later, with increased understanding, I have come to realize that a big part of the attraction for me was his 12 year old daughter, Melissa, with whom I had become increasingly close while we were dating.  She was a “junior bridesmaid” in our wedding and her generous spirit gave me a chance to be an immediate Mom, a role I had looked forward to all my life. Our bond remains strong to this day, though her Dad and I divorced almost 20 years ago.

In true “Doris fashion,” my mother dissuaded me from my desire to have a rabbi officiate at least in part at my wedding, insisting that a justice of the peace perform the rite, so as not to “offend” my ex-husband’s family. 

As I composed this story, it became apparent to me that my mother really was a fountain of mixed messaging throughout my life!  She insisted we claim ourselves to be Jewish but managed to frequently convey her dissatisfaction with any connection to our religion.  I am left with an overwhelming sense of regret at her own lack of Jewish religious education and awareness. These days, it seems apparent that my Jewish values were transmitted to me, in large part, through my father and his family.  

When I was seven months pregnant my ex-husband and I relocated from New Jersey to Grand Blanc, Michigan, where my daughter Jessica was born. 

Tom, my ex, who worked for Six Flags, was asked to oversee a project in nearby Flint. With a new baby, no friends in a new city, and my then-husband busy with his new job, it was a difficult time for me. Grand Blanc was my first living experience outside of the East Coast, away from family, and the drastic difference in the number of Jews and influence of the Jewish community, was unsettling to me. As a result, I was drawn to what felt like normalcy….. and began joining Jewish women’s organizations like ORT and working with Hadassah groups on gift-wrapping fund raisers at the holidays. I insisted on joining a temple and my husband, who thought he had married a “cardiac Jew” (like my mother!) began questioning my sudden change of heart.

I remember telling him that he had literally moved me away from my family and all that was familiar to me. I tried to help him realize that as a young mother, finding Jewish friends was one thing that might make me feel more at home. I’m not sure I ever flat out told him that it was Jessica’s arrival that cemented my desire to reconnect with my Jewish roots…. and…. give them more room to grow. 

When Jessica was two years old, Six Flags moved us again, this time to Arlington, Texas. That move proved to be life-altering to my Jewish story. We chose our home close to the highway that led to the Jewish Community Center in Fort Worth, where I arranged for Jessica to attend pre-school. 

My mother-in-law, who lived close by and whose Baptist religion her own son had rejected, then proved herself to be the most Christian woman I have ever known. I feared she would oppose my plan to raise Jessica in the Jewish tradition… but instead she showed her strength and character by thanking me for committing to raise her granddaughter with faith in G-d… She knew little about Judaism except for reading the “Old Testament,” but religion was important to her, and her approval encouraged me to continue on my own Jewish path.

The one and only synagogue in Arlington was called a reform congregation, but as the only game in town it really was home to a broad range of observant Jews. I immediately joined the choir and realized almost as quickly how much I had been missing.

I was now learning the songs and beautiful prayers that my father had sung…that were such a part of him, and were now, finally becoming a part of my life.

When our Rabbi, Keith Stern, offered a six-week “class” for interfaith couples, I convinced Tom we should attend. We all laughed when the Rabbi told us he wasn’t going to try to convince any of the non-Jewish spouses to convert, he did have one request: “Bring me your children.”  

At the time, only 2 of the 7 couples had kids. When the six weeks ended, we all agreed we wanted to spend more time together sharing our experiences. We became Congregation Beth Shalom’s first Chavurah, celebrating holidays, births and life cycle events together for years.

It provided the extended family I craved and was badly missing, lasting until my family moved back to New Jersey in 1994.  

Recently I had an opportunity to see Rabbi Stern, and thanked him personally for being the impetus to my Jewish re-awakening.

In New Jersey, my re-invigorated commitment to our Jewish lives revolved mainly around Jessica’s bat mitzvah preparations and her subsequent confirmation. At the bat mitzvah celebration, my parents, especially my mother of course, expressed candidly how surprised they were that my life, and both Jessica’s and my efforts, had brought us to this happy place! 

It was, I think, a pleasant surprise to them that the little girl who couldn’t stand going to Sunday School had grown up to become the proud mother of a Bat Mitzvah…. And for me, it actually felt like a shared accomplishment.

Despite that happy feeling, our connection to the Jewish community in West Windsor was minimal. I was feeling alone in a new and different way as it became clear to me that my marriage was not going to survive. 

Although I had rarely felt conflicted over our religious differences, among other things, my ex-husband and I had views on spirituality and faith that were increasingly far apart. I knew that once Jessica left for college, it would be impossible for me to remain in our marriage and be happy.  

As my ex and I began to separate and plan to divorce, I accidentally (some might say fatefully!) saw an opportunity to reconnect with Allan via Classmates.com. 

Somehow his life had led him to virtually the same spot…and our ability to pick up right where we left off, nearly 28 years earlier, was almost scary. And now we’ve been together for 18 years.

And so when my marriage ended, spiritually speaking, my new journey began. 

When we first stood side by side for High Holiday services in Allan’s Los Angeles synagogue, he leaned over and whispered how he had imagined us standing together many times over the years we had been apart. When we “eloped” in Las Vegas, and he wrapped us together in his father’s Tallis, it felt like I had come home.  

It’s become so clear to me, and to Allan, that G-d’s plan for my life was exactly that: a plan to lead me, with gratitude, back to my Jewish self. 

Over time, I began to enjoy attending services and learning more about Jewish traditions and observances from Rabbi Sally in LA, from Allan, and now from Rabbi Roz, Cantor Jen and the OST community that I love and am so grateful for.   

And once again I’m hearing my father’s voice.

It’s the voice I hear singing the Sh’ma and it’s the voice I hear (along with G-d’s, I’m sure) pushing me to be compassionate, fair and generous… all Jewish values that he instilled in me, and that he would be so proud to see me passing down to his great-grandchildren…….. L’dor V’dor….

Our family and friends knew my father as a mensch for his righteousness and respect for others. I remember his total unwillingness to speak ill of others; his honesty and integrity, almost to a fault, in dealing with family and business matters. 

And my mother, who despite any faults, with a strong Jewish sense of humor, always wanted me to stand up and be true to myself…. she feared her third daughter and baby girl could be taken advantage of, and was overprotective for what she believed was my own good.

A Jew in her heart, I know she would be happy for what my life is right now.

 My Jewish journey has brought me back to so much; appreciation to G-d for my very lucky life, for Allan, for Jessica and her family, for Melissa and for Jenny and for the memory of my dad, Manny, telling his drama major daughter  “we’re not casting today, Carol.”

I was born Jewish….but at this point of my life, I feel that I am choosing to live a Jewish life…… with joy, and G-d, in my heart.

Shabbat Shalom!