Fiddler on the Roof

My family and I got a little taste of Broadway when we went to see Fiddler on the Roof the other night (Thanks Jay and Stacia! Thanks Vicki!). The show was, well, traditional. The same familiar scenes with the same familiar tunes and the same colorful characters. And it is this sense of familiarity that makes this play one of my favorite.

The story is timeless, and so is the conflict. Many of us struggle to make decisions as we swing between our traditions and our modern day lives. Especially decisions that tie to raising our kids. As a Jewish woman, I acknowledge that most of the issues still exist many decades after Shalom Aleichem thought up the stories on which the plot is based. I don't infer that all Jews are the same or that we all think alike. Not at all. I argue that we share history, and we practice certain rituals which, needless to say, bind us as a group, as a people. Our level of commitment to religious practices differ greatly, and in most cases, the choices we make with regards to practicing Judaism do not have great impact on our lives otherwise.

I love our tradition and take pride in being a Jew. I love to share Jewish stories with my daughter, and I'm honored to celebrate Jewish holidays with family members and dear friends. Year after year, holiday after holiday. The brisket, the tzimes, the chopped liver, the matzo, and of course, the matzo ball soup. I enjoy welcoming the Shabbat (Sabbath) watching Mia lights the candles as she whispers the blessing. I love the smell of Chala (Jewish bread) as it is baking in the oven every Friday night. I love to hear the blessing for the wine echoed by "Le' Chaim!" ("To life"). My heart melts when I catch Mia citing a new prayer she learned during Sunday school.

Those who know me know that though I celebrate the holidays and most Sabbaths, I'm not an observant Jew. I eat non- kosher food, I drive on Sabbath, and I definitely don't perform enough Mitzvot (good deeds). I'm married to a non-Jew, and I participate in Christmas celebrations. But nothing and no one can take my Jewishness from me. Like many Jews, I often find myself shlepping, kvetching, and or going to Shul. I prefer the orthodox Shul (synagogue) for many reasons, but mostly, I prefer it because of tradition.

The other day, during a holiday celebration in shul, men were reading from the Torah. Women were not. By Jewish laws, they are not permitted to do so. A (female) friend of mine and I were joking that we should protest that, but frankly, I like the ritual just the way it is. I don't feel offended when men are the only ones reading from the Torah, and I respect that for thousands of years, this seem to have been the practice. It's a Jewish tradition, and I view it as such. I don't feel that it's unfair, oppressive, archaic or harsh. For me, it is simply a tradition.

I'm glad that as a Jewish woman today, I have a choice to accept things the way they are, to practice as an orthodox, a conservative, or a reform, or not to practice at all. I have a choice. In Fiddler on the Roof, Tevya was a pioneer as he had to make choices. He could insist on obeying religious laws, and by doing so, denying his daughters' happiness, but he didn't. He negotiated a path between his daughters' non-traditional demands and tradition. Like Tevya, I feel that I manage to successfully navigate between my modern life and tradition. Tradition which I cherish and love.

Le Chaim!

Snow Flakes

Snow flakes.

For the first time since we settled in the last frontier, I've been waiting for them! Of course, we have snow throughout most of the year, but I wasn't sure that I'll be alive long enough to enjoy their return. It's not very Alaskan to appreciate the returning snow, but for me, it is easy to rejoice in the redundancy of the seasons. Since diagnosis, I have been through spring, survived the summer, and I am here, welcoming the fall. I'll welcome the snow flakes as I did the drop in temperature. I'll welcome them with warmth. I find myself anxiously peeking through the window every morning, but so far, I've only spotted frost. This year, if and when I get to feel the weightless, gentle caresses of the white, fluffy flakes, I will rejoice!