It?s late, and there is no sound at all outside. No wind. No rain. No cars. Nothing. I worked late. The kids are with grandma. I am alone. I live in a place like this, a place where few people live and where there is little to remind me, sometimes, that I am even a part of the world, or that I even exist.
Then, my stomach rumbles. I remember I haven?t eaten all day. I was so busy with kids and work and the house, that I haven?t stopped to eat. And, in this place, so far removed from Jewish life, from the world, from anything around, I get up. I wash and say a prayer. I say Motzi, and I eat a piece of toast.
All this, for a piece of toast.
Why? I stop and think. I should just shove this toast into my mouth, right? I?m hungry. Who is here to hear my prayer and to be impressed by my religious dedication?
But then I remember something one of my neighbors said once. Not a Jew; she is Mormon. There are lots of Mormons here, and even though they aren?t kosher, they have some laws about what they do and don?t eat. She was at my house with her son. I was drinking coffee. She was drinking herb tea.
Her son said, ?Why can¹t I just try some coffee? It smells so good.?
She said, ?Because you need to remember who you are.?
A profound statement.
It is this statement that comes to mind as I sit down at my seat. I am a Jew. Yes. A Jew. I am reminded that I am a Jew every time I eat. I have to use the right counter and the right dish and what has become habit, is suddenly a much more profound action here in the quiet house. It takes on a greatness and a beauty and a significance that isn?t always there in the rush of every day life.
Because I need to remember who I am.
Just recently, my friend in Florida told me about a picnic for Sephardic Jews, but the picnic wasn?t kosher. I objected. I was upset.
?How can they have such a picnic?? I asked.
?It?s cultural,? he replied, ?They don¹t want it to be religious.?
?Can you be Sephardic without being Jewish? How can you keep the culture, when you don?t know what the culture is there for??
I live in the middle of nowhere, and I couldn?t go to the picnic, even if I wanted to ? but why would I need this picnic? I pray and I live and I eat this culture. I fight for this culture every day, every minute, in every action I do. My sons wear tzitzit, tied by my own hands, tucked carefully into their pants pockets in the Sephardic way when they leave the house in the morning to join the world of Mormons outside my door, in order to remember who they are.
Will these people at the picnic remember those knots or why they are tied that way?
Will they know that when I light candles, I say the blessing before I strike the match? Will they care?
Will they know our Mincha is so much longer, that there is a shorter blessing after bread for the mothers who are so busy with work and kids and the house that they almost forgot to eat?
A mother who washes and says a prayer to the silence of an empty house?
A mother who uses the right dish?
A mother who does this on an empty stomach in the middle of nowhere, because, especially when she can?t be with other Jews, she needs to remember who she is?
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Michelle Nevada lives in a small town in rural Nevada. She can be contacted at [email protected].
Then, my stomach rumbles. I remember I haven?t eaten all day. I was so busy with kids and work and the house, that I haven?t stopped to eat. And, in this place, so far removed from Jewish life, from the world, from anything around, I get up. I wash and say a prayer. I say Motzi, and I eat a piece of toast.
All this, for a piece of toast.
Why? I stop and think. I should just shove this toast into my mouth, right? I?m hungry. Who is here to hear my prayer and to be impressed by my religious dedication?
But then I remember something one of my neighbors said once. Not a Jew; she is Mormon. There are lots of Mormons here, and even though they aren?t kosher, they have some laws about what they do and don?t eat. She was at my house with her son. I was drinking coffee. She was drinking herb tea.
Her son said, ?Why can¹t I just try some coffee? It smells so good.?
She said, ?Because you need to remember who you are.?
A profound statement.
It is this statement that comes to mind as I sit down at my seat. I am a Jew. Yes. A Jew. I am reminded that I am a Jew every time I eat. I have to use the right counter and the right dish and what has become habit, is suddenly a much more profound action here in the quiet house. It takes on a greatness and a beauty and a significance that isn?t always there in the rush of every day life.
Because I need to remember who I am.
Just recently, my friend in Florida told me about a picnic for Sephardic Jews, but the picnic wasn?t kosher. I objected. I was upset.
?How can they have such a picnic?? I asked.
?It?s cultural,? he replied, ?They don¹t want it to be religious.?
?Can you be Sephardic without being Jewish? How can you keep the culture, when you don?t know what the culture is there for??
I live in the middle of nowhere, and I couldn?t go to the picnic, even if I wanted to ? but why would I need this picnic? I pray and I live and I eat this culture. I fight for this culture every day, every minute, in every action I do. My sons wear tzitzit, tied by my own hands, tucked carefully into their pants pockets in the Sephardic way when they leave the house in the morning to join the world of Mormons outside my door, in order to remember who they are.
Will these people at the picnic remember those knots or why they are tied that way?
Will they know that when I light candles, I say the blessing before I strike the match? Will they care?
Will they know our Mincha is so much longer, that there is a shorter blessing after bread for the mothers who are so busy with work and kids and the house that they almost forgot to eat?
A mother who washes and says a prayer to the silence of an empty house?
A mother who uses the right dish?
A mother who does this on an empty stomach in the middle of nowhere, because, especially when she can?t be with other Jews, she needs to remember who she is?
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Michelle Nevada lives in a small town in rural Nevada. She can be contacted at [email protected].