In childhood, the thought that God was in everything, in every rock, leaf, plant and person filled me with wonder. I think I learned of this idea from my mother; I remember her explaining the word "pantheism" and telling me stories of Greek myths. Although mt parents were both non-observant Jews, my mother a self-described "culinary Jew", we were members of a conservative Los Angeles synagogue. I attended weekly Sunday school classes through high school confirmation but never aspired to a Bat Mitzvah. Only one of my female peers learned to read Hebrew and had a Bat Mitzvah. This rite of passage was not encouraged for girls and being one of two girls in the small dark classroom with all the rowdy little boys did not appeal to me.
I remember many Jewish social occasions, especially after our congregation "B'nai Israel" moved to a beautiful and new synagogue. I remember class discussions, B'nai B'rit Girls activities, Bar Mitzvahs and interminably long High Holiday services held in a large local theater. I don't remember anything like a spiritual experience there, but in retrospect what I realize is that I absorbed the music of the prayers. Years later when I returned to Judaism as an adult, so much of the music was not only familiar, but a deep part of me.
After graduating high school and being "confirmed" (where does that concept come from?), I basically left Judaism for the next 10 or 15 years. I had quite enough of the type of socializing that took place at shul and was on my way to college, travel, work and a life that had no overt Jewish connection. I married a non-Jew, moved to Berkeley and somewhere in those years actually did have spiritual experiences.
For many who came of age in the sixties, sex, drugs and rock n' roll were as highly regarded as religion. New ideas of sexual liberation, especially for women, were an exciting part of my life in my twenties. I enjoyed exploring the idea that one could love and have sex with more than one person, even if the result was to teach me the value of sexual monogamy. My earliest experience with drugs were clearly spiritual experiences. They brought me back to my pantheistic roots as I watched the light on a mountain stream or watched psychedelic rainbows on my bedroom ceiling. I began to enjoy nature in a deeper way than I had as a city girl. This joy in nature continued to develop when I moved to Mendocino in 1977.
Although I was on the fringes of the "back to the earth" movement and always lived with electricity and running water, I did participate in some of the "hippie" rituals of the period. I sat in many all night peyote circles, singing songs in Hebrew as well as songs from my heart. During this time I started to pray as an almost daily practice because of my deep desire to have a child. My marriage had ended because of some minor incompatibilities, but largely because my husband didn't want to have children and I did. I prayed to find a relationship to create a family and at the same time prepared myself to be a single parent if neccessary. Looking back, the age of thirty-one doesn't seem old, but at the time I felt the need to procreate soon, and so when I found myself partnerless and pregnant, I was still happy.
Certainly giving birth to my son was the greatest spiritual experience I have had so far. I remember the long labor, candle light, and intimacy with my sister, my son's father, a few close friends in attendance. I remember the feeling that I was doing something I and my baby had done many times before. I felt strong and whole, exhausted and exhilarated.
Ironically, my son's birth on Dec 23, 1979 gave me a new perspective on Christmas. When he was a year or two old I decided to have my one and only Christmas tree in gratitude for his birth and and with an appreciation for the Christmas holiday that I never had before or since. That first year of my son's life marked a turning in my connection to Judaism. I met Hanan Sills and was amazed that a rabbi could be not only a hippie, but an inspiring person who taught me something every time he led services. I remember the baby blessing ceremony held during Rosh Hashona services that year, probably among the first services I attended after B'nai Israel. I don't remember participating in the Mendocino Jewish community very much until I realized that if I ever wanted my son to have a Jewish education I would have to set an example. This was a struggle for me, encouraged by me sisters occasional prodding because I was not inspired once Hannan left the area.
Fortunately Rabbi Margaret Holub came to the area and I was engaged by her lively, humorous and inclusive manner. Once again, I began to learn something interesting at services, especially in the two years preceding my son's Bar Mitzvah in 1992. I learned and relearned a lot about Judaism attending family class with my son and even discovered how much I liked some of the people I had previously felt estranged from in the Mendocino Jewish community. I entertained the idea of studying Hebrew myself but without the structure and support of an adult class it didn't happen. Luckily Margaret is teaching our Bar/Bat Mitzvah class and not an auto repair class, because I couldn't pass up an opportunity to take class from such a natural born teacher, but I don't like to even look under the hood of my car.
When I try and define what "spiritual" means to me now, the closest I get is the idea of total connectedness. The feeling goes back to my pantheistic roots and encompasses both those moments when our voices sing "Shema Y'Israel" and the sound fills and vibrates within me as well as those moments of silence in my garden when all is beauty and it too fills and vibrates within me.
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Last updated 05/14/98 (rge)
Copyright MCJC 1998