I’m looking out a big picture window from the clean and tiny Chattanooga airport after a big client meeting. It’s a gloomy day — low-slung clouds dumping sheets of rain on tall, gangly trees that are just starting to show new buds of spring. From where I’m sitting, I can see the rolling hills of Tennessee, covered in green-brown foliage and wisps of fog. The accents from the conversations nearby remind me that I’m far from home and family.
That feeling is quite the counterpoint after spending the last four days in Las Vegas for a huge Jewish leadership conference called TribeFest. In Vegas, I shared a small suite with my two best friends, the close quarters of the room ensuring a warm and intimate mix of laughter, disclosure, and the occasional really bad smell. By the time I checked into my hotel in Tennessee last night, I was wrung out and ready to sleep. But the quiet sterility of the room made me instantly miss the messy, loving experience of gathering with 1,200 Jewish people.
When you’re Jewish, you can go almost anywhere in the world, find members of your tribe, and feel like you’re with family. We’re a huggy, demonstrative, too-familiar-too-soon kind of people, and though it can feel suffocating at times, that immediate comprehension can dispel any sense of homesickness in a matter of moments.
I agreed to travel with EJ and EZ to the conference because I couldn’t resist the idea of spending 3.5 days in Vegas with those two jokebags. We are so different from each other that people wonder aloud how we’ve become inseparable. Three guys from diverse backgrounds, a full dozen years of age between the youngest and the oldest of us, with vastly different views of acceptable behavior, shouldn’t crave time together the way we do. We have our dust-ups and disagreements, but the foundation of love, generously given and received (uh...but no bodily fluids, mind you) has only increased over the years — it’s a relationship of brothers, mushy and enriching, transcending friendship, and transformed into a confidence of enduring commitment. When we say “I love you” to each other, we don’t find it necessary to trivialize the statement by adding “man” to the end of the sentence. Simone calls EZ and EJ her uncles.
We arrived the day before the conference so we’d have time to enjoy a bit of debauchery, and I can’t begin to express the sense of contentment I felt walking along the Vegas strip, cocktail in hand, laughing with my best pals. That evening brought a larger contingent from Denver; a mix of old friends and people I knew from being active in the community, and it felt like a family reunion of sorts. By 4am, just a few of us were still coherent enough to grab some breakfast before sleeping for a couple hours.
The next day, as EJ and I wandered the long hallway in the Mandalay Bay conference center, making our way to the registration desk, we both felt the heady appraisal of Jewish women walking in the opposite direction. Sure we were all there for inspiration, to connect with our Jewish roots, and to learn how we could do more to make a difference in the world. But a good many of our parents were also hoping we’d cross paths with our beshert — our meant to be — during the festivities. This wasn’t a singles event, but there was still a sense that the conference would end in new love for some lucky couples.
Because that’s another thing about being Jewish — it’s all about the love. We are expected to love those in our community, and to perform acts of lovingkindness, as far as we can reach, through service and charitable giving. A rabbi once told me that being Jewish is expensive, and it’s true. We are exhorted to welcome the stranger. I could tell you stories about traveling in countries around the world and being welcomed like family into Jewish households, where no one knew anything else about me.
The entire conference was really about defining our Jewish identity and finding ways to do good work in the world — to sort out our passions and make real effort to create beauty and bring about positive change. It wasn’t just the sessions, but the act of gathering with so many inspired and inspiring young leaders that gave me pause, that warmed my heart, and that gave me the impetus to ponder my own contributions.
I haven’t come to any conclusions just yet, but I’m definitely pondering a few major issues.
1. Simone and her Jewish identity
I miss my daughter so much that I had dreams about her two nights in a row. I won’t get her back for another day, and the heartache is almost overwhelming. I’m so looking forward to a few uninterrupted days with her.
Simone identifies herself as Jewish — her heritage and religion is a source of joy for her. Her mother converted before we were married because she’d always felt a connection to the Jewish experience, and she was encouraged by her parents to do so. For the short part of Simone’s life that we were together, we were unified in our priorities. But now that Simone’s mother is married to a man who is not Jewish, their household is mixed in the experience it offers to Simone. When they remember or it’s convenient, they offer some semblance of observance, but it’s not rooted in a lifelong understanding of intentions and practice. For that, Simone has me; I take her to Hebrew school, we celebrate the Sabbath together when I have her, and I provide her with a deep connection to her Jewish roots. Our extended family, her Uncles EJ and EZ, and our larger local community support her growth.
But I realize that I should be doing more — that she needs to start contributing some of her hard-earned allowance to charity, that we should attend services regularly, that we could be engaging ourselves in a deeper way. Simone really wants to attend a Jewish sleep-away summer camp this year, because she hates not knowing the songs and prayers that her Hebrew school contemporaries learned there. But her mom is resistant, and it’ll be an uphill effort for me to negotiate that opportunity for her.
2. E-3 Events and our potential
When EZ, EJ and I started our Jewish cultural events organization, we had a single goal in mind — create opportunities for the engaged and disengaged to gather together for non-threatening, yet totally unique, experiences. Our events are fun, informative, and tend to be talked about for a long time afterwards. We are great at bringing new faces to each event, and some of those newbies become more involved in the Denver Jewish scene.
But, even with a small, dedicated advisory board, the three of us are continuously overwhelmed by the time and effort necessary to keep things running. We all have full-time jobs and lots of other commitments. E-3 Events is a success, but it could be so much more. And it’s a viable model for other communities nationwide that are struggling to reach young people who resist institutionalized religion.
And here, again, I should be doing more — we have a model that should be receiving national attention (and funding), but none of us have made it enough of a priority to do the necessary outreach. We’re great at planning and producing inventive events that draw 100-500 active participants, but the larger vision and longterm goal-setting always takes a backseat to the triage of event development.
We need help. And we need to commit to increasing our footprint.
3. Dating
I’ll just say it: seeing all of the beautiful, intelligent Jewish women at the conference, and being wrapped up in the glow of a celebration of Jewish thought and practice, made me feel guilty for dating women outside the tribe. I’m not quite ready to follow the example of my best friends and date only Jewish women, though it’s something I’m considering.
I’m not comfortable keeping a list of deal-breakers, and I believe I need to stay open to the possibility that my one right girl might not be born of the tribe.
Dating Jewish is not about a sense of superiority or exclusion. It’s really more about wanting to be with someone who will participate in and support an active Jewish lifestyle — from building a Jewish home together, to engaging with the local community, to committing to the concept of tikkun olam, or repairing the world. If I met a non-Jewish woman who was interested in sharing these things with Simone and me, would it be right to send her away?
I don’t know the answer to that. But I do know that I need to be more open about my priorities — to not be apologetic about not eating pork, to talk openly about my involvement with the community, and to share in my religious observance, rather than hide it. If I’m going to date someone who isn’t Jewish, I owe it to her, to my people, to Simone, and to myself to be very clear about what’s important to me.
4. My Jewish Identity
...which leads to defining who I am, and what I truly believe and care about. When I think about the people who have given so much in order to make it possible for 1,200 Jews to gather openly (and loudly) in celebration, I feel shame at my occasional downplay of who I am and where I come from.
For me, being Jewish is about my religious observance and spiritual beliefs, my cultural roots and way of interacting with the world, and a heritage of intellectual challenge, discussion, and argument. It’s about donating money and time to causes and to people in need — not just Jewish ones — and it’s about finding ways, big and small, to make the world happier, more beautiful, and whole, whether through good works or artistic expression or even the right smile at the right time.
How my identity manifests itself is complicated and rich and beautiful and troublesome, which pretty much sums up what it’s like to be Jewish in the 21st century.
So, yeah... our time in the desert stirred me up. I experienced the love and warmth of a thousand family members, and came out of it with a basketful of unanswered questions. Yep, I’m definitely Jewish.
Sounds like you enjoyed my city of lights.
If you are indeed interested in looking into Jewish sleepaway camps for your daughter, you might want to take a look at www.nageelawest.org. It's definitely a Jewish feel, but a lot of the kids come from very limited backgrounds and have little or no knowledge of Hebrew, prayers or Jewish customs.
We are located in Utah, it's gorgeous up there, and our office is here in Vegas.
Feel free to hit me up with any questions.
Posted by: Dani Locker | March 11, 2011 at 12:30 AM
Interesting-especially the last two points about dating and being self-jewish. These are two areas I struggle with and blog about a lot in my journey of being Dad the Single Guy. The subject actually just came up last night and I still don't have a good answer.
Posted by: Dad the Single Guy | March 23, 2011 at 09:00 AM
I like Simone am a mix. Raised roman catholic my heritage includes orthodox Judaism, and from those who survived the titanic. Did you know the Elkins were there (in first class!) One of my ancestors was related by marriage to Jack Thayer. He doesn't die in the cold water loke the movies he jumps to safety atop a capsized lifeboat. The jewels stolen were family jewels all round. JP Morgan didn't get on this maiden voyage craft built by wolfs. They still Chase us. Since 1995 when new Zealand restored land to the Maori it's been intensified.I have used provocative methods to get to the truth of what is still a deep deep hatred of people who are different. It is a challenge to be a mix for sure. But I know. I have made it a better place in the future for all the Simones. Just not so good for me. Be good.
Posted by: Dar c | April 25, 2011 at 09:47 AM