January 30th, 2012

So onward in our Jewish Journey and tonight Rabbi Porter comes over to tell us what and what cannot be Kashered in our house. I am dreading this visit. I tend to pick up a bowl or pie plate and feel my Gramma and Dad in those utensils. I remembered quite well when my Dad  used that milky green bowl, the one with the divet in the bottom that makes it impossible to  get a "good mix", to dredge rabbit through it and fry it up quick, or mixing Hammentashen dough. Oh yes, a varied and blessed background!

And that "hochfleischer" my great Gramma Rosie used to hock and chop  G-d knows what. Whatever she cleavered turned out awfully good. What about my mom-in-law's dishes?? She welcomed me into her home with food on those dishes. 

Damn. Some of this feels awfully silly and yet.... yet... I get it that if I drag my mind along, my heart tends to follow. It is only when I am in it and gut it out a bit, can I tell if it is a proper fit. This is not ideal when it comes to Kashering your home.

Oh yeah, did I mention my beautiful daughter's? Patty is my beyond the stars and moon lucky gift of a step-daughter. She is Christian. You would think this presents problem. So far, so very good. I have no way of knowing what she does not say...so I am trusting in what she is saying. I look at her and feel... encouraged to be what I was meant to be.  Becca, my 20 yr old heart tugging flying with exuberant laden wings. She has the Neshamah of a very old Jew in there somewhere, but is wrapped up in a 21st century mind and body. She is the earth itself and has the best bullshit detector I have seen.  And then there is Ellie. A constant stream of water flowing over rocks and pebbles and meandering beautifully with a razor sharp mind ... she will cure cancer on a mountain top while dressed in vintage lace. 

OH! Did I mention my husband? He is a quirky sort of guy. A quiet until -he- is -not, sort of man. A presence. He is strikingly good looking though he thinks he is not. He is beyond reasonable, beyond intelligent. He is kind. He is stubborn. He makes me soar while grounding me. Both are gifts, both are a responsibility. He is sloppy and collects thins he thinks he can use or fix. He is thinking seriously about converting to Judaism. SOooooo, he taught himself Hebrew in 4 to 6 weeks.  Get it? 

Tonight, we open the intense personalized private recipes and mixing bowls, the pans that held my first challah. The pie plates that held crusts lovingly made with lard.  if you expect me to say that bacon is not good or pie crusts made with lard are disgusting and my mouth doesn't  water, you are wrong. I am just one person, joined with another, trying on for size some very ancient beautiful practices.

We would like to see if this links us to this community. We want to feel mindful of the gift of food in a uniquely Jewish way. My great Gramma did this. My Gramma rejected it. My mother is angry at it. And, us? We are just people.