Barbara Elspas

Yom Kippur 5766

What Does it Mean to be a Jew?

I am Barbara Elspas, and I am excited to tell you about myself today.

What does it mean to me to be a Jew?  To me, it means that each of us is part of a large family, a fabric and that each of us has a place where we are warm and welcome.

I have been at Congregation Beth Am almost all my life.  I am told that as a baby, I was named at  Beth Am. When I was a kindergartener, I was consecrated at Beth Am.  My picture, holding a little Torah I made, is in the flip display near the former presidents’ photos in the hallway to the sanctuary.  When we pass by, I show my sons, Alex and Sam, my 5 year old self there.

But that is not really telling you about what it means to me to be a Jew.

As a child, I felt a little like an impostor.  Big Secret.  My father is not Jewish. True--he can lead a great Seder and has done so for decades.  He can speak Yiddish with flair and Hebrew when needed. But you know, he is one of those guys who just cannot get a yarmulke to fit on the top of his head.  Growing up at Beth Am religious school I was a little ahead of a societal curve:  a child from a mixed family.  I didn’t really talk about it much. I assumed that my blue-eyed dad was one of a very few non-Jewish, non-converted members.  He rarely came to the temple.   But he is here today.

As a young child, I thought that what made a person really Jewish, to come from a truly Jewish family, was to have both of your parents come and schmooze with their friends at services, and Onegs and that sort of thing.   Now I think differently.  As milestones have passed in my life I see that there is a lot more to what it means to be a Jew. One look at Beth Am now and it is clear that there is a real rainbow of true Jews.

Here are some pillars of Judaism for me:

What it means to be a Jew is doing good works, living an honorable life.

I have a calendar on my desk at work that my friend Laura B. gave me, with ideas of Jewish acts to do on a daily basis.  Since I work  as a research coordinator at the Palo Alto Veterans Hospital , I have frequent opportunities for  mitzvot.  I can visit someone in the hospital.  I can take all the time needed to help someone find exactly where they are going.  I can comfort someone, even with a simple act, by offering a smile, as it is written in Pirkei Avot: to greet everyone with a pleasant face.

• Tzedaka - if someone is asking for something, they need it and that is a good time to give.  Whatever you have--money, food, clothing.  To someone who is hungry, the half-meal wrapped from the restaurant with huge portions might be just right at that time.

• Mitzvot-  Used to be harder to do. I remember as a first grader singing at the SF Jewish Home for the Aged. I felt fear and discomfort among the strangers at first, but then it was fun to see their faces light up.  The crepe-like skin on their hands craved to pinch our punims.  Now as a family, we do something similar, and go to cook for and serve the hungry.

• As I have gotten older, giving honor, kavod, has become easier, too.  I use the opportunity to honor my parents, in whatever way I can.  That might be listening to all they have to say, mouth closed, not interrupting them - for a change.  But really: staying in touch,  a frequent call or visit, bringing the latest photos of the grandchildren, giving them naches with reports of good grades, achievements at school, and things like that.

• Education-  be the best you can be.  In my childhood home we read a lot, out loud, quietly, studied a lot, debated some.  I realize that both of my parents continue to be educators, in music, oboe, mathematics, and morals -  even now with their students and grandchildren.

• Do the right thing - That I must speak up when I see that something is wrong.  I speak up with petitions, by talking to the principal about an insensitive teacher, by taking my family to stand and be seen with dozens, on the corner in support of a Cindy Sheehan, in support of peace.

• Tikkun olam- That is it good to heal the world. By recycling, by doing garden projects that benefit everyone who uses the park.  And by surprise learning that the food I carry to feed a family with AIDS, fills me up as much as, satisfies me, as much as it did them.

To change the topic:  It is sometime hard for me to be a TOLERANT Jew.  Maybe I criticize others too much.   This is the time of year I usually ask forgiveness from a few people.  Maybe the same ones I asked last year.

Sometime I am guilty of intolerance of people I see as on the fringe. An example:  My brother and his family are Orthodox, and keep strictly kosher.  That works for them and it is especially easy if you in an Orthodox neighborhood.  Here in the Bay Area, it can be hard.  My reaction: is to be impatient and criticize them. This year: I vow more love, more tolerance!

I have been lucky to experience these nice things, rituals, life cycle events that I have enjoyed at Congregation Beth Am (and Flint Center ).

Here I get to see our sons meet their friends, the ones I almost don’t recognize, now so much taller and dressed  in their New Year best.

On my first trip to Israel , last summer, I was given the honor of dressing the Torah at my friend Omer’s Bar Mitzvah.  I was surprised that even though it was  my first time, it felt so natural to do.

In conclusion, there is something about being a Jew, a warmth, like a shawl, like a tallis, like the joy I feel seeing my sons wrap theirs around their shoulders.

Being a Jew is not just being from a nuclear, mixed family, but it is being a member of a bigger family.  Walking in Tel Aviv last summer , shopping and using the vocabulary I learned from Orna Morad, people walked up to me and asked me questions in Hebrew.  I fit in.  I am “Am Yisrael.”  What a thrill.  What does it mean to be a Jew? It means you are lucky, it means you get to bask in the love of this big family--blue eyed and not--who make up your family, our family.