On Evolution, Religion, and Coming Out

This really got me going. See, dinosaurs are really important to me for lots of reasons. I have a kid. My dad is a Biologist. Oh, and my dad works as a Fossil Explainer at the American Museum of Natural History.

But even before he started working there, The Museum (as we call it) was always a special place to me. When the new dinosaur exhibit (as we still call it) opened in 1995 (no, I didn't have to look that up) it was a big deal in my family. My mother and brother got to see it the first day. I had to wait, but I got there as soon as I could and to this day I am amazed by what I learn there.

And then there's evolution. The article I linked to is partly about the evolutionary evidence found in the fossil record of dinosaurs specifically. They have taught us so much about how the world and animals developed that it's mind-boggling. Which is why Creationists are trying to suppress that science.

Which brought me back to my job. I teach religion to third graders at a Reform Jewish Congregation. Before school started, I decided it was time to come out to my boss. I didn't do it last year because my revelation (anti-revelation?) happened in the middle of the school year, and I wasn't sure, when I started this blog, where it would end up. But since I'm staying (for now anyway) in my congregation, I decided to keep the job that I love. Because I really do love discussing religion with children for two hours every week, and I love watching them make progress in Hebrew reading the other two.

So I sat down with my boss and told her that I now identify as a Humanist but I still also identify as a Reform Jew. And I don't believe in God. (I said it with a capital G out of respect for her. She's a good person, and a friend, and God is important to her.) I told her about this blog and all the work I've done and will continue to do figuring out what I believe.

She was interested in that stuff (as I said: good person, friend) but what she really wanted to know, as my boss, is whether I can still do my job. And it came down to this: my job is to impart a sense of wonder and connectedness to God to my students.

Really?

Oh, and when you taught them the real story of Chanukah--that the Jews were celebrating Sukkot because they had their Temple back, so they lit up the whole city of Jerusalem for eight nights, and THAT's why we light an 8-armed candelabra, not because of a stupid oil miracle--that pissed of the Rabbi. Don't do that anymore.

But...the kids asked. They wanted to know the scientific explanation behind the menorah miracle. Since when does the Reform Movement deny science and endorse miracles? I feel like the whole Movement has shifted.

Yes, says my boss. It did.

This opened a pit of fear in my stomach, but I had to ask.

What about Evolution?

She told me to leave the question open, because "we don't really know."

Yes, we DO really know. Feathered dinosaurs!

Crap. When did the Refom Movement come to this? Why, oh WHY would we want to side with the fundamentalist crackpots on ANYTHING?!?!?!

I'm hoping this will pass, and won't really come to anything. I'm hoping that I will find a way to gather the Progressive folks in my area, or in my congregation, so that we can stick together and stay Jewish and keep the Reform Movement Progressive. If this is the tip of a spear, though, it might be the wedge that pushes me out of the Movement.

This hurts.

High ???? Days

It's that time again. Rosh Hashana has come and gone and soon it will be Yom Kippur. The High Holidays bring up all kinds of issues for Jewish Atheists. Do I go to work? Do I attend services? Which rituals do I observe and which do I skip?

These aren't significantly different, of course, from the questions any Reform Jew asks at this time of year: once you make religion a matter of choices, then everything requires thought. I suppose the new question is why?

But let's begin with the what. Here's what I did:

1) A pre-Rosh Hashana brunch at my parents' house. We ate apples and honey and a round raisin challah, and it was my job to explain to my brother's kids, who are growing up "culturally half-Jewish" what it was all about.

2) Dinner at home with the fam for Erev Rosh Hashana. Mr. Jewess made fish, which is a bit of a treat since I went vegetarian a year ago (I'm trying to eat fish now because I haven't been getting enough protein) and we talked about our personal goals for the new year and our hopes for the world in the new year.

4) A morning family service for 3rd through 6th graders at our congregation, at which I read the prayers before and after the Haftorah reading.

5) Picked up some food at Whole Foods which we brought home and ate for lunch. I was hoping for kugel and brisket (and something vegetarian for me) but wound up with latkes and wheat berry salad.

Here's what I didn't do:

1) A formal dinner of any kind.

2) Erev Rosh Hashana services

3) Tashlich

4) A second day of Rosh Hashana.

Why?

Starting from the bottom, I've never celebrated a second day of Rosh Hashana and I see no reason to start now. I think it's a sign of the loss of focus I'm seeing within the Reform Movement that many congregations (including ours) now celebrate a second day of Rosh Hashana. We dropped it for a reason. For many reasons, actually, all of which had to do with logic. Now we're bringing it back because people want it. Okay, that happened with Bar Mitzvah before I was born, and I guess I'm okay with that, but if we're going to do it, there should be some reason, logic and meaning behind it.

The same goes for Tashlich. I've actually tried that, but it makes no sense and doesn't really move me.

We didn't get invited to dinner anywhere because my parents wanted to include my brother and he could only come for lunch Sunday. That's cool, although it was a little strange not having plans on Erev Rosh Hashana. I think if that happens again I'll plan something myself. I didn't go to services because Mr. Jewess didn't want to and I didn't care enough to argue.

Basically, I tried to bring meaning to everything that I did. Lunch Sunday, to me, was about family. I played in the playground with The Little Jewess and my niece and nephew and joked with my brother and his wife while we ate, so that was good. Lunch Monday was more complicated. I didn't really believe it was Rosh Hashana because I hadn't had "Jewish" (Eastern European) food. There's definitely that cultural bit there. But that's never been the whole holiday to me.

I think this time of year is one of the most healthy things about the Jewish calendar. It's a really good thing to think about what you can do better, and how you can help make the world a better place. The service I went to also drew some attention (just a little) to how we can be better parents. But I sat in services and thought about the prayers and what that word "God" means to me. I still find the prayers valuable, but I'm not sure to do when the prayers are particularly God-focused. Some of the prayers are asking God to help us. That's cool with me because I can just scan past the God bit and think of it as a metaphor, and then concentrate on the bit I want help with, realizing that I need to help myself or ask for help from other people. But thanking God for making me a Jew is a bit harder to comprehend when you no longer believe in God. What's left to believe in in that sentence?

So that's what it comes down to: What's a holy day when you don't believe in holy?

Which I guess is the point of this whole blog, really. Thoughts?

What I want to do

A few things have got me thinking about what I want. First, it was listening to the Greg Epstein interview I linked to in my last post. Then I had a really interesting conversation with a co-worker who is studying Hebrew but knows very little about Judaism. And this morning I read Ethan's comments on my response to him. 

If you don't know anything about Greg Epstein, you can listen to the interview I linked to, check out the Humanist Community Project (link in the list at right), or read his book, Good Without God. I love the work that he is doing. Now, although Epstein is ordained as a Humanist Rabbi, he seems to be identifying mostly as a Humanist, and less so as a Jew. I think this is partly his own inclination and partly because his role at Harvard is as the Humanist Chaplain, so he needs to address all of his constituents, not only those of Jewish origin or inclination. Although he does talk about making a Humanist Seder for Passover in his book, I think most of his public work at Harvard is more generally Humanist.

In the interview, he talks about his role at Harvard and in the larger Cambridge community. He is helping people to form communities in different ways, and through his website, studying Humanist communities around the world to find out what works so that others may emulate best practices.

I don't think I can get away from my Jewish origins. As I have said previously, I love many things about Judaism, and what has stopped me in the past from exploring Unitarianism or even Ethical Culture is that I don't think I can quite cope, psychologically, with a Sunday service. Services on Sundays feels Christian to me in a way that I don't seem to be able to get past, even for Ethical Culture.

But I love the idea of helping people to satisfy their needs for ritual and community in ways that feel right to them. I would love to spend my life helping people to write life cycle ceremonies that meet their individual needs (I loved writing my own wedding ceremony, which is something I should blog about at another time.) And I would also love to help people form communities that meet their spiritual needs. So I'm hoping that Epstein's project spreads far and wide so that someday, when the Little Jewess isn't financially dependent on us anymore, I can spend my time doing those things.

Then there's my co-worker, David. David is currently studying Philosophy at the University where we work, and decided to take Hebrew to satisfy his language requirement because he felt that as a Christian, he should be able to read the Bible in its original languages. (Then he started studying Hebrew and gave up on ever learning Greek and Aramaic, but I still admire the original goal.) We started talking about Philosophy and his goal, which is to find ways through Philosophy to help African Americans change the way they think about themselves so that they can break the cycle of poverty. And he felt that as a Jew, I'd be able to understand something about cultural trauma. David thinks, though that one advantage Jews have is our long history. We always have that story and tradition to keep us going, whereas African Americans lost their history because of slavery.

So I told him about the Jewish idea that we must teach our children four things: to cook, to read, to swim and to earn a living (by giving them an education or a trade.) In my opinion, it is this that has saved the Jews time and again, because although we have suffered many traumas that have forced us to emigrate, those traumas oppress only one generation. That generation may lose their financial footing, but they will make sure that their children are educated and have financial opportunities.

And David asked me a very interesting question. Because of our long history, are there tensions between Jews who want to keep the old ways and those who want to move with the times?

Oh, David.

But thanks to those who have commented here, I may have given a different answer than I otherwise would have.

I said, "Yes and no."

And I explained to him that while we have very strong disagreements sometimes, there is a concept that keeps us all together and makes us accountable to one another.

Which brings me to Ethan. I think, Ethan, that I may have overstated my case. I do not think we can force anyone out of Judaism. And I think there are many who observe the basic tenets of the faith but who think reasonably about what they do. It's one of the things I love about Judaism--that we can study and discuss and draw our own conclusions. And that's one thing that bothers me about the fundamentalists. Why freeze Judaism at one point in time? They dress like it's the 19th century and act like it's the 19th century and say "This is Judaism and it must never change again!" It's foolish.

I'm looking for a community that does take learning seriously, but doesn't impose obligations on its members. At least, not unreasonable obligations. There is a point, I suppose, where one can do so little as to not really be a member. A club I just joined requires attendance at 4 meetings per year and a certain amount of participation in order to maintain benefits. That makes sense, because if one does less than that, one isn't really participating in the club, and so it's fair to say that person isn't really a member. A congregation could require something similar.

But I understand the Reform Movement's hesitation to place such requirements on its members. Because if you only need the community when your mother dies, can we turn you away? If you want to enroll your children in Religious School, can we turn you away? If we say that those who only show up on High Holy Days shouldn't come at all, what are we then?

I seem to have turned a corner to another train of thought (to mix my metaphors.) I think that will require another post.

Keep those comments coming!

Ethan, your time has finally come!

Everyone else can read Ethan's comments here and here but for anyone who wants a quick overview, Ethan's basic argument is that rather than avoiding the Religious Right, I should engage with them, and try to convince them that what they are doing is not right. He also suggests that my disengagement from God and some aspects of Judaism might be misguided. That's a very short summary and I do encourage anyone who reads this to click through and read his actual comments, which are detailed and respectful while clearly disagreeing with me in some fundamental (but not fundamentalist) ways.

Ethan, I can understand how a disenchantment with the Reform Movement could push someone towards the Orthodox, especially the Modern Orthodox, who do embrace thought and questioning in ways that previous generations never did. In some ways, we're opposite sides of the same coin, or whatever metaphor you want to choose for people who perceived the same thing but reacted to it differently. Here's my response to what you have said:

1) I realize that many Reform Jews are poorly educated about Judaism and wouldn't even know where to look something up if they had a question, which they generally don't because many don't spend a whole lot of time thinking about religion. I am not one of these. I had a good basic education at home and at Hebrew School and a very intellectual Rabbi growing up. I also have a BA in Religion, and I've taught Hebrew School (and attended the requisite conferences) for a total of 9 years at three different schools. I have a shelf full of Religion books at home and near-constant access to the Rabbi, Cantor and Educator at work for any more-detailed questions I might have. Plus Google, of course, and the ability to tell right-wing garbage from real scholarship. When I'm not sure why Jews do something, I make sure I find out. And while I haven't spent lots of time studying Talmud, I am fairly conversant with Leviticus.

2) There is a huge difference between choosing food for scientific reasons (yes, my health, but also the health of the world--I try to eat local produce as much as I can and part of the reason I gave up meat is that meat production uses a lot more energy, and causes more pollution, than the production of plant-based foods. I also try to eat products that are ethically produced, free trade, and where possible, are processed by unionized workers.) and kashrut. Have you read Leviticus 11? It's nonsense. Never in the chapter does it say why we should only eat animals that chew the cud, only that we should. And it makes statements that are blatantly contrary to science. If I were a really good blogger I'd take out my TANACH and footnote my arguments, but I'm a tired blogger so you're just going to have to look at the whole chapter if you want to check up on me. It says in there that a bat is a bird. A bat! Do you know how hard it is to explain to children why it says that a bat is a bird, and why it says that a hare chews its cud?

I can't read that and take it seriously. You can't tell me that one of the birds I shouldn't eat is a bat, and then expect me to listen when you say I shouldn't eat lobster because it doesn't have fins and scales. Who cares? If it had fins and scales, it probably wouldn't be so delicious. And honestly, I can eat locusts but not lobster? This is not logical.

Again, I understand why kashrut can be comforting to some, and that it brings ritual to your life. But to me it means basing one's life on something that was written a long time ago and no longer makes sense. I have examined it (even tried it once), and I reject it. And don't even get me started on the milk and meat thing.

3) Spiritual differences between women and men may exist. This does not explain to me why women cannot wear trousers or kippot or read from the Torah. It tells me nothing of why my husband (or father) should own me. Or why I should cover my hair. Or why men thank God every morning for not having been made a woman. Women are oppressed in many observant Jewish communities. Think of the women who cannot get remarried because their legal ex-husbands will not give them a get. This is not okay.

4) But then we come to strategy. You make an interesting point that arguing with extremists on their own terms might be more convincing. That's true. But as they wouldn't respect my Jewishness, my education, or my right to discuss the matter, it's a difficult proposition. It seems much more sensible to me for Israel to cut off their special privileges.

On the other hand, you're right that Progressive Jews should be trying to make a more attractive option. Some are, such as Kolot Chayeinu in Brooklyn, NY. One option I have considered is to try to grow a community like theirs, which is vibrant and thoughtful and full of scholarship and activism.

Part of what this blog is doing is helping me to engage with these questions in a more thoughtful way. I want to hear the arguments so that I can consider them and refine my position. I also want my view of Judaism to be out there. The more people who read this, the more people will learn that there are well-educated, thoughtful, moral, involved people who are atheists and who are progressives and who are trying to work all of this out.

So I thank you, readers, for giving me a forum in which to do this, and for keeping me on my toes with the thoughtful comments. Keep 'em coming!

You don't own me

After my earlier rant, Eliezer Pennywhistler commented:

Unless you have also ejected Kol Yisrael Arevim Ze-ba-Zeh from your Judaism, you are fully associated with them.

Don't keep running away. Deal with it.

I've been thinking about this all day for two reasons.

1) I think I do want to eject kol Yisrael arevim ze-ba-zeh ("all of Israel are responsible for each other's actions") from my Judaism. I think that was my point about Reform Judaism: I thought we already did. Why do I have to own the actions of people who wouldn't deign to touch me? Why can't I stand up, as moderate Muslims have done with their extremists, and say, "This is not Judaism as I know it?" And more than that, why do I have to put up with the world seeing them as the "Real Jews" and me as something less? 

What this does is allow THEM to own US. It is the language that implies that I could be a better Jew, that there are degrees of Judaism, that offends me constantly. And it's what bothers me about the way we, as Reform Jews, teach our children. We lead a secular life that sometimes doesn't even include attendance at services or any kind of prayer, then send our children to a school where they are told that Jews do this and that--things of which they may never have heard before--and we wonder why they grow up to marry non-Jews. We teach them that it is wrong to discriminate, that women are equal to men, that lobster is delicious and Shabbat is meaningless, and then let the world believe that the Orthodox are the "real Jews." Well, then--what does that make us? If we are not real Jews, what are we doing? And if we are real Jews--if we can be real Jews without sexism and kashrut and Shabbat--then what is Judaism? Or Jewishness?

2) Which brings me to Eliezer's second point. He accuses me of running away. Oddly, he is the first person to do this. And it makes me wonder.

Clearly, I am running away. I have described this (but maybe not here) as my mid-life crisis. That, I will own. And I know this atheism was born of a repulsion I feel toward the Religious Right. So in that regard, I am running away. I'm running away from being perceived as a Religious Jew--a title that I previously fought to have applied to me as a believing Reform Jew, but which now makes me think of hatred, violence and oppression. And in general I prefer the "deal with it" approach to the "running away" approach.

I would also argue that this blog is my attempt to deal with it. I am searching for the other Jews who believe as I do: 

• That equal rights, freedom and dignity for all is essential
• That careful choices about eating can be made on a scientific, rather than textual, basis
• That God probably doesn't exist, but Torah and Talmud do, and there is wisdom in those texts--wisdom that comes from people who have lived before us.
• That questioning is the primary responsibility of the Religious
• That people should be judged based on their actions above all else

because I want to be part of a community, and I want to enjoy the joy and comfort I have taken from rituals all my life. And also because I want to have a voice in the larger Jewish discussion, and I think many voices are louder than one. I want the world to know that the Orthodox are not the only Jews, that Progressive Jews are just as authentic as anyone, and that we, as Progressive Jews, reject the behavior of those who use Judaism as a vehicle for hatred. We reject them based on their actions and we reject their assertion that their desire to control other people has anything to do with God or Judaism. 

So, faced with extremists, my response is, "You don't own me, and I will not own your behavior. I am NOT responsible for what you do and you may not blame my religion for your actions. Neither may you tell me what to do or how to understand the texts we share. I am a smart, well educated, thoughtful Jewess, and I can make my own decisions about where to pray and how to dress and what to eat. If you can't, that's your problem."

Acting like God

SO...just when I think I've decided that Reform Judaism is for me (or at least something I can live with) and that I should stay where I am, I get an e-mail from The Little Jewess's Hebrew School teacher saying that she's teaching the children that we do good deeds to emulate God.

I think that is a stupid thing to teach. First of all, I don't want The Little Jewess to act like the God of the Hebrew Scriptures. He's got really bad manners, he's jealous, he throws tantrums and he's a bully. Second, if you tell kids that the reason they should be good is to emulate God, what happens if they stop believing? And where is the room for thought and questioning?

So I checked in with the Rabbi and she said this is definitely the new direction of Reform Judaism. She said one of her goals is "to help Jews find the language for their spirituality." I'm OK with spirituality, but I'm not at all comfortable with this kind of God talk. I don't think I'd have been comfortable with it when I believed in God (or thought I did) but that doesn't really matter because I know I don't believe in God now and that's my Little Jewess in that classroom.

And Mr. Jewess isn't happy about it either.

The search goes on...

It's been an interesting weekend...

Last night I went to services at my Temple and had a great time. It was a pot luck dinner, which is always my favorite event, and then a musical service with added elements to honor Martin Luther King, Jr. We sang "We Shall Overcome" and the Junior Choir performed. Although the service didn't get the attendance we usually see at services with a pot luck, it was clearly a vibrant, multi-generational community with inspiring music and good discussion, people who know me and my family and remember to bring hard-boiled eggs to pot luck because my daughter loves them. And people bowing as they prayed to God.

This morning I found the local Humanist group. I was by far the youngest person there and one of only two people with children living at home (there were no children present and I don't expect there ever have been at these meetings.) A woman spoke about Robert Moses and there was a discussion about the implications of his work: the benefits of some of his projects balanced against the neighborhoods he destroyed and the utter devastation to communities wrought by some of the roads he planned. It was interesting and stimulating, and a pleasure to be with people who think about the ethics and consequences of things. I later went on their Facebook page and found links there to news about school prayer regulation, the death of Christopher Hitchens (more info about him at right) and the upcoming Lobby Day for Reason which is part of the Reason Rally that will take place in Washington at the end of March. And no songs, no children, no rituals.

So it's hard to know what to do. I firmly believe that people need rituals and music and ways to honor life-cycle events. Religion has existed for so long because it serves many purposes in our lives. The local Humanists are definitely a community and they welcomed me and encouraged me to return, and even to present if I like. I am sure that they are there for each other in difficult and joyous times and I think I may join them because I enjoyed the intellectual stimulation of being with them. Next time I may even join them for lunch. But this group cannot take the place that religion has held in my life all these years. I need more.

The folks at the Humanist meeting suggested I check out the local Ethical Culture Society. I've been resistant to that because they meet on Sundays. Somehow, going to a "religious" meeting on Sunday feels Christian to me, even if they are adamantly non-Christian, and that feels too alien to me. But it is worth a look. I will add it to my list of places to investigate. After all, Ethical Culture is one of the oldest forms of Humanism out there.

I have found something I like, even if it isn't everything I need, so that's a step. Next week I'm planning to return to the Reconstructionist Synagogue. The Rabbi there invited me to attend a Saturday morning service because she thought it might be more to my liking, so I feel I should give it another chance.

I'm starting to feel like researching the local religious (and non-religious) scene is my new hobby. It's certainly interesting, and I'm learning a lot.

Is Reform the answer?

The author of Midlife Bat Mitzvah (if you haven't read her excellent blog, I have added a link to the list at the right) suggests that Reform is a big enough tent for me and my atheism. She might be right. Certainly my Rabbi has no problem with it, and she, like MBM, sees God as an abstract presence and not literally God. My Rabbi does not, however, identify as an atheist.

I have not spoken to the Cantor at length about this, but from her public words, she seems to firmly believe in the existence of God. I could be wrong, of course. These things are deeply personal and not easily talked about. I am not in a leadership position and yet I am protecting my anonymity here so as not to raise issues in my Temple. At this point that has more to do with the fact that I'm considering other congregations than my atheism itself, but as I have said, I do worry about what will happen if and when I come out.

I think the issue has more to do with consistency. Why should I stand in Temple and say what I do not mean? And what message does that send to The Little Jewess? As her title implies, MBM came to this exploration a bit later in life than I did, and her daughter was older at the time. Religious School was not so much an issue when MBM began blogging.

I have not ruled out the Reform Movement or even our current congregation. Perhaps I can get involved with a group that studies the liturgy and writes its own service. That kind of thing might be what I'm looking for--a chance to think more deeply and a way to experience my own more liberal form of Judaism. At present, I don't know of any plans to do such a service, but I remember my mother participating, years ago, in writing a feminist service at our Reform congregation. I might suggest it to the Rabbi to see what she thinks.

So thank you, Midlife Bat Mitzvah, for reading and commenting. As long as I maintain my connection to the Reform Movement I might as well take what opportunities I can for exploring the options within it.

And now it's late, and Richard Dawkins awaits...

Reform Again?

I had a really good day at the Temple yesterday. It felt great to be there, my family was there, The Little Jewess was happy, everything was good. I'm not sure I can give all that up, which means two things:

1) I need to find a way to develop a community that is either within the Temple or in addition to it, and

2) I need to find a way to live with integrity within the Temple.

You may have noticed that this blog is anonymous and (thus far) has no followers. That's partly because I don't need to be broadcasting my identity all over the internet, and The Little Jewess deserves some privacy. (Mr. Jewess is a grown-up and can deal with the consequences of marrying me, one of which is existential blogging.) But it's partly because I worry what might happen if it got out in my current congregation, where individual relationship with God is the understood norm, that I'm a Humanist. Would people still trust me?  Would I be able to pray in public (do I want to?) Would my every action be judged?

There's already some stuff that's making me uncomfortable. For example, I've decided I'm not going to bow to a God I don't believe in. But I don't think most people notice or care. But if I came out, they might. And I feel uncomfortable about the God language in services and in Religious School. Even little things--yesterday, a teacher was teaching about Jews around the world, and she said, "Wherever they are, they say the same blessings to start Shabbat," and she began the traditional blessings. I felt like saying, "Wait! Stop! What about the Reconstructionists? And the Humanists? And the Jews who don't know the blessings and the Jews who write their own blessings and the Jews who don't say any blessings?"

Can I say that? What would happen if I did?

I guess I'm uncomfortable with that statement anyway, said to a class of children who mostly don't say blessings on Friday night. How can you tell a class of Jewish kids, "This is what Jews do," when you know THEY don't do it? It's like telling them they're not Jews. Other times, I feel like that is their parents' problem. Inevitably, these kids are going to ask why they're there, and the parents are going to have to answer. When The Little Jewess comes home saying "Jews do this," or "Jews do that, and why don't we?" I tell her that we're Reform Jews and we make our own choices. I've also told her that we're Jewish Humanists, so I guess I can rely on that in the future as needed. But I need a way to explain the differences to her so that she can live with it as she grows and also understand the choices she will have to make later.

Maybe what I need is more a support group than a Congregation. I have a Congregation, and there are a lot of things I do like about it. But a basic disconnect on the issue of God is kind of a big deal.

Suggestions?

So Far

It's been about two months since I discovered Humanism. I'm not even sure how it happened. I think it had to do with podcasts. I started listening to scientific podcasts and all my favorite scientists (like Neil DeGrasse Tyson) seem to be Humanists. So I decided to check it out, and it was on The Humanist Hour that I first heard about Humanistic Judaism.

When I found out that a) there was a positive term for those who believe that people are what change the world, not God, and b) I could be a Humanist and still be Jewish, I felt like I had finally found what I'd always been looking for.

Only one problem: there aren't any of them here.

I scoured the internet. I wrote to the Humanistic Jews (who are very friendly, by the way.) I persuaded Mr. Jewess to help me found a congregation. And then I talked to my mother.

My mother is a wise woman, but she likes her mysticism. She likes a good, theatrical religion with lots of miracles in it. So she isn't a fan of my new bent. But she did have good advice, which was to talk to all the Rabbis I can find.

So far, I talked to my Reform Rabbi, to my former Rabbi who runs an unaffiliated congregation, and to the local Reconstructionist Rabbi. I'll write a post about each conversation over the next few days.

My next plans are to reach out to a Humanist Rabbi in New York City. That's close enough to go for a meeting or two, but not close enough for us to join. I've also found some Humanists who meet once a month nearby, so I'm going to check them out. And I'm still wondering if I can find a role within Reform Judaism that will satisfy what I'm looking for.

Already it's an interesting journey, and I thought bringing it to the internet might help me find some other people in the same boat, or someone who has some great advice, or people with more questions to send me in more interesting directions. Who knows?