MY GRANDSON CONVERTS…..9/9/15        AGH

   I was born a Jew, I have members of my family who were not. Religious choice is a given for the adult members of the family. Jews and non-Jews are part of my family, welcomed, embraced and included.  Frequently we celebrate New Year’s Day and Rosh Hashanah, Christmas and Chanukah, Easter and Passover. 

   Despite that truth, my reaction to Matt’s announcement that he was baptized last Sunday was one of sadness and loss.  I am sad and disappointed because I feel that somewhere, somehow I have failed, I failed Matthew and also have failed Judaism.  Apparently, he needs more or something different from what Judaism and I have to offer.

   For me Judaism is a comfort, a way of life, it is the source of love.  I was not able, over the years to translate that concept for Matt though it is the essence of my belief.    He now believes that Christianity answers his needs. I can only continue to love him and encourage his search. I have tried to act out my Judaism for my grandson.  My Judaism tells me to be honest and honorable and humble; tells me to care for others, to worry about others; my Judaism has taught me to love; my Judaism has told me the story of who I am and who I can be.  I must strive to be better, to surpass myself…to do better, to care more, to reach out to help.  My Judaism has taught me about equality that no one person can be better than another as long as that one person keeps striving to do his/her best, to grow, to learn, to love.  In Judaism we strive for perfection, understanding full well that humanity is imperfect, as Robert Browning said,  “man’s (or woman’s) reach should exceed his (her) grasp or what’s a Heaven for?”  All this, over the years, I have shared with Matt. He obviously feels he has found it and more in Christianity.

   My disappointment reflects my concern that Matt has stepped out of the fold.  He promises that he has not abandoned me.  I take heart in the thought.  Our God may be the same God, but our succor is different, our references are different.  I must remember that nothing can destroy our love or our family even though our beliefs may have different names and diverse paths.  Our Holydays and celebrations will be different. I hope and pray that the roots of our love and loyalty will not change, but will have the energy to remain strong as always, Judaism and Christianity teach honor and respect.  I respect my grandson’s choice, I will not join him but I will always accompany him.  May we never stop loving or searching for better as we move side by side to a different drummer.   We must never forget that God is the source of love and faith, no matter what we call Him.

   I spoke with Matt two days before his conversion. It was clear that he was 

excited, that he felt that he finally knows who he is and why he is here.  I pray 

that he and I will always be able to talk to each other honestly, I thank God 

for my grandson and bless him with my love.

CONTENTMENT –   (a memoir)

   During the week before we were married Erv and I were surrounded and embraced by many people.  I do believe that my most contented moment was when they finally delivered us to the train that would take us to Petoskey Michigan, our honeymoon destination.   There were 18 people at our wedding, all 18 came to Grand Central Station to see us off.  I recall one friend who had not been invited to the wedding, was waiting for us at the gate.  When the train whistle blew and our friends and family were ordered off the train, we looked at each other with joy.  Erv turned to the porter and asked him to make up the lower berth.  My contentment was reflected in Erv’s eyes.  Everyone was gone; we were together forever, hand in hand, hopeful, happy, thoroughly contented.  We had no idea that we had more than 63 years ahead of us.  I look back on those years remembering that joyous contentment pervaded our lives, enabling us to ride the roller coast of life with confidence.

   Our honeymoon in Petoskey was close to perfect until Erv’s stomach ulcer misbehaved and I inadvertently stumbled into a problem with my new in-laws.  In our attempt to hide my sweetheart’s tummy problem from his Mother, we decided to send a wire to let them know that we were fine, enjoying ourselves and, at the same time, we wished them a Happy Anniversary.  appy AnniversaryI ran out to send the telegram while Erv and his tummy went to bed.  He asked me to bring him a copy of the note I sent: “Happy Anniversary Mom and Dad…have fun etc….”  “Omigosh”, he said, “My Mother hates to be called Mom!”  With the best of intentions I hammered the wedge between us deeper into the unknown. 

   The angst between Erv’s Mother and me lasted about 28 years.  Before she died, we talked and made peace.  It was too late for us to build a relationship, but it did mitigate some of her anger and my hurt.  She told me once, “I have to give you credit, you have been a good mother!”  My husband stuck by me through all the good and bad times, he provided all the kudos I needed. Our marriage was spelled c-o-n-t-e-n-t-m-e-n-t.

   When Erv was able to earn $65 a week without my help, we began to think “baby”. With great ceremony and glee we tossed the diaphragm to the farthest most shelf in the closet and went about the business of making a baby.   After several frustrating months we enlisted medical help. Our doctor expounded the obvious: “Ag why don’t you stop working, relax and enjoy these carefree times!” His prescription was fun but it did not work. As a matter of fact nothing seemed to be working and our confidence and enthusiasm were falling fast.

   Neither of us could imagine life without children.  When we started talking “adoption” the wedge between my mother-in-law and me simply deepened. She was certain that I was the one at “fault” creating our inability to produce children. But I had a great partner, together, we moved full speed ahead and by January of 1950 we brought Jeffrey home, eight month old Jeff was a husky heavyweight, full of giggles.  Eighteen months later we brought Judi home.  She was a lightweight, an emotional baby who laughed out loud at the antics of her brother and cried at bedtime when the fun came to an end.   We had a matched pair who challenged us to be the best that we could be as parents.  We were a contented trio.