The journey back from Berlin to Bozeman meant going back to being Jewish in America. This raised questions for me of whether I am more of a German Jew or an American Jew. I’d never found a congregation in the U.S. where I felt fully comfortable, but taking part in Jewish life in Berlin gave me a stronger connection to Judaism. My return to the States put the brakes on my Jewish identity journey for the time being.
Stepping back into Bozeman also meant a difficult decision about whether to rejoin our local congregation where we felt only partially at home. One of the first discussions I had with our rabbi after returning to Bozeman was about my daughter’s bat mitzvah. Olivia had been struggling for quite some time to decide if her coming of age ritual would be a bat mitzvah or something outside the Jewish faith. As I listened to the rabbi recite the long list of official guidelines, I was stunned to hear that she would be required to keep a punch card to mark her attendance at shabbat services. She would need to have ten punches on the card during the year leading up to her bat mitzvah, with no free coffee or hot chocolate to reward her at the end! Since this discussion took place, I can’t seem to erase from my mind the image of my daughter holding up her punch card to the rabbi after Friday night services.
Would my daughter really be more Jewish when the card was full? 
If she learned her Torah portion and the requisite prayers, why couldn’t she carve her own path to her bat mitzvah and Jewish adulthood? Wouldn’t a single profound experience at services be worth more than half a dozen boring ones? Judaism in America feels formulaic to me at times and the punch card rule symbolized a structure within which I often feel more constrained than inspired.
For now, Olivia has decided to postpone her bat mitzvah and that’s fine with me. She and I each have to find our own individual paths to a meaningful Jewish life, whether we live in Bozeman or Berlin.
Hi Donna
That’s too bad to hear, though I can imagine that your options for diversity in Judaism are limited in Bozeman and the conventional paths can be alienating. I’m lucky to live in NYC because while I don’t like conventional religious services, there are a great variety of approaches here. I hope you and your family find some way to connect that is meaningful for you.
Hi Donna –
Browsing your blog for a few moments.
Although I’ve disavowed the Judaism of Temple membership, I occasionally attend with my daughter and her little guy. My wife, Ty, enjoys it more than I, despite being an active member of Hope Lutheran and having acquired most of her Jewish arcana and even a bit of Yiddish expression from reading all of Potok’s book many years ago.
Ty and Steph both tease me about the extent to which prayers, songs and rituals are hard wired in my head from childhood. The best example has been, in addition to my having retained much of the liturgy in some far reach of my memory, the moment when the ark is opened. We sing vanachnu korim umishtachavim umodim, and there I am, genuflecting as I sing along. When I first attended Ed’s schul, I would rise with the mourners to say the kaddish, and when he got to me asking for whom I mourn, I would say, all those on both sides who have died needlessly in our unjust occupation of Iraq. The first time, Ed paused, but thereafter appeared to take no notice and has never raised it in conversation. I know from conversations over the last three years, that he and I differ very little in our political beliefs, but also that he is constrained by his acquiescence to the curtailing of his expression by the synagogue board.
Your daughter was right to reject the notion of a “punch card” Shabbat, given a choice. Of course, when I was her age and younger, I suspect that rather than missing a “punch” on the card, I might have earned a real “punch.” It was unthinkable to not attend schul on Shabbat, even though we were the cliche family who drove to the synagogue on Saturday morning, then hid the car a few blocks away and walked as though following the law. And if course, the women sat separately in the back. Having been raised by a radical feminist daughter, I find that incomprehensible.
Since reading Christopher Hitchens, I have been more outspoken about embracing atheism. I am more comfortable with that point of view, although I don’t hesitate to connect to my historical and cultural attachment to both Judaism and Israel. But the latter takes us back to politics, often a sore point with my peace and justice community on the far left, and better left for another time.
An aside about Israel –
My father’s family settled in Palestine in the early 1930’s – early zionists, from Latvia. His surviving sisters fought in all the wars, and he went to live the last 25 years of his life in the reactionary west bank settlement of Kiryat Arba. My son taught at the Hebrew University in Jerusalem for three years as he worked on his doctorate and the mother of his daughter still lives in Haifa. I always struggle with ambivalence over Israel’s imperialism and the US support thereof.
Thanks for turning me on to the blog. I’ll get back to you after reading more.
Dan
Dan, You are fortunate to have so much Judaica hard-wired into your brain. I had such a spotty religious education as a child that I have really struggled as an adult to learn many of the basics of Judaism. At least I can say I am a life-long learner! I’d love to hear more about your family history some time. Thanks for your comments! Donna
Mixed blessing. No knowledge is ever superfluous, but acquiring it by having it stuffed down my throat roughens the gloss.
I’ve not been successful at finding more time for the blog, but I will.
Dan