Last week I went to services with David for the first time. He's far from being a regular at Shul, but his tradition is to go on the High Holy Days. The first Rosh Hashanah we were dating he went home to Montreal. The 2nd one we had just moved to L.A. and were close to broke so the membership fees weren't an option, but this year we decided it was time.
It was a tricky weekend for me. My cousin's band was playing at the Avalon Friday night and while I had planned to go and see them, as the first night of Rosh Hashanah drew closer I knew I couldn't leave David alone on a very important holiday. One that reminds him of family. Just as Christmas does for me, regardless of the fact that that's ALL it really means to me: time with family and the fact that it's my dad's birthday. This meant that I had to juggle more overt extended family expectations with the more covert expectations of my boyfriend. I made the right choice. This weekend brought us so much closer together. And believe me, we've had endless discussions about the interfaith thing. It's not something we haven't gone over in depth. David's position has always been a little more clear than my rather loosey-goosey one. He's much more a Jew than I am a Catholic. At the end of the day, we've agreed for a while now that Judaism would be the more dominant religion in a family we create, something that's ok with me. But at the back of our minds, I know we've both wondered how it would all work.
I'm not saying we've figured all this out, and it would obviously be easier if we were both born into the same thing, but we weren't. We're just two people who met in an adpoted home town, far from our real ones, and can't imagine being with anyone else even though we've wondered whether it would be easier. A little less than a year into our relationship it was serious enough thinking (on my part) for me to almost walk away. But who needs easy? Instead, we moved in together. In a new city. With no jobs, very few friends outside our own twosome (in the beginning) and a SHARED CAR! In L.A.!
Rosh Hashanah co-incided with my one-year anniversary of moving here and making it through our first year. I'm not sure if it was the significance of the holiday and how we celebrated it, or what we feel we've accomplished together, but I've never been more sure about making it to the other side of a leap that may have seemed a bit rash to those who know me best. I'm such the person that would have needed to know the outcome of the jump before my feet left the ground, but this was a true moment of faith, and following gut instinct.
And now for whatever reason, I'm ready to explore David's side a little more. Temple Israel of Hollywood, was very welcoming and reassuring, valet parking and all. And made me feel as though we're doing just fine where we are. All I have to go on is the fact that I have never been more myself than I am with David. In fact, it's a much braver version of myself, and that has nothing to do with religion. I'm re-reading this post, and I'm feeling a bit exposed. This is an emotionally-loaded topic. Not one that I necessarily feel qualified to write about with any degree of learned-ness. And I don't want to raise any hackles. But I have to show my heart sometimes, even though I am so good at letting snark reign supreme.
Anyway, on the way home Friday night, David was eager for my thoughts/impressions. I turned to him and said, "Well the best part was not having to look at that guy on the cross. The one who died for MY sins". And now my Catholic, rosary-wielding grandmother is turning in her grave.
(Just watch, this will be the one day that some hard core Bible basher will read my blog).
Ok. Project Runway talk tomorrow.
P.S. Heidi, if you're reading, you helped me so much last week. Without you, I don't think I would have navigated the waters quite so well.
