The Yanov Torah - Wow, I made a note on March 1st that read "Yanov Torah" and then I didn't write anything else. I think I was going to research it further, buy and read the book, or something like that, before telling you about my own experience. But now it's two months later, and I haven't written anything else.

I actually started to compile some of the information I found out about the Yanov Torah into Wikipedia back in March, after my experience at synagogue. But I'd forgotten about that too, and still need to do further work. Please check out the links to news stories that I put on the wikipedia article, to get a full sense of this historic piece. Because now, I really just want to tell you my personal story.

I went to services Friday, February 27th, and the Yanov Torah was discussed and then unrolled for everyone to see and touch. If you've, never seen a Torah manuscript, it's entirely written by hand (calligraphy) on real vellum--animal skin parchment. There's a silky, furry, velvety feel to vellum that is unlike any other substance. Now, typically a "kosher" Torah scroll is not touched by your bare hands, because you don't want the oils from your hands to damage the parchment [remember that "parchment" is not that "olde tyme paper" that we think of in a modern sense of parchment... think "fine leather"]. But the Yanov Torah was smuggled into the Nazi work camp, hidden in various dorms and hidey holes and other places, and then smuggled out again into Soviet-occupied Poland, hidden there, and smuggled out again into America. It's been taken from synagogue to synagogue for over 30 years now, to tell the story of the inspiration these texts--and THESE fragments of texts--were to those who held on to them. So, in retelling the story of these people and what they endured, we enrolled that scroll right down the center aisle of our synagogue, everyone holding their hands under the manuscript to keep it up off the ground.

I was moved to tears. Even something so simple as the parchment itself, the calligraphy--these things alone can move me from an artistic point of view. At Pennsic last summer, I got to touch sample trimmings from "Torah parchment" that a scribal merchant had for sale --trimmings that couldn't be used anymore, but were still originally high-quality enough to have been made for producting a Torah scroll. Just those small fragments brought a tear to my eye at Pennsic. Standing there, holding up the parchment pages that had been separated from Torah scrolls in Nazi-occupied Poland, smuggled into the Yanov Camp, smuggled out again into Soviet-occupied Poland, and smuggled out once more to America, it was all I could do to hold my breath and keep from sobbing. I came back to services again that following Saturday morning, got to hear the tale a second time, and then got to hold the scroll again in the aisle.

I'm not sure what else to tell you other than it was amazing, it was awe-inspiring, and it's a book I really want to get and read and share with others.

More About My Journey - Several recent events have gone by that have gotten me thinking again. First, an old college friend was turning 40, and his wife was throwing him a surprise birthday party, and had found tons of us who hadn't seen him in 15 years or so, to all be there. Now, I'd known these friends in a Christian fellowship in college, and we'd led Bible studies, served on worship teams and prayer teams, and had lived this kind of lay-training and service within the college fellowship together for years. Most of these friends have gone on to missionary work, ministry, worship teams (music leadership in churches or at camps), and other related devotional positions, whether professionally or just in a volunteer fashion.

And almost none of them know I'm converting to Judaism.

A few people now, I've had conversations with them. One friend (who I knew was coming to the party), immediately was supportive and thought it was fantastic. Another friend responded with "But I don't even know who you are anymore, and it's all my fault that you're a stranger to me now because I stopped keeping in touch with you." That was the harder one to process: (a) I'm really not that different from who I was in college, and (b) even if I were different, having grown through the years, how is that "his fault" exactly? Or is he saying that he wouldn't have noticed such a drastic difference if he'd stayed in touch? I was certainly perplexed at his response.

The big test, though, was attending the party and openly wearing my Star of David necklace. And would you know something? Not a single person commented on it. No one threw out the typical "so what church do you go to now?" question. No one remarked on the necklace, or asked about it, or brought up any leading topics. It really was a non-issue.

And today was another test. I went to a baby shower for one of my cousins, and all her sisters were there, and her Mom (my aunt) flew in, and my Grandad was there (also their grandpa). I haven't been able to find my more subtle necklace lately, the one that turns into a string of butterflies or a star. So I decided to just wear my solid burgundy enamel and brass filigree pendant, and see what happens. Nothing. Nothing happened at all. Grandad didn't say anything, my Aunt didn't say anything, and my cousins didn't say anything. Of course, it's "just a necklace" in some people's worlds. And some people seem to notice detail less frequently than I do.

But on a funny note, the expectant father, my cousin's husband, is Brian. And his brother came to the "boys party" of poker and beer and margaritas, while the ladies hosted a baby shower. Brian's brother (Steve? Alex? I'm drawing a complete blank suddenly) had on a t-shirt with the sleeves cut off, and arms full of tattoos. On his left bicep was a large (maybe 5-6 inch diameter) open-knotwork Jewish Star. He and I definitely made eye contact several times, his tattoo and my necklace, but beyond the names and introductions, I didn't talk to him at all at the meet-up.

Anyway. My thoughts on the whole experience -- I've been worried often about whether my personal religious choices were going to offend and hurt members of my family and/or friends, especially the more fundamentalist Christians I've known over the years. And so far, the response has been either (a) very supportive, (b) mostly supportive and slightly confused, (c) no response at all, and only (d) one person hurt and confused by the whole thing. I think I'm finally getting a sense of how people react to and respond to someone choosing Judaism (as opposed to being born into it), and the unknown is receeding. It's getting easier to deal with, because it's less of an issue for people than I was worried it might be. And it's surprisingly more invisible than I thought it would be.

Maybe this comes because I've tried very hard NOT to make it a big issue. I'm not one of those people hitting you over the head with my opinions, my choices, or my "lifestyle." I try not to even let my choices of eating kosher be a bother for anyone. It still matters greatly to me, to be hospitable in everything I do. It's just nice to find out that there's less to worry about than I thought there might be. Sure, I still might be vehemently rejected by someone, someday. But it's less frightening to face than I thought it could be.

And in many ways, it's a matter of feeling more secure in my religious identity than ever before. And that's *extremely* comforting.

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Today's Blessing That I'm Thankful For: Matt, Jamila, Callie, and Dave