Now that we’re in Arizona and not geographically close to my family, we’ve done the last couple Seders on our own and I’m realizing what an undertaking it is. Especially when you’re doing both holidays. 

While we’re looking for items to put in the Easter baskets, we’re also piecing together items for our seder plate and realizing all of the things we don’t have/don’t know how to do. Ex: I don’t cook, so we bought gefilte fish and brisket from a local, Jewish deli. Kyle made the matzo ball soup and haroset…. 

For background context, I grew up with a Jewish side of the family, a Catholic side, and a Buddhist dad. We celebrated many of the holidays from both sides/religions. We typically relied on my Jewish grandparents to organize and handle most things related to those holidays. My grandpa passed away a few years ago and my Grandma passed away in 2020. 

We do still have family in Illinois who hosted these events after my grandparents weren’t able to anymore. 

It’s an interesting crossroads to be at. With their passing, I had an option to really let the Jewish part of my heritage fade further into the background. After all, they did most of that work for us. 

But I have many great memories with my grandparents and the Jewish traditions we were part of. I’ve decided to try to keep them going in whatever capacity feels right and manageable given our own current values and life demands. 

It feels way easier to do the Christian/secular things. I’m not sure why that is? I guess partly because everyone does them. For me personally, I’ve not typically focused on the religious parts of Christian holidays. Full transparency, it’s usually about the fun, kitschy, stuff (the gifts, candy, excitement, etc). 

Doing these holidays from the perspective as a parent and a person who was never fully immersed in any one religion but partly immersed in quite a few, has at times, been challenging and confusing. 

But we’re figuring it out. With each year, it’s getting easier and more refined. I often have to check my “imposter” feelings and my patterns of overthinking about whether I’m doing this all in a respectable way. I remind myself that no one family is the same and traditions are unique. 

And now, here are a few photos from Easter and Passover celebrations this year. I highly encourage everyone to take photos of their family at holidays and during special traditions. Some of my favorite photos are the ones of us as a kid doing these things. They feel real, special, and important. 

Here are my kiddos rockin’ their “Gemilke-Fish” shirts from the Etsy shop that my siblings and I started.

This is our Seder plate. We’ve made a few alterations to it. We added fair trade chocolate and orange. The chocolate is to remind us that forced labor is still an issue today. And the orange is for solidarity with LGBTQ+ Jews and others who are marginalized within the Jewish community. Missing from our plate are the shankbone (haven’t done the work to find one of these) and the lettuce/chazeret. We also incorporate Miriam’s Cup into our Seder.

We don’t have a matching, formal dinner set but this year we decided to buy these plates and these cups from Amazon to make our table look more uniform. The Haggadah we like is Sharing the Journey because it’s modern and progressive.

Click here to read more about my experiences as a person from an interfaith background <3

The post 2023 Easter and Passover Celebrations first appeared on Mind Tchotchkes For The Crotchety Millennial.

The post 2023 Easter and Passover Celebrations appeared first on Mind Tchotchkes For The Crotchety Millennial.

Growing up, we’d celebrate this holiday with a few of the traditional foods, apples and honey, and by going to Lake Michigan with my grandparents to throw the birds bread. 

I don’t have an abundance of memories around this holiday. I remember my grandma telling me about it. I remember the calendar on their wall that started in September and how she explained that this is the New Year they celebrate. It always felt a bit special because it’s close to my birthday too. 

But most of my memories growing up are around Hanukkah and Passover. Those were the two we always did no matter what. Where the other holiday celebrations would happen more sporadically. 

I often feel like I don’t know what I’m doing.

After my grandparents died, I realized I didn’t want to let this part of myself completely fade away. But I feel I’m left in this place with not a lot of confidence or direction around where I’m going and where I want to go with it. 

So we’re just taking it step by step. Last year and this year we did basically the same things. Here’s how we celebrate Rosh Hashanah:

One major resource that I use is the 18doors website, specifically designed for interfaith families. I’ve found it to be hugely helpful in general as I navigate how all of this looks for myself and my family.

However you celebrated entering into year 5783, we hope it was a “sweet” one. Shana Tova!

For more posts on my interfaith experiences, click here.

The post How to Celebrate Rosh Hashanah 2022 – a multifaith background perspective first appeared on Mind Tchotchkes For The Crotchety Millennial.

The post How to Celebrate Rosh Hashanah 2022 – a multifaith background perspective appeared first on Mind Tchotchkes For The Crotchety Millennial.

Looking back, it seems obvious now how intentional my grandparents were in trying to keep our Jewish heritage alive in us kids. When we were younger, we spent many weekends with them at their condo in downtown Chicago. We’d meet halfway at “Grandma’s Restaurant” where our mom would see us off and go back to Indy to do children’s parties for the weekend. 

I remember being excited to be with them. We always did fun things together. We also regularly went to synagogue with them on Friday nights too, and even then, they somehow managed to make that tolerable, and even enjoyable. 

As I got older, I really lost touch with organized religion in general almost as soon as I could. Coming from the background I had, I couldn’t wait for some of my own agency to, honestly, just stop fucking with it. Because I can’t say I felt like I belonged wholeheartedly in anything I was raised with. So much of it always seemed to come with some level of judgment from someone or another.

I would tell people I was half Jewish when it came up, or occasionally I’d share this information even when it didn’t “come up”. But by the time I was a young adult, I knew the various types of responses or questions I’d get about it from Jews and gentiles alike. 

These days, more times than not I feel totally sure of myself and claim being Jewish with ease. And other times, it feels really complex, difficult to unpack, and filled with insecurity. I think it really wasn’t until both of my grandparents passed away that I faced the question, “where does this leave me and my Jewish identity?” I had always counted on them to be that part of me, for me.

But what happens to that part, if they’re no longer around?

It left me with a lot of questions. 

I remember my grandma, when she was in the nursing home and couldn’t host Passover at her house, asked us, “Please tell me you at least celebrated Passover?” 

I could see how this might seem like a statement intended to be loaded with guilt. But that’s not how I took it. It just felt like one of the ways she was asking if we were planning to “keep it up” – at least this holiday, for them, but also for us. 

And for all the things they did, it hardly seems like a big ask. In a way, I wanted, maybe actually needed to hear it.

As I got older we didn’t talk about Judaism as much together. Still, it’s always been a part of who we are. I’ve always identified on some level as Jewish. So from here I’m exploring where to go…

If I could talk to my grandparents now, I’d tell them their efforts weren’t for nothing. You may never find me in a temple every week, in fact you may never find me there at all, but I will pass down what I learned from them onto my kids. And I’ll learn new things too and I’ll figure out how to make it ours. 

Just like how now our seder plate looks different. We include an orange and a piece of fair trade chocolate. We read from progressive Haggadahs that my sister and I actively screened and sought out. We don’t read every single section. Now we have discussions about the words in the Haggadah and what they mean to us. We apply them to what’s happening in the world today.

And this seder feels super special in a whole new way. 

It’s not just waiting for everyone to finish the long reading so that we can start eating or trying to hold back laughter with my sisters when one of the older folks would fall asleep at the table or when we saw strange images in the Haggadahs my grandparents used to have. That were old and worn – never replaced year after year after year. 

My kids so far are not different in this way. They struggle to sit through seder, just like we did. But I know this all actually means something. That it’s a part of something bigger about building tradition. And it feels important to me that we’re doing it. 

It’s in a lot of the little things, like the fact that today I made them matzo brei for lunch. Mainly because it’s one of three things I know how to make and we still have leftover Passover matzo… And it will never not make me think of my grandpa.

If I could talk to my grandparents now, I’d tell them how much I miss them and thank them for showing me our culture in a way that makes me not only want to, but actually proud to pass it on <3

The post Thoughts on Growing up “Jew-ish” first appeared on Mind Tchotchkes For The Crotchety Millennial.

The post Thoughts on Growing up “Jew-ish” appeared first on Mind Tchotchkes For The Crotchety Millennial.

I was raised in and exposed to three different religions: Judaism, Catholicism, and Buddhism. My mom’s side of the family was Jewish, my dad’s Catholic, they both converted to Buddhism and my mom left that religion when I was young, became atheist/agnostic, and my Dad I believe still identifies as Buddhist.

It would take more than one blog post to completely describe what it was like growing up with involvement in this many religions. At times it felt like I was being pulled in all different directions depending on the family member or situation. It could be a truly confusing, and often isolating experience.

With religion, you can learn to hide who you are. It always felt like my religious background was too much to explain to people – and when I tried to, many times people thought I was weird, or that my family was weird, or they’d try to convert me, or they’d say something rude or antisemitic, or they’d lose interest in me as a potential partner or friend. Most of the time, it was just easier to never mention it.

By high school and college, I got more comfortable, and I started giving less fucks about people who had something shitty to say about it. And it turns out, it’s actually not that hard to explain. It takes only a few sentences: My mom’s side of the family is Jewish. My dad’s side of the family is Catholic. My dad is Buddhist, my mom is an Atheist. I’m not an expert on any of them but I know something about each one. And that’s it.

And the truth is, I’ve been to the Nichiren Buddhist community centers to chant at the altar with my Dad. I’ve been to synagogue to hear Rabbis read from the Torah with my grandparents. And I’ve sat through Catholic services with random Catholic family members. I’ve done these things countless times in each setting as I grew up. I’ve celebrated Passover, Rosh Hashanah, Hannukah, Easter, Christmas, etc. etc.

You’re a part of the community and you’re also never fully a part of any of them either. So where does that leave me? It’s a confusing place to exist.

Family members from both the Jewish and Catholic sides made references to Buddhism being a cult. It was clear no one really accepted my dad for that, and honestly, the way it was presented to us in my opinion, wasn’t great, so I rejected it too and have made similar comments.

Judaism, for me, was always my favorite. Sure, synagogue could be boring, but I actually liked the rituals, the hymns, and the language. I went with my grandparents often as a kid. I loved my grandparents so much. And I knew how much they loved me too. My grandpa always made it special by taking us to get Baskin Robbins Friday night after services. I felt much more at home with them and in this Jewish setting than I ever did with any others. The way my grandparents presented Judaism was, and remains, special to me.

I know there are some good Catholics out there, but I personally wouldn’t touch that one with a ten-foot pole. It always felt like a very judgmental environment. I was way less connected to my Catholic side of the family. It was very clear from the start we were outsiders – having a Buddhist Dad and a Jewish Mom. We lived downtown and attended inner-city public schools in Indianapolis.

I experienced exclusion from other Jews, but not from my Jewish family, who I felt, regardless of the choices my parents made, always loved and accepted us.

I’ve dated Jewish guys, had Jewish friends, had Jewish peers, and in general they’re just way more accepting in my experience. But there’s still that thing about your mom’s side being Jewish making you some type of “official” Jew. So it was all good when they heard my mom was ethnically Jewish, but once it was found out that my grandma was a convert, I could tell people were less excited about accepting me into their circles.  

I didn’t grow up in Jewish day school, go to Jewish camp, have a Bat Mitzvah, or have connections to a large Jewish community. Antisemitism was something I experienced growing up and into my adulthood. I’ve been “bothered” by people who find out I’m Jewish. Some who actively try to convert me though I never, ever asked for that.

A Christian woman I worked for invited me to dinner after I told her I had Jewish family and was half-Jewish. She waited until after we ate to try to convert me. She told me that my grandparents were going to hell and that so would I if I didn’t accept Jesus.

When my Jewish grandfather died, I worked at a law firm and had a Catholic lawyer boss at the time. He bought me some stupid prayer card from his church and told me that they were going to read my grandfather’s name at a service to save his fucking soul or some shit, and that I was welcome to come. What I wanted to do was crumple it up and throw it in his face. But since he’s my boss and I’m like 25 years old, I said thanks awkwardly and regretted it later.

I had a boyfriend in college, who after dating for months, once he found out I was part Jewish and I didn’t identify as a Christian, also said I was going to hell and that it wasn’t right and that we wouldn’t be able to be together long-term.

It’s being in middle school and having your friend sleep over, and waking up to your Dad and his Japanese Buddhist friends chanting at the gohonzon and your friend being like, “wtf is happening right now?” And you’re just a shitty, insecure little pre-teen so you say, “It’s just my Dad and his weird ass religion.”

I can mumble Baruch Ata Adonai, but not always know how to finish the rest. It’s realizing that Trina is saying a Buddhist prayer (one you were forced to chant) at the beginning of “Be Alright.” It’s your Catholic aunt pleading with you to find a church to go to as you head out for college – even though you spent the least amount of time in those spaces and mostly just think about how creepy and gross the priests are.

This shit scratches the surface, but it’s for sure not the full picture.

Fast forward to now, I recently had an extended family member question my interfaith status on one of my IG posts. They told me on my own post that my “nuclear family was Buddhist.” Stated with what appeared to be the utmost confidence. As if they were a living, breathing member in our house during the time and knows my experience better than I do? Like we shared bunk beds and were dragged to all the same places together.

People saw what they wanted to.

This family member apparently thinks we all just only practiced Buddhism because my dad was Buddhist? Lol. And ok…. I can’t even also begin to unpack the patriarchal bs that is attached to that statement… BUT

Please know, because my dad was Buddhist, didn’t mean it was the whole household’s embraced religion. It was not the only religion we grew up with or practiced. Only my dad fully claimed to be Buddhist. (And for a brief time, my mom and I believe my brother did for a time).

And even if it had been that “simple”, and we were all raised consistently in a Buddhist setting with no other religions in the mix – chanting together in unison at the gohonzon every weekend – I’m sure it still never would have been simple. Because everyone else thought Buddhism was weird af.

Basically, if you and your kids weren’t going to at least two places of worship semi-regularly (and I don’t just mean that one time you had a sleepover and got dragged somewhere the next morning), if you only celebrated one set of religious holidays, if you weren’t told you were going to hell when you mentioned your Jewish heritage to your peers, I honestly just don’t want to hear it. You don’t get to tell me “what I was” growing up.

K? Thanks.

(For more on this topic, click here).

The post Growing up Interfaith – A Rant first appeared on Mind Tchotchkes For The Crotchety Millennial.

The post Growing up Interfaith – A Rant appeared first on Mind Tchotchkes For The Crotchety Millennial.