Allies when you least expect them

#ISS2013. This was the hashtag of my life over the last two weeks. I tweeted my way through Texas, Tennessee, Mississippi, Arkansas and Louisiana. I apologize for not updating my blog along the way, but I got to a point where my experiences were very emotionally challenging. I didn’t have the space I needed in my head to be able to write.

Christian community leaders in Tennessee

Last time I updated my blog I had experienced a wonderful Purim celebration with a wonderful congregation in Watertown, TN. The next day we continued on to a lunch hosted by the Caleb Company, followed by a discussion in Brentwood, Tennessee with Christian leaders who were there to represent their congregation. We were hosted by a wonderful woman named Betsy who opened her home and her heart to give us a platform to share our message. I made sure to dress in my Sunday best but had reservations over whether or not I could truly open myself up to mainstream Christians.

When I was a little girl (probably 8 years old), I went to once per week to study under the Kumon system, developed in order to help children improve and excel in mathematics. This class was held at a local church. One of the classrooms, which looked like any other classroom I had been in at the time, was filled with plenty of visual stimulation and learning tools. Across the top of the wall was a picture border surrounding the perimeter of the classroom. It was the story of Jesus, so I walked along each section, reading what friends my age were learning in Sunday school. And then I got to the part where Jesus was sentenced to death. By that time, I was really upset because he seemed like a good guy. The next section would forever influence me and my feelings towards the Christian faith. I remember it very clearly:

“The Jews Killed Jesus”.

I was a Jew. I was eight. How could I have killed Jesus? Why would I or my people do such a thing? It was heartbreaking for me and I felt as bad as a little kid could feel in being told that her people killed someone. As I grew up, I always distanced myself from Christians because I felt, through that experience, I was able to see what they really felt about me. In high school this was further exacerbated when I was told by a friend in choir class that I was going to hell because I didn’t believe in Jesus. Well great, first I learn I killed your savior and I now I’m going to hell for not believing him. I knew at that point that I didn’t belong in America. I immersed myself in my Jewish studies and my Persian heritage, making sure to always surround myself with people who loved me and who were like me. 

As I stood in front of this crowd of Christians, representing Israel and the Jewish people, I felt alone and disconnected. They were all wonderfully sweet people, but I still had my guard up. During question and answer period we received the usual questions, except one woman got up and asked “Why is it that Christians ally with Israel, but Jews don’t always ally with us?”

I felt like I was punched in the gut. All the sudden my dark red dress went from representing the red in the American flag to representing the thousands of years of Jewish blood spilled at the hands of Christians because of the one belief: The Jews killed Jesus. I took a deep breath and shared with her my experience as a little girl, which isn’t far off from those of many of my other Jewish friends growing up. This was the first time that I had ever opened up to anyone about this story, and it was very emotional for me. 

At the end of our time to speak, the group, about forty Christians representing a dozen denominations, huddled around us and prayed out loud. Members, one by one, chimed in with their blessing for me, calling me by Hebrew name “Yocheved” which means “Glory of God”. They openly apologized and prayed for my forgiveness. They poured their hearts and their souls into my hands, and I was overcome with an overwhelming sense of reconciliation. As I stood there, weeping with tears streaming down my face, I was able to break through my barrier of defense against the Christian community. Just thinking about it, my eyes well up with tears as I re-experience the love that I felt from this phenomenal group of American Christians who were able to come forward, take responsibility for the actions of their fellow Christians, shower me with love and goodness, and genuinely pray for my healing from my childhood experience.

Several members from this crowd are scheduled to be in Israel soon. It’s about time we come full circle and I greet them in Israel, the Jewish homeland- my homeland, as together we expunge the hatred that has created so many barriers along the way. I want nothing more than to stand with them at the entrance to the Church of the Holy Sepulchre in Jerusalem, in front of the very stone Jesus was laid as he was prepared for burial. As a Jew, I am a guardian of his faith. As a Jew, I will protect the land of Israel, and as a Jew, and I will stand in solidarity with whoever is ready to stand with me. 

Home is where Purim is

Today is the Jewish holiday of Purim, where we celebrate our deliverance from a decree of genocide given against the Jews of Persia (Iran) by the evil Haman, the viceroy of King Xerxes of Persia (known in Hebrew as Ahashverosh and in Persian as Hashayarsha Jamshid). This holiday has a special meaning for me because I am Persian, and my dad comes from Iran. My dad recalled the many times he visited the tombs of Mordechai and Esther, the heros of the story, who are buried in Hamedan and I always grew up knowing that I had a special connection to my heritage.

Purim is celebrated in many ways. First off, I like to call it a Jewish Masquerade. We dress up in costumes, joyously drink alcohol (the die hards follow the commandment to get so drunk you don't know the difference between good and evil), read the Book of Esther, sing songs, and pass out gifts and sweets, all in remembrance and celebration of our triumph over evil.

This year, I have been given the privaledge of speaking to so many wonderful people in order to share my story as a former IDF soldier and my personal triumph over evil. We've been traveling around the south and I knew that I would be away from home. Vida, our coordinator, assured me that we would be attending a Purim celebration and I couldn't wait for a new experience.

We set out right after Shabbat ended and made our way to the town of Watertown, Tennessee. It was in the middle of a pastoral setting, with a spacious landscape and homes scattered here and there. We finally arrived at our destination- the LAMB Fellowship. Let me tell you- these people were amazing.

Osama Bin Haman and I

A bright and cheery congregation greeted us warmly, dressed in costume (including Osama bin Haman!) graciously welcomed us as we together continued to elevate the sanctity of the day. The sanctuary was beautifully adorned with tapestries recalling the 12 tribes of Israel, all majestically woven by members of the community. The congregation prayed in Hebrew and helped me connect to the Godliness in each and every one of them.

I got up and spoke, and at the end of our stories, the congregation came together to bless us. 100 people gathered 'round close and I closed my eyes. Shepherd Scott led a beautiful prayer for our safety, wellbeing, and a host of other goodness that seems like a blur of light to me now. Someone had their hand on me, and I just stood there, absorbing the electricity and awesome power of the crowd. My whole body was tingling with the energy of his prayer, and for those moments, I felt that as a Jew, I was serving as a vessel of light and Godliness to the community. I was so moved that when he finished,  I had no words, just song and offering my praise. I grabbed the microphone and sang the following:

יהיו לרצון אמרי פי והגיון לבי לפניך, יי צורי וגואלי

May the words of my mouth and the meditations of my heart be acceptable to you,

O Lord, my rock and my redeemer (Psalm 19:15)

I  would like to offer my own personal prayer for the people of the LAMB community:

Dear G-d, as I travel the south, I have experienced so many people who have felt your presence in ways I never knew existed. My eyes have been opened to see those who have come to understand your truth, which is breaking through and touching the lives of so many. As the congregants of LAMB continue to come together to sanctify your holidays and offer their prayers in the language of our forefathers, please continue to inspire them, grant them mercy and compassion, and bring them bounty as they continue to serve as a beacon of light to their community. Amen.