May We Rejoice

At our service on August 22nd, we welcomed BluePrint graduates who have chosen conversion into the Jewish people. Terri Shih drashed about her experiences which brought her to Judaism and shared her wishes of rejoicing for us.

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Produced by Mishkan Chicago. Music composed, produced, and performed by Kalman Strauss.

Transcript

Transcript

Hello and welcome to Contact Chai. Today’s episode is a Shabbat Replay of our service on August 22nd when  we welcomed BluePrint graduates who have chosen conversion into the Jewish people. Terri Shih drashed about her experiences which brought her to Judaism and shared her wishes of rejoicing for us. And now, take it away, Rabbi.

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Good evening everyone, and Shabbat Shalom. My name is Terri Shih, and I am one of the Blueprint conversion students from this year’s cohort. I’m here to talk about what this journey has meant to me. To get us started, I’m going to do the most Terri thing in the world — begin my speech with an extremely personal story even though I just met most of you. You’re welcome!

About a month ago, I was sitting in my therapist's office, weeping. I’d just come from another series of blood draws and scans for our infertility diagnosis. I was navigating a new, demanding job where I don’t have a support system yet and juggling the logistics of work and extra doctor’s appointments. In the past couple of years, I’ve been laid off, twice (thanks economy), and like so many of you, have watched the world news with horror and disgust, and then been expected to carry on with my day. Near the end of our session, my therapist asked me “Terri, what’s 1 thing you are doing right now that’s just for you”? I immediately replied “I’m converting to Judaism”. When my therapist asked more, I told her “Well doctor, it’s been so joyful. I guess that’s why it doesn’t come up much. I don’t usually come in here telling you everything that’s going well”. Before our session ended, she said “Terri — that joy you feel with Judaism? Lean into that. Especially when things are hard”. So, that’s what I’m here to do tonight. 

When people ask what led me — a Taiwanese American with immigrant parents — to choose Judaism, the truth is, there’s no one event or reason. I grew up in a town with a large Jewish population (shoutout Lexington MA), where my friend’s dad was a rabbi. I felt at home celebrating Shabbat, holidays, and b’nai mitzvahs, and, of course, always jealous of everyone’s fun Jewish summer camp stories. Through school and into adulthood, I remained close with Jewish friends from various walks of life, and then in 2021 in the height of pre-vaccine COVID, I fell in love with a Jewish man, my now husband Jacob. Even from the beginning, he was clear that there was no expectation to convert, just a willingness to learn and be a part of his family’s traditions. Over the course of our relationship, I’ve joined family and friends for holidays, attended weddings, sat Shiva, and welcomed babies at baby namings. What started as a journey to learn more about Judaism for our future children led me to realize that it wasn’t enough for me to just live in a Jewish household. I felt connected to the culture, prayers, and rituals in ways that deeply moved me.

https://youtu.be/nPzixrh9gFc

This week’s Parshah, Parshat Re’eh, commands us to center joy in our lives. Specifically, on why we celebrate Sukkot, Deuteronomy tells us:

“And you shall rejoice in your festival, you, and your son, and your daughter, and your manservant, and your maidservant, and the Levite, the stranger, and the orphan, and the widow, who are inside your gates. Seven days you should hold a festival for God …and you will have nothing but joy.”

In preparing for this speech, I read several interpretations of this passage that resonated with me. Rabbi Danya Ruttenberg says that while the passage often gets translated as “be joyful”, another interpretation is “to rejoice,” a more active and intentional action, and that the instructions for rejoicing are quite clear:

1. First: Gather your son/daughter/anyone inside your gates — or what I interpret as your community. Rabbi Lizzi shared with me that while the language of son/daugther or man/maidservant feels very binary to us today, in the context of the Torah, it is unusually inclusive in going out of its way to include both son AND daughter, man AND maidservant. Therefore, we can understand this passage as asking us more broadly to include everyone we love
2. Second: Pay special attention to include the widow, orphan, or stranger — or what I interpret as anyone in need of extra support or particularly vulnerable
3. Third: Rejoice in your festival — or find a way to celebrate with them 

In sum: this Parshah is asking us to be in community, reach out to those in need, and to find the strength it can take to choose festival and life even amid hardship. When I think back on this past year, every 2 weeks, my amazing cohort of fellow students made the time to be in community with each other. Amid work schedules, medical appointments, family hardships, studying, and the general chaos of life, we built our own community. We made Judaism and being in Jewish community our priority, and in doing so, have built special bonds that will extend far beyond our classes ending. For me personally, having our class every 2 weeks to look forward to — something that was just for me and Jacob to attend to build our family’s practices — kept me centered and fulfilled even amid a very difficult year.

In the above passage, we are told who to include in our celebrations. But what if you are the orphan or widow in this situation? When I first read this passage, I remember asking myself — how can the Torah command someone who is navigating such hardship to feel something like joy? Rabbi Melanie Levav offers this interpretation — namely that the passage doesn’t command the widow or orphan specifically to rejoice, but rather, that the community around the vulnerable — anyone within those walls — are responsible for rejoicing and supporting them while they cannot. I’ve seen my Blueprint class live these values in real life, from offering to cook gluten free meals when family members are in the hospital, to job hunting support post layoffs, to kind words when someone is having a rough time. This year has shown me the power of just showing up and being there in whatever capacity or way that you can be. 

When I reflect on this Torah passage, and more broadly on what I’ve learned this year, one of my biggest takeaways is that joy isn’t just about having fun - though it can be that too. Joy is something much more profound, spiritual, and disciplined, and it requires us to be willing to be vulnerable and honest with ourselves and those around us. This conversion experience has challenged me in new ways to push beyond the surface and first reading, to grapple with uncertainty, and to understand the world around me more deeply. To give an example, when I first read this passage, I interpreted it at a surface level, commanding the widow and orphan to rejoice. As someone who struggles with depression and anxiety, I remember my knee jerk reaction was anger. When I introspected on why, it’s because based on my surface reading, it reminded me of times when (well meaning) people have told me to just “be happy” or “be less anxious” when I have shared my mental health struggles. However, upon reading this passage more closely, and in discussing with Rabbi Lizzi, I was moved by these words from Rabbi Alan Lew:

“When we speak of joy here, we are not speaking of fun. Joy is a deep release of the soul, and it includes death and pain. Joy is any feeling fully felt, any experience we give our whole being to. We are conditioned to choose pleasure and to reject pain, but the truth is, any moment of our life fully inhabited, any feeling fully felt, and any immersion in the full depth of life, can be the source of deep joy.”

So, with these words in mind, as I draw to a close, here’s what I wish for everyone in this room:

• May we wake up each morning and live our lives according to our values. May we find community and loved ones who encourage us to be our whole beings, and may we find joy by experiencing head-on the full spectrum of what life can offer us. 
• May we keep supporting the vulnerable and showing up for each other. There’s so much pain and darkness around us, and we are more divided than ever. May we do the truly difficult thing of leaning into the discomfort and trying to find our shared humanity in a society that would prefer us divided.
• May we watch K-Pop Demon Hunters at least once but ideally multiple times. And when you do, please let me know because I am dying to talk to you about how this movie is actually a beautiful blend of the Asian-Jewish culture that I am excited to be a part of and to help build. No spoilers, but seriously, the pains of assimilation, not hiding who we are, seeing beauty in the broken glass, a killer soundtrack — this movie has it all 
• And to my conversion cohort: may we find meaning as we build our Jewish lives and practices. I know I personally am already struggling with imposter syndrome. But may we remind ourselves in these moments of doubt that we’re doing enough just by choosing to practice Judaism. And may you all remind me of these words when I inevitably am too hard on myself and forget them :) 

I would like to end tonight with a moment of gratitude. To my wonderful conversion cohort, and also to Rabbis Steven/Lizzi, my mentor Avery, my friend Tzlil who helped me pick my Hebrew name, and of course my husband/in laws, friends, and family who have supported and encouraged me throughout this year: Thank you. I’ve learned so much from each of you, and I am a richer and more joyful person because of it. I wish everyone here a beautiful Shabbat, high holiday season, and year. Thank you for inviting me to speak here tonight, it’s been an honor.