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Friday September 5, 2008

Reviving my Jewish faith in an unexpected place

by amanda pazornik
staff writer

I know what you’re thinking — she doesn’t look familiar. Though you might stare closely at my photo — making its j. debut today — or attempt the impossible by trying to pronounce my last name, let’s face it, you’re stumped.

Well, now is the perfect time for clarification: I’m Amanda, the newest staff writer at j. and a recent Orange County transplant who moved to San Francisco. And for the record, yes, I miss the consistently mild weather, and no, I did not expect to purchase two heavy coats in the middle of August.

But isn’t that the fun of moving to an unfamiliar place? You never know what’s going to happen or where you’re going to end up.

For instance, if you were to ask my friends and family where they would least expect to see my byline splashed across the top of an article, their answers would, without a doubt, include a Jewish publication.

Sure, that’s partially my fault, considering I basically dropped off the Jewish radar when I started ditching post-confirmation class to get ice cream at the Dairy Queen down the street. My guilt did catch up with me at U.C. Santa Barbara, and I attempted to revive my spiritual side by attending Monday night barbecues and guitar-led Shabbat services at Hillel. But to be quite honest, that’s where my participation ended.

Perhaps I’m getting ahead of myself and should explain why my ties to Judaism were wavering even before high school or college.

The O.C. was not exactly an ideal location to be a Jewish kid (though I’ll be the first to admit it’s gotten a lot better). Growing up, I could count my number of Jewish friends on one hand, Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur always required a phone call to my school explaining my absence from class, and to this day, my mother still loves to tell the anecdote about the time she went to the local Target to buy Chanukah decorations and the employee stared blankly at her asking, “What’s a Chanukah?”

It was tough — and don’t get me started on how far we O.C. Jews have to drive for a decent pastrami on rye.

Needless to say, the only place where I felt connected to my Jewish roots was at my Reform synagogue, Temple Beth El of South Orange County. Call it clichéd, but it’s the truth. After my bat mitzvah and before I became “too cool for shul,” I read Torah at High Holy Days services, organized youth group events and taught Sunday school through my congregation’s Madrichim program.

It’s hard to believe that after taking part in these religious experiences — some more serious than others — I couldn’t maintain fervor for my faith.

At age 25, it’s time for a change.

Though I can’t hop a flight to Israel tomorrow, I realize that with every assignment I complete for you, the reader, I am gradually becoming more in touch with Judaism.

Never did I imagine that in my short stint as a j. staff writer, I would have the opportunity to ask Olympic gold medalist Ben Wildman-Tobriner about his bar mitzvah, listen to Women of the Wall founder Anat Hoffman tell stories of struggle for pluralism in Israel, and watch Arab-Israeli teens embrace their new American friends after bonding at summer camp.

Unemployed Jews have confided in me, grieving spouses have recounted the most precious moments of their deceased loved ones’ lives to me and two Diller Teen Award winners have inspired me to look beyond my own needs and make time for tikkun olam.

Somewhere between my excitement and exhaustion, four weeks at j. have quickly passed by. In that time, I’ve grown as both a journalist and a Jew.

In that same spirit, I invite you to tell me what’s on your mind. Do you have a compelling idea for an article or know someone who would make a great story? Is it you? My e-mail address is listed below and I encourage you to use it.

After all, you’ve just read my story — and now I want to hear yours.

Amanda Pazornik can be reached at amanda@jweekly.com.

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