The Importance of Being a Bad Jew

O.K. y'all know I am Jewish. A bad Jew, but still Jewish. I love Christmas and Vicks Vapo Rub, but the Jew blood still runs strong. I love bacon and I've only been to temple a few times but yes, yes, I am still a Jew. With a name like "Tova" I often bump into fellow Jews and their eyebrows rise and before they can say "marry my son", I have to interject and say "no, no... I'm a bad Jew!". Growing up we celebrated all the high holidays and we sang the prayers and lit the candles and ate amahzing matzoh ball soup. Passover was always a blast. We would set out a cup of wine for Elijah and us kids would be sent out of the room to find crap and the cup of wine would magically be consumed. And my father would be like "Jeez, the guy needs more wine!" and my mom would be like "I THINK THAT'S ENOUGH FOR THAT DAMN GHOST!" and then a few minutes later she would say "He needs more wine". It was always a fun holiday and I used to poke my sister and be like "First born, sucks to be you." Ach! Memories.

Being Jewish to me is not so much about faith but about tradition. My incredible grandfather, who we lost last year, was our patriarch of our faith... in a very loose way. He lost his mother to Auschwitz and still had the strength and heart to continue with life. My mother was raised Jewish and we were afforded the same luxury - albeit a little lax. Because we lived abroad, being openly Jewish was just not possible. Moving into an apartment in Vienna in the 18th district in the mid 90's, we experienced first hand anti-semitism. My mother was playing some Jewish songs (if she plays "Sunrise, sunset", one of us kids has screwed up big time... stupid Fiddler on the Roof) on the piano and we got a phone call from a neighbour yelling "STOP PLAYING THAT DAMN JEWISH MUSIC!"... another time I wore my Star of David and an elderly gentleman on the tram told me that my kind wasn't welcome here. Because I was 14, I assumed he was talking about my weight. After that, we kept our Jewness on the down low.

A couple of years later, in Moscow, a Jewish friend invited me to temple. We sat in a gym and I noticed it was mighty drafty. A woman beside me leaned over and said "Oh, yeah, the windows were knocked out by neo-nazis last week". Um... cheque please! So imagine my surprise when I moved to Toronto a couple of years later. People had Jewish bumper stickers!! Da hell? It was a whole new world. Word quickly got around the Jewish fraternities that an average looking Jew had moved into town and suddenly my phone was a-ringing. It was such a culture shock for me. Eventually, I ended up marrying a non-practicing Catholic Austrian. I remember calling my Jewish grandfather and saying "Grandpa, I've fallen in love with an Austrian. I think we are going to get married" he took a breath and asked "Does he have money?" and I responded with "He has an apartment in Vienna." I waited nervously and then he said "Fine with me."

My grandfather liked my husband because maybe deep down inside, the Husband is truly a Jewish husband - scared of me. My personal faith may not follow all the rules, but my faith allows me to keep the traditions that have so sadly caused people to be murdered and to lose everything. I will never give up the traditions and I will fight for everybody to have the freedom to practice their own faith. Tomorrow night is the first night of Hanukkah... I have to work later so the Kid will miss the prayer, but I can't wait until he is older and we can sit around the table and the Husband and I can get wasted on wine for Elijah.

And whether you are Jewish or not, I wish you all a very Happy Hanukkah!