I have no idea how Tilley became a Jew. I doubt that her mother was Jewish. I guess it will remain an open question. I know how I got to be Jewish. I chose Judaism. I was raised a Unitarian Universalist, like third generation U/U. They’re pretty rare. Most of the people I met as U/Us came from other religions. Not I. But I left for the same reason that those others left their prior religious institutions: I no longer felt comfortable there. U/U folk used to be allowed to do things like pray and mention a supreme being. That started to be frowned on and the chorus against such things became louder. Then I attended the Bar Mitzvah of one Jordan Allen Gellis, the son of one of my oldest and dearest friends. He asked some very probing questions for which I may have had answers but I was never truly satisfied with them. He asked, “Do you really accept the idea of a ‘virgin birth?’ That was not the only thought provoking question in this dicourse with a 13 year old who was newly capable of making a minyan. There were other equally challenging questions that raised more issues with me. So, being a deist, I had to go somewhere else. Mainstream Christianity was out. I was never comfortable with three gods. So I chose Judaism. It took some time and some impetus from various relationships but I thought it was necesary to make a change. I attended an “Intro to Judaism” class taught by Reform, Conservative and Reconstructionist rabbis, each taking a turn at their preferred area of instruction: History, Litergy, Mysticism. I had instant rapport with the Reform rabbi, a fellow named Rabbi Peter Grumbacher and I was hooked. I converted and joined Congregation Beth Emeth in Wilmington Delaware.
In my tenth year as a synagogue member our dog went to heaven. I’m sure almost all dogs go to heaven just because they are faithful companions, extremely tolerant of sometimes intolerant owners and I’ve never heard a dog say an unkind word about anybody. So, I rest my case.
I don’t know what part of Heaven dogs go to. That’s on the assumption that there is a Buddist Heaven, a Methodist Heaven, a Catholic Heaven and so on. However, Gracie is there someplace. When the dog who took Gracie’s place in our hearts passes, I know Tilley will be in the Jewish sector of Heaven. I’m pretty sure of it. But I owe you some evidence.
Grace was a wire fox terrier and was so special. After about a three month mourning period we naturally tried to duplicate our incredible luck and my wife Betty contacted Mid-West Wire Fox Terrier Rescue to see if it was possible. When we got the word that they’d found a candidate we were elated. But the poor pup has some challenges. Having been one half a day away from euthenasia, she wasn’t in great shape. Fleas, kennel cough and other maladies vexed her so we waited until her foster parents in Monroe, North Carolina gave us the word she was ready. We piled into my wife’s ML350 and headed south. About 7 hours later we arrived.
Tilley (nee Agatha — renamed by the rescuers) was adorable. Full of energy, great personality and beautiful. And we found her to be a superior traveler. But she had quite a bit more energy as a young thing than did her predecessor. Despite the energy, she somehow found a way to meander into the family room where I was vainly attempting to learn to play the shofar, sit down next to me and listen. Whenever I tried to figure out the shofar, she appeared.
One evening the first 10 days with us, something on the other side of the fence in our backyard caught her attention. Bang! She was over the fence on a tear with a howl. Betty came to me sounding the alarm. “She’s so new here. She doesn’t know the neighborhood and how can she find her way home?” I had an idea.
Out to the front porch I went, shofar in hand. I sat and blew. Sure enough, Tilly flew around the side of the house and came to the bottom of the front stoop. I got up. I opened the front door and encouraged her to go in. But she was much smarter than I. I’m sure, were the roles reversed, that SHE would have shut the sliding glass door in the kitchen. I forgot. Out she went on a gallop, went right to that same place in the fence and hopped over it.
I thought, since the dog had responded once, why not try again. But I closed the sliding glass door this time. Out to the front stoop again went the Ba’al Tekiah (not!) who sat down on the stoop and blew again. My faith was rewarded again as Tilley once again raced toward me and accepted the invitation to enter the front hall. Again she tore off in the direction of the sliding glass door but this time it was closed.
No, that story is not enough proof. So I’ll share the clincher, in my humble opinion. Come with me as we approach eighteen minutes until sundown on a Friday night. Betty my love has not adopted my religious choice, although she supports it with generousity. She reseats the candles for the next Shabbat after Adonai puts them out. She insures the presence of the Challah and puts the wine, the Challah and the candles on the kitchen counter top on Friday night. And she joins in as the household Jew does the kiddush. As soon as the candle blessing begins, Tilley is heard scrambling for the kitchen. She scoots up close to my feet and looks up with an expression that I swear looks like glee!
As the chant of Borei peri ha gaffen rings out she is obviously excited. But she really gets going as we start to chant Ha Motzi. Our version contains the phrase, “Our voices rise in song together,” and it’s become traditional to rise on tip toes in unison with the lyric. And Tilley, not to be outdone, rises on her hind legs as we reach full tip-toe extension.
Not only is my dog Jewish, she’s an observant Jew. She participates. And when Ha Motzi is finished, she gets her piece of challah. As I said, I know how I got to be a Jew. But I have no idea how Tilley got to be a Jew. And with two of us under the same roof, I know there will always be at least three opinions.