the nephew.

two months and one week ago i found out that i am going to be an aunt. and one week ago, i found out i am going to have a nephew.

i have dreamt about becoming an aunt ever since my cousins became aunts & uncles to C's kids. K and i would always make controversial statements about what we would teach our sobrinos. then the day came and it's happening. now, we rarely joke about the things we'll teach him, but instead constantly text our sister name suggestions and boast about the qualifications that will make one of us the favorite aunt.

also what has changed includes how all of a sudden, when my sister says she isn't feeling well, i begin to worry! i start praying that my nephew (and my sister) will be okay and wish there were something i could do to help.

i had no idea that a new addition to the family would change me. not that i didn't care before, but i've noticed this softened side to my already soft family. i love that my dad prays for the baby and makes sure to ask how his grandson is doing. i love that my mom and i no longer have to walk by the baby section in the stores without having a baby in mind to buy things for. in fact, just last week i sent my nephew a present: a lil onesie that has a monkey on it that says, "i like hangin with my aunt." i can't wait to take a picture with him while he's wearing it. and not to be outdone, my mom sent him a bunch of things this weekend. i love that it'll be here before we know it.

on the other side of things, i've become somewhat sentimental. i realize that G has a certain path in mind for E and me, and although i'm excited to see what that looks like, sometimes i get sad to think about what i'll be missing out on. i have this weird problem. i want to go, i want to have adventures, i want to "get my hands dirty," as E likes to say. but because those things aren't yet concrete, because that is not yet my life, i act like everyone else is moving forward and i am already being left out. i am quite confident that that sentence doesn't make sense to anyone but me.

i guess i mean to say, i want to be everywhere. and at some point, you do have to choose. you have to decidedly say, "this is where i want to be." it doesn't mean that you have to let people or places go, you just have to give up what you might currently consider to be "ideal." (which is a joke anyways, when your sister, brother-in-law, and in-womb nephew are already hundreds of miles away in texas).

i wish i made sense, but that would probably scare me most of all.

empty-handed.

i wrote how much i'm planning to tithe this month on a a stickies on my mac desktop screen. as soon as i saw the number again this morning and despite hearing father's R's voice in my head saying, "s, don't forget to give to J! s, don't forget to give to J!" i immediately thought, "ugh, that's so much money. how am i ever going to pay all my bills? or save? or stay afloat." following all of these (selfish) thoughts, i went to my gmail account and saw the "daily lectionary" that i receive in my inbox everyday. this is what i read:

Ecclesiasticus 35:1-17

"One who keeps the law makes many offerings;

one who heeds the commandments makes an offering of well-being.

One who returns a kindness offers choice flour,

and one who gives alms sacrifices a thank-offering.

To keep from wickedness is pleasing to the Lord,

and to forsake unrighteousness is an atonement.

Do not appear before the Lord empty-handed,

for all that you offer is in fulfilment of the commandment.

The offering of the righteous enriches the altar,

and its pleasing odour rises before the Most High.

The sacrifice of the righteous is acceptable,

and it will never be forgotten.

Be generous when you worship the Lord,

and do not stint the first fruits of your hands.

With every gift show a cheerful face,

and dedicate your tithe with gladness.

Give to the Most High as he has given to you,

and as generously as you can afford.

For the Lord is the one who repays,

and he will repay you sevenfold.



Do not offer him a bribe, for he will not accept it;

and do not rely on a dishonest sacrifice;

for the Lord is the judge,

and with him there is no partiality.

He will not show partiality to the poor;

but he will listen to the prayer of one who is wronged.

He will not ignore the supplication of the orphan,

or the widow when she pours out her complaint."

okay okay! i'll give. and i really will try to do it cheerfully, too.

Kashrut* & Jesus

*(also kashruth or kashrus, כַּשְׁרוּת) is the set of Jewish dietary laws.

I've been reading a book called "Miriam's Kitchen" by Elizabeth Ehrlich. It's about a Jewish woman who slowly eases into keeping a kosher kitchen. Raised by somewhat nominal Jewish parents, her husband's parents continue to hold fast to a diet deemed acceptable by the Torah. Her mother-in-law, Miriam, serves as one of her main guides during the journey, seemingly unaware of the inner-battle going on within Elizabeth to learn, understand, and implement the Jewish diet in her own home.

For the past few days, I've been stuck on this one passage that Ehrlich writes. I was shocked when 130 pages into the book, she wrote one paragraph about Jesus. Five days after reading that paragraph, I still can't get it out of my head.

Ehrlich writes,

"Kashrut, I believe, gave Jesus his great opening. He ate with the common people in their homes, when other learned teachers wouldn't. Poor folk might not have had enough wooden bowls, ceramic vessels, and cooking implements to adhere perfectly to dietary laws. They might not have enough knowledge or resources to make their kitchens kosher enough for the standards of a truly learned man. Jesus swallowed his own squeamishness, perhaps, sat down and broke bread. You can get to heaven without all of this, he taught. I can see the appeal. But oddly enough, and at the same time, trying to be kosher confronts one with the ultimate impossibility of perfection. Finally you have to live with your accommodations, the limits of being human. As with a calculus problem, the solution may draw close to an imaginary line, but never quite get there. At least, I'm sure I never will."

I love how Ehrlich shows that trying to keep a kosher kitchen is just another reminder of our inability to live perfectly; we can't do it on our own. It's been such an adventure to read this book while also reading a chapter-a-day of Leviticus, and reading through Acts. It's neat to see the juxtaposition of sacrificial offerings for atonement of sin (Leviticus) alongside the Council of Jerusalem's decision not to force Gentiles to live as Jews (Acts).

I like where Peter says, "Why do you try to test God by putting on the necks of the disciples a yoke that neither we nor our fathers have been able to bear? No! We believe it is through the grace of our Lord Jesus that we are saved, just as they are." (Acts 15:10-11).

I think that, as an outsider to Judaism, it's easy to point fingers and say, "Oh, but to live like that is so hard!" But to hear Peter say, "a yolk that neither we nor our fathers have been able to bear," I feel like I can hear the commitment in his voice. Maybe he is pointing out that the laws found in the Torah were their sacrifice to give to God, in remembrance of his promise that the Messiah would come. Maybe he was saying that even though they had been waiting for the promised Messiah for generations, and even though the Gentiles hadn't experienced the same sacrificial waiting, salvation was still extended to them all, through the power of the Holy Spirit.

I wonder if the Jewish Christians who had concerns about the new Gentile Christians kept on with their Kashrut diet. Somehow, I think they did. Even though their salvation was no longer to be found in their attempts to keep the perfect Kosher kitchen or by celebrating all the Jewish observances as immaculately as possible, it was another way to remind themselves that no matter how hard they tried to separate the milk from the meat, no matter how hard they tried to rid their kitchens of flour during the Feast of the Unleavened Bread, they still fell short. The only difference was, now they looked back to the cross, being reminded that Jesus was the atonement they still needed, and their perfection was still not possible through their sacrifices, but through his sacrifice on the cross.