Under Jewish law, a child is not recognized if the mother is not Jewish. That’s my case, my mother was Catholic and my father was Jewish. When they married in 1949, my father insisted that he raise their children Jewish, he was raised in an Orthodox family, binding him to that history and culture. My mother agreed, she had been excommunicated from her Church becasue she married a Jewish man. Interpersonal punisment exist because of religious differences.

My youngest memory of Jewish education was our Friday night Shabbot diners, with my Mother’s participation, Saturday morning I was dressed up and my father took us to Sinai Temple in Westwood. Twice a week I attened Hebrew school, and learned as best I could to speak and read Hebrew. On Jewish Holidays, my father orchestrated elaborate dedication to Hanukah, Rosh Hashana, Yum Kippur and Passover. These rituals were not nuances, or obligatory gestures, my father was passionate about his faith, and the teachings of the Torah.

After his passing, I did not join a temple, or practice the everday prayers, except on the High Holidays. I did this on my own as my partner was not Jewish. This year on Yum Kippur I joined the New York Synagogue virtual service.

On October 7th, all of what my father had passed on to me about Israel and Jewish morality, exploded. I’ have never felt so Jewish in my life. I was reminded of a day in Junior High when a classmate scornfully said to me,” You are not Jewish because your mother was not! “

When I told my father, he said, ‘ I don’t care if you are a quarter, a half or a whole, you’re Jewish, and don’t forget that.’

Several days after watching the videos of the beheadings, rapes, stabbing and shots, I was sitting in my sunroom, and heard the children next door; screeching, shouting, and crying. As a woman who did not have children, the raucous always bothered me, not today. I loved to hear the children, safe, outdoors, and being as they should, our pleasuure.