Child of Israel?

     Due to the deterioration in my grandmother's memory (which I discussed in this post), I have started going to OU Hillel, the Jewish Student Center at my school. Now this is not as out of left field as it may seem.
     My grandmother was raised in a Jewish family and is extremely proud of her heritage. She converted to Christianity when she was in her teens and from what I understand, it was a gradual, informal conversion. To others, it may seem difficult to reconcile two halves of my grandma. On one hand, she is so proud of her heritage and people that she has no problem saying things like "I've never met a Jew I didn't like" or that her favorite people are Jewish. On the other hand, she is proud that she knew who Jesus was before anyone ever talked to her about him and she talks about how important it is to believe in Jesus. Growing up, I thought this was normal. It took me a long time to realize that not everyone had a grandma who was both Christian and passionate about Jews going to heaven.
     My grandma has been forgetting more and more. It got to the point that she couldn't remember what country her grandma emigrated from. That may not seem like the biggest deal, but if you had heard her go on and on about Jews from Russia and communism, you would understand that this was a huge deal. I realized that I had hit a brick wall when it came to learning about my Jewish heritage from her. I also recognize that she is my one ally in my passion for understanding Jewish culture. If I wanted to develop my knowledge, I had to seek outside sources and community.
     So I started going to OU Hillel. I had never gone before because when I learned that I wasn't eligible for Birthright (a free trip to Israel for people who are the right amount of Jewish), it made me feel like I wasn't eligible to be in the organization. However, Hillel has been welcoming, fun, and enlightening.

Me at a Shabbat Night: Painting with an Israeli Twist

     I didn't think that I would really learn that much about my grandma seeing as their focus seems to be on Israel and religion. I was proven wrong. One day, I was telling my grandmother about a dinner I went to at Hillel. I was telling her about the food we ate and I mentioned we had a soup, but I couldn't remember the name. "Oh it had these doughy balls in it," I said. "Matzoh ball soup?" she asked. I told her that that was it! Matzoh ball soup. A few tears were brimming in her eyes. "My grandma made the best matzoh ball soup," she said. It seems kind of stupid for this moment to mean so much. And yet, I know I will never forget it. I went 21 years without my grandma ever telling me about what Jewish foods her grandma made her. But here I am eating Matzoh ball soup, not knowing that the mere memory of eating this food seventy years ago could bring her to tears.
     So I will keep going back to Hillel in the fall. I hope to learn as much as I can and maybe I will learn more about myself in the process.