The 3 weeks and Tisha B'Av

Let me first start out by saying that I am not a superstitious person in general. This does not preclude ideas of intentional coincidence or accidents or even parallelism. Also, my knowledge and general practice of these times is currently very elementary.
The basics of these days can be found and understood from a historical point of view rather nicely on wikipedia (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tisha_B%27av and http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_three_weeks). Even here events other than the temple destruction are listed as happening on this same day. I will get to that in a moment.
The three weeks are supposed to be the time between the breach of the walls to the destruction. Each haftorot potion successively gets a little more grim, and the mourning increases in a near exponential fashion. We go from a minor (sunrise to nightfall) fast to a major one (sunset to nightfall). And the restrictions (or at least minhag restrictions) increase. Weddings, haircuts not being permissible in the three weeks; then music, then meat in the nine days; then sitting akin to shiva in the meal preceding the fast. Whew, this is heavy stuff. Just listing some things is gateway to mourning.
In years past I had a hard time connecting with this period, esp from a temple destruction p-o-v. And as stated, not being the superstitious type, the elevating of mourning hadn't made sense either.
Well, I have not had a great week to put it mildly. And those around me have had very crappy weeks too. In my small circle, my limited realm, I have seen destruction on all fronts. Car (and the ensuing financial) trouble, job loss, home caught on fire (because of exploding water heater) and all those ramifications, hospice status, start of chemotherapy, two different sets of hearts being broken (and all the lives that effects). It's been a bad week. Every time the phone rang, I almost dreaded it today. This was supposed to be my shabbat: day of rest, day of peace. Certainly there were some of those elements, but the overall tone was grief.
Is this what it means to increase sorrow? Is this just the beginning as there are still two weeks to go before Tisha B'Av?
If I attempt to put myself in the context of say a thousand years ago when already a millenia had past since the destruction of the temple and dispersion of the Jews, I get a glimmer of the fear. The first crusades were thought to begin this day too (though it's probably more likely that they started a few months later) (for an in-depth view leading to the start, which also indicated November see: http://www.deremilitari.org/RESOURCES/ARTICLES/magdalino.htm).
The Spanish expulsion comes a little closer (1492) and the English expulsion (1290) may have occurred on this day (http://www.britainexpress.com/History/medieval/expulson-jews.htm). It's easy to add to an existing pity party.
On the one hand, knowing that this is a bad time of year, is it easier to accept misfortune? (That could be a tremendous euphemism). Then again, on the other, doesn't adding to previous tragedy dilute to some extent both?
Tying this in to my contemporary setting and most recent events, I tend to think the latter is more the case. My friend who had a very serious apartment fire is not so concerned with my other friend's broken heart. The person who lost a job frets little over someone else's car repair bill.
I want to think this is the same on the much larger scale of mourning the destruction of the temple. The day is set for that. Tisha B'Av is a day to commemorate the loss the second temple, the day the Jews lost their holy land, the day Judaism would never be the same. I want to honor that. I want to focus only on that while still recognizing that other bad things happen on the same day. [Statistically speaking, there are only 383--ok that's a discussion for the Jewish calendar, but it's just used as an example here--days, and there have been 5768 years; clearly there will be overlap of tragedy].
I want to say that Tisha B'Av is special enough, significant enough, to stand on its own. I do not need multiple calamities to feel the depth of the day. One horror is sufficient. And I am sure those who suffer their own personal woes might would agree.

Goal

My goal this summer: learn how to blog.
No seriously, there is an art to it. Which things to hyperlink to; what other blogs that I read linked to; pictures; topics; and then just the writing itself. How to come to terms with a public sphere when these are my thoughts. What information or opinions or whathave you to divulge? How much editing or selecting do I do? And does there need to be a focus? Like this is a political blog--clearly this is not the case. Or a religious one, or a light-hearted only one, or .... the options are endless. I think these were my original questions which is probably why this is called, randomness. Fits.
So anyway, as my knight is nearly here on his trusty steed, I will leave this as is and try over the next few weeks to teach myself this new-age art form.

uncontrollable car madness

Like many of my fellow Denverites, I drive my car, a lot. Luckily I have a small sedan which gets ~35mpg. This is great at the gas pump, though when I reached nearly $60 for a fill up, I did have some sticker shock. My gas budget is around $200/mnth, give or take. Seems like a lot; considering it could be double if I drove one of those SUV's that my neighbors have, it's not terrible. Well, this was not intended to be a rant on the price of gas, you can find that anywhere.
I'm decently smart, I can figure things out. Mechanical issues don't scare me. I know nothing about cars. It just looks like a piece of fancy plastic and metal. I know where to put the gas in, the windshield wiper fluid, and where to check the dipstick for engine oil. As frugal as I am, I pay someone to change my oil. Cars have just never been a fascination point for me. I like to look at pretty ones, I admire the fast ones, I drive one. I have been known to play up my 'girl-card' for car stuff.
I drove my car like normal this past weekend in the heat. No issues to speak of.
I drive my car to work on Sunday morning and a few miles away I notice an odd noise (keep in mind, I have no sense of smell, so I have no idea if there is an odor coming from the hood too). I keep driving. About a mile away, there is a loud noise accompanied by steam. Steam is not to be confused with smoke. Smoke is grey-ish and bad, very bad. What I had was steam, white/clearish stuff which is just water getting too hot and condensing to a gas. Not so bad, not good, but again, not so bad.
Realizing that after driving 25min, the car was going to be hot and the last thing I needed was a burn. I strolled inside and began working. An hour later a co-worker asked how I was and I said something briefly about my car.
Enter damsel in distress and the attempt of a knight in shining armor, followed not far behind by a rival knight. Who is brave enough to tempt the steam-throwing dragon which is spewing hot chemicals?
The mouth of the beast was pried open and a hiss and a sputter attacked the valiant knights. They tried to sooth the beast with elixir (radiator fluid). Momentarily pacified, they triumphantly went back to work, strutting the whole way.
When it came my time to get her going again, she was furious. Less than five minutes into it, the steam was raging and the engine was roaring. I tried pulling heat from her to alleviate strain to little avail. By the time we got home, we were both so exhausted it was all I could do to reign her in.
What does this all mean?
I drove home when it was 100F outside and I had my heater turned on full blast. Talk about misery. I didn't even have to pay for that sauna treatment, pore-cleansing experience.
Basically, after investigation and a few minor burns (the same ones I had earlier wanted to avoid), I found out that my radiator had a 2" crack in it. This knowledge came to me at 5:30 PM on a Sunday. Guess what isn't open? That's right, repair shops. I had to be at work at 5 AM--not going to happen.
With much investigation and some stress and feeling so little, I managed to find a repair shop close enough not to need a tow that said they could get the work done today. I'm tempted to believe them, though they have yet to prove themselves one way or the other.
Currently I have not a clue as to why my radiator developed a crack, a sizable one at that. Car only has 75k miles on it. Sometimes, things like this just happen.
And my third knight is on his way to take me around my castle so I don't disappoint my village. [he's helping me run invaluable errands].
Chivalry is not dead, though my car might be.

Freedom of religion

A conversation keeps cropping up recently to which no one has an answer and yet everyone has an opinion. It is a question which has very personal impact as well as an international one. Modern in origin, this question fuels heated discussions.

Who is a Jew?

Well, someone who's Jewish. Ok, so who's Jewish? This requires defines what it means to be Jewish. When did this question get so complicated? I know a variety of Jewish people, who proudly call themselves Jewish, and other than the statement, there doesn't exist a common thread.
A person born of an orthodox Jewish mother is Jewish. A person who has an approved conversion is Jewish. What about the rest of us?

Approved conversion: approved by whom? The Israeli Beit Din/Chief Rabbinate is comprised only of middle-aged/retired orthodox men. In 2006, there was a proposal by Shlomo Amar (current Chief Sephardic rabbi), to remove the conversion clause in the Law of Return. By suggesting this, people who convert cannot come to Israel as citizens and would have to go through the arduous process of naturalization.
Law of Return, a side note. Implemented after the creation of Israel to allow those of Jewish descent to obtain Israeli citizenship, simply because they were Jewish. Let the battle begin. Matrilineal descent vs. either; orthodox vs. other; convert vs. bloodline; secular vs. religious. Who can live in Israel as a citizen, who can own land, who can marry and divorce, who can be buried where, and the list goes on.
For ease of discussion then, assume that the question in Israel is not of immediate or personal importance, and the question only applies at home, is it easier to answer then?
Simplistically, yes. Simultaneously, no.

Under the hierarchy of halachah, only conversions as stringent as your own or moreso are recognized. Meaning, a Reform rabbi will recognize a person who converted with a Conservative rabbi. This same person would not be recognized by an Orthodox rabbi. [I am setting the hierarchy as such: Orthodox, Conservative, Reconstruction, Reform, Renewal.]
Those born of a Jewish mother need not question. Those born of a Jewish father have a different story all together. Officially, the orthodox and conservative movements do not recognize patrilineal descent. Reform, Renewal, and Reconstructionist do. The conversion process is necessary for the two former branches.
I find my family to be an interesting case study for me (plus I'm closely tied to the issue here).
My father is born of a Jewish mother, and is therefore Jewish. My mother is not Jewish. So what am I? What is my sister? Are we the same?

Answered personally to reflect a broader ideological view. Since I was a child, I knew I was Jewish. On the very rare occasion pork products would be brought into the house, I would refrain. So would my dad. My sister and mom would enjoy. Growing up in a secular household (that's putting it mildly), and living in a city that is dominated by conservative Christians, I struggled with understanding my place. My sister on the other hand seemed comfortable. I don't believe she ever identified herself as Jewish, certainly not as an adult. At this very moment, I don't believe (I could be wrong), that she would be recognized in the Reform tradition as Jewish. Hypothetically, if she were to ever explore that side of her and then decide that Judaism was the way to go for her, then she would be accepted-no conversion necessary.

I had made the decision years and years ago; acted on it about 3.5yrs ago. I was welcomed with open arms into the community, without question. I am born of patrilineal descent, I say I am a Jew, and I am. My sister is born of patrilineal descent, says she's not a Jew, and is not. Conversion or ex-communication not required.
This then combines the idea of bloodline with spiritual identification, both being required. In America, as a reform Jew, I can then do anything in this movement I want. If I were to choose a different lifestyle and become orthodox, I would have to convert. Bringing back in the Israeli influence, if I wanted to move to Israel, as it stands now, I could under the Law of Return, which still allows for a ¼ bloodline (both my dad’s parents were Jewish). Other life-cycle events would have to be looked at as they occurred, though I believe that I could not marry there, as no orthodox rabbi would perform the ceremony and there is no such thing as a civil ceremony. Marriages originating in other countries are legal and recognized—one of the reasons Israelis travel to Cyprus to marry and then come back. I diverge.

There is much work to be done and not necessarily with the goal of getting answers or hard-line decisions. The goals are of communication, comprehension, cohesion. I will have much more to say on this as time passes.

What I haven’t done here is say how these different definitions impact Jewish relationships. How does another Jew see me? How do I see them? I will save these for another time. For now let me say that I am so thankful that I had the power to choose and the bloodline to support my choice. I feel I have true freedom of religion.