Was this a bad idea?

I've been starting to think that this blog was a bad idea. All the other blogs out there already have an end in mind. Either people start writing once they've officially begun converting to a new religion, or they start after they've joined the new religion, or there are the atheists who explore religion for the sake of mutual understanding and furthering interfaith cooperation. It would seem from the looks of things, that this blog had me going toward converting to Judaism. I love learning about Judaism and doing Jewish stuff, I really do, but how do you really know that you want to be a Jew, forever? Being non-religious and leaving one's parents' religion is so different from changing religions. I'd be going from the high school me who said all religion is bad, outdated, and not for me to a me who, basically, says no, it's just your religion, Mom & Dad, that is not for me. I've read about people converting, not just to Judaism but to Islam and Christianity, and not telling their parents (or waiting until after their parents have passed away... even worse). I can not for the life of me imagine doing this. Unless you have a terrible relationship with your parents and don't talk to them, how can you not be honest about yourself and your life? What if my parents wanted to come visit me one weekend in the fall and they wanted it to be a surprise and it ends up being the High Holidays? What a mess that would be. What if my family one year got crazy and went to church again on Easter and asked me to go? Well, I'd be busy with Passover so that'd be another sticky situation. What if I have a son and my grandparents expect a baptism but end up at a bris? Then there's this whole mess of converting to Judaism: someone somewhere is always going to say you're not a Jew, no matter what you do. The Orthodox will say you're not Jewish if you go Reform or Conservative. But you can't convert Orthodox unless you believe Orthodox things and plan to be Orthodox forever. And if you go Orthodox, you'll have the ultra-orthodox saying you're not a Jew. Granted, most of them are in Israel, but still. And this is a real problem for women since the same problems will be passed onto your children. Oy. When I have children I don't want them to be frustrated like I am. That's why I started looking for new religions in the first place. But now it seems the frustration is inevitable, so why even bother converting?

So the question I'm posing to all of you reading, whoever you are, was there a moment when it all came together for you? Whether or not the religion you chose is Judaism, how were you sure converting was the right thing to do? I just don't imagine it magically falling into place with a sunset telling me it'll all be OK. Did you make a pro-con list? What did it look like? And what did your parents say when you told them?

So this is Christmas...

Today is Christmas. I don't feel much like writing today, but no post on Christmas would undermine the purpose of this blog. Christmas is a religious holiday no matter how the non-religious/agnostic/atheist types want to spin it.

When I was a kid, Christmas was the best thing ever. Presents, santa, no school, and oh, did I mention presents? However, there was always my mom reminding us of "the reason for the season." For us, the Christmas season didn't start the Friday after Thanksgiving; it started the Sunday after Thanksgiving. That is when Advent begins, and we never once got a tree or any other decorations out before Advent was in full swing. We had a manger scene both for the fireplace and one for the yard. Yeah, one of those obnoxious light up sets for the yard. And on Christmas morning, when we'd be sitting in a pile of toys, Mom would tell us to go upstairs and get ready for church. Even if that was a major buzzkill, Christmas morning is an exciting mass. There's flowers everywhere and other decorations and everyone is in a great mood.

Christmas, of course, changed after I figured out there is no Santa Claus. It definitely wasn't as magical and I didn't look forward to it as much. As soon as I was old enough, we no longer went to Christmas morning mass but to Midnight Mass. Apparently me falling asleep for the second half of that mass was better to my family than going on Christmas morning. After confirmation, church became less important in the Christmas scheme. I wasn't exactly a bundle of fun during the Christmas season in high school. As the religious meaning diminished for me, I didn't feel more attached to the secular traditions. My basic thought was, we don't go to church throughout the year, why are we all of a sudden religious at Christmas time? It's not right. I didn't really want to celebrate Christmas any more. It's a stressful time of year and I didn't think it was worth it. What I was demanding of my family, in terms of religion, was all or nothing. I didn't find it appropriate for this wishy-washy half way stuff. I don't know which years I actually went to church on Christmas and which I didn't. I do know that I was always wondering what was the point?

Now that I'm in college, it seems even more complicated. I like coming home for the long break to be with my family. I love that I get to see my brother and his kids. But I still have some of the same complaints as I did in high school. Although now this year, I feel like I can't voice those complaints any more. I can't look for the religious meaning in Christmas anymore, because I know I won't find it. I definitely made out on presents this year. We had two good meals. My mother has been acting strange lately and I think it's because she knows I'm floating in new religious ideas. In fact, I can't help but thinking that that's why she and my dad got me such great presents. They're trying to make up for something. I don't know where they're going with that, and I don't know where I'm going. All I know is that today was a good day, but not because it is Christmas. It was a good day, because I was surrounded by family.

An Orthodox Shabbat

Before this winter's alternative break trip, the most orthodox Jewish experiences I'd had were a couple of nights at the Chabad House on campus. Those were a good time but I didn't really participate in much, besides the eating. My friends and I would get into our own conversations and tune out a lot. When Shabbat arrived last week, all of us were clean and pretty by candle lighting time. We went to the reform synagogue (which I didn't like very much because it reminded me of church... not important) in town then came back to the rabbi's house for a traditional shabbat dinner. We began by singing Shalom Aleichem (except we skipped the last verse because of the rabbi's personal minhag (custom)), and then we all lined up for the ritual washing of hands before a meal. Since there is no talking allowed between that blessing and eating, we all hummed and dummed a niggun (melody that has no words) while we waited for everyone to finish. After Motzi and Kiddush we could eat, drink, and talk again and we had a lovely Shabbat dinner. There were about 16 people there so it was a grand time. We talked in smaller groups and all across the table with the conversation interspersed with songs. There's something about the Shabbat table that lets you get to know people in a unique way.

After dinner ended, we cleaned up a little. Most of us lingered in the house either starting up new conversations or continuing ones from dinner. Two of my friends from the trip and I got into a very interesting conversation with the rabbi. I know the relationships between the different movements in Judaism are complicated and I don't presume to judge, but occasionally I and my Reform friends will get the sense that the Orthodox don't think their (Reform Jews) Judaism is as good or as valid. So, I think my two friends that night were a little guarded at first when talking to the rabbi. It's understandable. But about three minutes into the conversation the walls came down because the rabbi's concern was whether Reform Judaism helped them connect to G-d. He is cool with the different kinds of Jews and Judaism there are.

What I loved most about talking to this rabbi was that he talked about G-d in mathematical terms. He has some sort of math undergrad degree so he knows his stuff. The thing he said that is missing from secular or humanist ethics is the value of human life. Since we are all made in the image of G-d and G-d is infinite, we also are infinite. Said mathematically, every subset of an infinite set is also infinite. So if each of us is a subset of G-d (hence the made in the image of) then each of us is a subset of infinity. Therefore, each of us is "infinite." The value of a human life can not be measured. This sentiment is conveyed in the Talmud but not by this mathematical proof. The reason I had such a hard time understanding G-d in high school was because I couldn't figure out Christianity and math at the same time. This rabbi's proof is a perfect example of the kind of thinking I went through to get to where I am in my understanding/belief in G-d.

Another great part of our conversation with the rabbi was how he talked to me. Earlier in the day he learned for the first time all week that I'm not Jewish. He asked me a simple yet complicated question. "What's your journey?" he said, "How did you go from a Catholic childhood to having dinner in the Orthodox rabbi's house?" He just wanted to talk to these young people about life, G-d, Torah, and Judaism, including me. I never felt included like that by the rabbis at school. I gave him a quick overview of basically this entire blog. And he asked us all how Hillel and Judaism affect each of us. The best answer I could give was that I love Friday night services because I can pray on a regular basis in a safe space. When I went to church, for my whole life, I prayed to G-d, just G-d, and everyone around me was praying to Jesus. I knew it and I felt kind of like a fraud. I wasn't doing what you're supposed to at church. But now when I go to Hillel, I'm doing the same thing as everyone else, of course in my own way. As with everything else, the rabbi said if it makes you a better person and connects you to G-d, then it's doing its job.

One final nugget of inspiration I took away was his view of Torah. He said that what separates him from other Orthodox Jews, particularly the ultra-orthodox, is that he doesn't just think that Jews have something to teach the world about Torah, he thinks that the world has something to teach Jews about Torah.

When we closed the night, the rabbi thanked us for sitting with him and talking to him about G-d because not many people are willing to do that. I thanked him for doing the same. The next morning at services, he gave me something no one else has been able to: permission to kiss the Torah. None of my friends knew if a non-Jew was allowed and I wasn't about to disrespect the Torah by doing it anyways. If an Orthodox rabbi says it's OK, then it must be OK. He has no idea that he'd truly given me the most amazing and memorable Shabbats, probably of my whole life. I know I'll never forget any of it.

Keeping Kosher

So the reason that I didn't blog for almost a month is that 1) I'm in college and we had end of quarter projects and finals going on and 2) right after finals, I went on an alternative break trip. Alternative break is basically a community service trip. I went with my school's Hillel group to do tornado relief work.

We stayed in an orthodox synagogue and had to keep kosher for the week. I'm pretty familiar with kashrut and all, but it was freaking hard. It wasn't hard in the sense that I didn't understand the rules and kept breaking them or anything. It was hard in the sense that from the moment we had to start keeping kosher, I wanted everything that was not kosher. The first night we had spaghetti... and meat sauce. I am the queen of putting parmesan cheese on my spaghetti but I couldn't have any! One day one of my friends and I went with the group leader to do the grocery shopping. We really wanted to have cake or something for dessert to have after another meat meal. It took quite a while to find parve chocolate cake mix and parve frosting. Then we had to find kosher eggs and some more kosher snacks for lunch the next two days. And we couldn't just find any kosher symbol; the rabbi doesn't accept triangle K so we had to weed those foods out as well. Basically, kosher grocery shopping takes three times as long as normal grocery shopping.

Now, obviously Friday night meals at Hillel are kosher. But I'm not the one preparing the meal and I don't actually keep kosher so I don't really have to think that much about it. I have a lot of respect for the people who keep strict kosher, and honestly I haven't met very many people who do. I have friends who keep "kosher-like" in that they don't eat pork or shellfish, but on everything else they eat just like I do. According to the rabbi on our break, keeping kosher isn't hard for him and his family because "they have to do it." Being orthodox and all, he views the Torah as completely binding so he doesn't see a choice in the matter. But I still think it would be a challenge. You have to think far in advance about what you're going to cook and eat and have to make sure that all your meat stuff stays away from the dairy stuff. If you mess up, you could potentially have to re-kasher everything in your kitchen. Those are some high stakes.

I can definitely see the religiosity of keeping kosher, too. You have to constantly keep the rules of kashrut at the forefront of your mind and when you get frustrated by it and think "WHY am I doing this?" you'll kind of remember it's because G-d said so. You eat at least three times a day, so at least three times a day you'll by thinking about how your actions are commanded by G-d. That's gonna cause you to be way more in touch with G-d than going to church for an hour each week.

I'm really glad that I got to go on this trip and have the super Jewish experience of keeping kosher. I imagine there are a lot of people who consider and actually do convert to Judaism who don't get to have an intensive experience like that. I know I'm lucky to have that experience and I learned a lot. But as soon as I got home, I had some breakfast with a side of bacon.

The High Holidays: Yom Kippur

Yom Kippur. The Day of Atonement. The single most holy day in the Jewish calendar. What a day. Before Yom Kippur begins, Jews must apologize and seek forgiveness from other people for any sins they may have committed against them. Then on Yom Kippur, Jews seek forgiveness from G-d. No eating, no drinking, no showering, no leather shoes, no cologne or perfume, and no sex. People wear white to symbolize purity and becoming like the angels (because angels don't need any of the material things from which Jews abstain on this day). It's the day on which G-d seals His judgements in the Book of Life and the Book of Death. It's serious business.

I figured if I was going to participate in this day, I needed to really do it right and give it the respect it deserves. So, while I didn't turn my phone off and become perfectly observant, I did my best to abstain from material things in order to atone for my sins. It's a heavy burden and it makes you realize why it takes so long to become a Jew. I showered in the late afternoon right before leaving for Hillel; I put on a white dress and a white sweater and walked to Hillel (vs. driving there like I did on Rosh HaShanah). I actually made a friend on my walk to Hillel because the guy knew a girl walking down the street in all white after Labor Day had to be observing Yom Kippur. But I digress. I drank a lot of water and ate a lot of fruit during the entire 24 hours before the sun set to ease the fast period. When I was at home during the YK hours, I didn't use my computer or watch TV. As for my phone, I used it, but mostly to talk to my Jewish friends who were also weak from fasting...

After we'd all stuffed ourselves as much as possible during the pre-fast meal, we broke off into our respective Reform and Conservative services for Kol Nidre. According to Reuven Hammer, Kol Nidre is the most important service of the year: if a Jew attends only one service throughout the year, it is Kol Nidre. The Kol Nidre prayer cancels all vows for the year and is done when it is still light out. Then the evening service for Yom Kippur begins once the sun has set. The ma'ariv service contains many of the prayers I am familiar with but they had tons of additions and changes unique to YK. The Ashamnu and the Al het are the two big prayers for YK because they are confessional prayers. The Ashamnu is considered the lesser confession whereas the Al het is considered the great confession. People beat their fist against their chest during each verse of the Al het to symbolize contrition. [[For anyone who has never been to High Holy Day services and wants to attend next year, or any year, you should study up in advance. If I hadn't read Entering the High Holy Days, I would have been very confused by what was going on in this and the other YK services along with not being able to participate in or appreciate what I was experiencing.]]

The next morning I woke up (no coffee!) and schlepped myself back to Hillel for a few more hours. (For my thoughts on the Torah service, see the previous post.) When I returned to my apartment, I laid in bed and read Torah and just reflected on my life and the day. Then one final trip back to Hillel. I won't lie to you: paying attention in that final Ne'ilah service that evening was incredibly difficult. I was unbelievably thirsty.. and hungry.. but mostly thirsty. It didn't help that the rabbis started us late so that "we wouldn't be standing around staring at the food waiting to break fast" which subsequently lead to us going ten minutes past break fast. And on top of that, we were in a room which has giant windows looking at the cafe, so we could see the chef preparing all the food. But anyways, we made it and we felt great after.

Before this Yom Kippur, I'd never really fasted. It was hard. In junior high school, we were encouraged to do a mini-fast on days like Good Friday, but my mom wouldn't let me. She was always so worried about my food consumption that on fast days she made sure I ate more than I actually wanted. Besides that, a fast day in the Catholic Church is currently defined as a main meal and two smaller meals. Erm, does that sound like a regular day of eating to anyone? So fasting as I grew up is nothing like Yom Kippur fasting. But every time my stomach growled or I craved an oreo, I was reminded of what I was really doing and why I was doing it. The hardest part, actually, was not having water. I take medicine daily for chronic headaches and it causes dry mouth so I had a particularly difficult time abstaining from water. I still brushed my teeth and took my medicine, so I wasn't completely void of water. Water never tasted so good as it did that break fast.

Coming out of Yom Kippur, I truly felt as though I'd grown as a person and grown closer to G-d. Sometimes, when I get really, really thirsty, I am reminded of Yom Kippur. Thus, I am reminded that I am made in the image of G-d and need to live as such.

The High Holidays: Torah Services

The High Holidays were the first time I was a part of a Torah service. Before them, I had only attended Friday night services. It was amazing to be a part of these services. The way that people honor and respect the Torah scrolls is unlike anything I've seen. I was probably missing something growing up, but I never felt awe like that in church. Seeing my friends called up to the Torah to make the blessings was awesome. They knew just what to do. Some of them didn't even need to look in the prayer book for what to say. It was almost instinctive. For people who didn't know exactly what was going on, like me, one of the rabbis noted quietly at one point, "You always do what the Torah does: the Torah stands, you stand; the Torah sits, you sit." The ceremony for reading Torah aloud is quite elaborate. During those services I saw Judaism come to life in a new way. I don't have much else to say except that it was beautiful.

The High Holidays: Rosh HaShanah

Two years ago, I wouldn't have been able to tell you what the High Holidays were. I've known since junior high or late elementary school that Yom Kippur is the Day of Atonement and it occurs in the fall - it was always printed in our school planners. Probably in high school is when either the planners started adding in more holidays or I just started noticing Rosh HaShanah. I had no idea that they were not only a pair of holy days, but thee holy days in Judaism. All of last summer I spent at home with my parents and I was pretty freakin' bored. I read a lot. Thus, I read a lot on these upcoming holidays. I didn't really plan on celebrating them. But since school is in session over Rosh HaShanah and Yom Kippur, Hillel provides the food and services without the high ticket prices to students. A lot of my friends stayed for the holidays, so I celebrated with them. It was a pretty exciting time.

It all started with apples and honey at the student union the day before Rosh HaShanah began. Who knew that honey complements apples so well? Then we had Rosh HaShanah dinner the next night at Hillel. People were dressed to impress and there were tons of people there who I'd never seen before (I know now these people to be "High Holiday Jews"). Everyone was wishing their friends "Shana tova" and the atmosphere was warm and welcoming. We ate circular challot to represent another cycle of a year beginning again and we poured honey on everything. Sure, some people were normal and limited it to their challah and dessert, but the kid I sat next to and I enjoyed honey on the chicken, too. After dinner, we split off into our respective Reform and Conservative ma'ariv services.

Most of my friends are Reform or prefer Reform Hillel services, so I of course went to the Reform service. It was such an incredible experience. We used a different book (duh) that only had Hebrew and English (i.e. no transliterations). I was surprised at how many things I could manage from memory. At least 75% of what's in a normal service I was able to remember. I wasn't prepared in advance for Avinu Malkeinu, but it was beautiful to listen to.

The rabbi made a few insightful comments that really stuck with me. First, she said that what is great about Judaism is that a new day or a new year doesn't begin when the clock strikes a specific time. A new day, and thus the new year, is determined by the setting of the sun but the sun doesn't just all of a sudden go down. The setting of the sun is a gradual process and so one day blends into another and one year blends into another. We can see the change happening if we step outside or look out the window. Second, she said we should look out at the night sky when we left the service. We wouldn't see the moon because a new month and the new year begin on a new moon, which means no moon. It's like we are literally beginning the new year with a clean slate. I really appreciated these thoughts because I can understand the metaphors and analogies and can relate to them.

A senior student gave a d'var Torah in the middle of the service. I am always surprised at how moved I am by students' d'var's. I know we go to an exceptional college and all, but you just don't think about college students being so insightful when it comes to G-d and religion. So much of what I hear from students is on par with what I hear from rabbis. It's incredible. By now, though, I am used to it. The guy talked about teshuvah (repentance) in terms of coming back to G-d. He said he'd grown so much as a person and in understanding G-d during his college years and that he hoped everyone in the room was taking the time to do the same. He talked about the power of the sound of the shofar. And I can tell you that he was being completely truthful when he said it wakes you up. I wasn't expecting it, even though he said it over and over.

The shofar was truly amazing. The sound reverberates within you. If you've heard it, you know what I mean. If you haven't heard it, you should. It literally and physically awakens you. And after hearing it, you're ready to go out into the world and be a better person.

The Survivor

For most Jews, listening to a Holocaust survivor tell his or her story is probably a pretty common thing. For non-Jews though, it is a much rarer occurrence. Honestly, growing up in a small town and all, I never thought I would hear from a survivor in person. But in just the last year, I have been lucky enough to hear four different survivor accounts. Each of these survivor experiences was special and meaningful to me in its own way, but for the purpose of this blog, one stands out more than all the others.

Going to listen to this survivor talk was just one of several events I attended during Hillel's Holocaust Awareness Week last spring. Since the event was at Hillel, not very many non-Jews knew about it or attended. In fact, I may have been the only non-Jew there. The speaker assumed everyone there was Jewish, which is why it was one of the most authentic Jewish experiences I've had so far.

So the speaker gave his spiel of his life then sort of went off on this tangent (he's 91, what else do ya expect?). First, he started talking about how everyone in the room, as Jews, needs to embrace everyone else. How we shouldn't hold any grudge against anyone of a particular religion, even if in the past people of that same religion had persecuted Jews. We shouldn't hate because that's bad for the soul and bad for the world. I'd heard similar sentiments at other times at Hillel and whatnot, but this was different. Not to say that I think the Jews I'd been around were lying to me or anything, but everyone always knows I'm not Jewish so I couldn't always know for certain that everyone was being 100% themselves. You never know with people; you never know if they're pretending or putting on a show, and that's pretty cynical of me, I know. But in this moment with this wonderful, incredible man was a truly, authentically Jewish moment. He was just talking to this group of young Jewish adults telling them their responsibilities as Jews to be loving and kind to everyone of every race, religion, or nationality. I felt touched to experience that with all of these young Jews and felt inspired to take his words to heart and apply them in my own life.

Then, he started talking about how Jews need to embrace anyone who wants to join the tribe. A couple people glanced at me, and yeah, I felt awkward for a moment. He told us that you don't need to be born Jewish to "be one of us." He reminded us that Abraham and Sarah weren't born Jewish and that they were pretty old when they became Jews. Anyone can join the tribe at any time. And as he went on with this tangent, he was looking at the rabbi, who was sitting right behind me, so it was pretty much like he was looking at me. He then went on to say, we have a Catholic girl right now at our synagogue who converted and now she is up at the front leading in prayers. I definitely froze when he started to say "we have a Catholic girl;" I thought for sure someone had told him I was there and my background. Then when I realized that wasn't the case, it was just so eerie that he brought up an example that was so close to my background.

The truth is, the survivor had no idea who I am or what I was doing at Hillel, but it was like he was talking directly to me that whole time. His words made me much more comfortable about attending Hillel Shabbat services and dinner and about hanging out with Jews on a regular basis. I still have no idea if I will ever convert to Judaism... there is an incredible number of issues and concerns to consider... but when I think of this survivor's words, I definitely lean in that direction.

Judaism

When I first realized Judaism might have a little bit of room for me, I sat around and considered this religion from my limited and fairly ignorant perspective. Yeah, Jews have some fun and interesting holidays and they tend to involve great meals. But fun and food does not a religion make. Today, I know that there are countless things that make Judaism great. Last year, I didn't know half of them. So this post is about the few ideas that I came up with that made me say, OK I'm really going to investigate what Judaism has to offer.

Why are there so many Jewish doctors? No, this isn't turning into an antisemitic rant, I promise. But there are lots of Jewish doctors, professors, non-profit workers, and on and on. I just couldn't help but think that there must be something in Judaism that makes people reach for greatness. That might sound a little cliche. But is it a fluke? Judaism's focus on study, learning, repairing the world, and individual responsibility must have something to do with the professions that Jews pursue.

The name Israel means to wrestle with G-d. Each person has to figure out G-d for him/herself. And the point is to ask questions! I can't tell you how often I've thought and how often I've read from other people that it is such a relief to come into Judaism and be able to argue with the Rabbi. You can't argue with a priest. You can hardly ask questions of a priest... rephrasing a question does not count as a new question, just a repetition of the original. Basically, I just love asking questions and learning, whether it's in the classroom or just learning about a person's life. I don't understand how people could go through life without asking questions of everything. I've been told by a few people that I think way more than other people and my brain never mellows out.... not a bad thing in Judaism.

There are no roadblocks in getting to G-d. You pray straight to G-d all the time, every time. This is not a slight to Christianity, but I don't understand praying to saints. Well, the argument that you pray just so saints will help you out because they're closer to G-d, is somewhat logical. But I don't believe that there are saints hanging out in heaven with G-d, so that doesn't really work for me (see the afterlife). I just want to communicate with G-d directly, that's all. Also, there are no intermediaries between people and G-d in Judaism. Rabbis are teachers and the only one who can forgive sins is G-d, Himself.

Judaism doesn't hinge on miracles. Yes, there are miracles in the Torah and in holiday narratives. But if you take those away, the religion still stands. Maybe Moses didn't physically part the Red Sea like in the movies, but he still led the freed Hebrews out of Egypt and across a body of water. And even these miracles are more practical, if that can be said of a miracle. They're small and are much like the kind of miracle I believe my aunt's life to be (see Mary). Oil lasting for eight days instead of one is a little easier for me to believe in than say, Immaculate Conception. And if you happen to find a miracle you just can't believe in, there's still plenty to work with in Judaism to help you grow as a person and in your relationship with G-d.

Hinduism is to Krishna as Buddhism is to the Buddha as Christianity is to Jesus as Islam is to Mohammed as Judaism is to ....? Moses? But Moses isn't the only major prophet in Judaism. And wasn't the Torah given to the Children of Israel, i.e the Jewish People? The analogy doesn't work, and for a reason. Judaism truly is about a people, rather than a person. Following in the footsteps of Krishna, Buddha, Jesus, or Mohammed is totally cool. As long as it makes you a good person, I have no problem with that. But for me, I have a hard time only being able to look to one person who lived way back in day for an example.

Jews don't say "Cheers!" they say "L'Chaim!" which means to life! And I absolutely adore this seemingly small phrase. Jews and Judaism are concerned with this life and with living it to its fullest. In Judaism, you don't really do good works so you can get into heaven. You do good works because you should. I do the right thing because it's the right thing to do. Like I've said before, I believe this life is all there is, and I love life and so do Jews.

Finally, Judaism and science are completely, 100%, compatible. Thus, there's no choosing between religion and science, G-d and fact.

Tikkun Olam

About 6 or 8 months ago I learned this phrase, tikkun olam. It's Hebrew for perfect or repair the world and the idea is a huge tradition in Judaism. The phrase is new, but the idea is not. When you're a little kid, you learn that there are poor people in the world. So around Thanksgiving and Christmas when your school does their annual canned foods drive, you take cans from your mom's cupboard to donate. And maybe in the spring your school collects coins to give to some charity or another and you ask your dad for some of the coins in his change cup. You're worried about the people who don't sleep in a house or can't buy a winter coat. One day you realize, there are too many people in need, how can your 5 dollars in change possibly make a difference.

For me, even though I realized I could never help all the people in need I still felt obligated to help. I thought about what the world would be like if I didn't help, and what it would be like if the churches stopped caring, and what it would be like if Mother Theresa didn't devote her life to service. The world would be a worse place.  I knew from a young age that everyone has a responsibility to do whatever they can to help, because what is the alternative? Let the world slowly decline until everything is destroyed? Every time I learned about a new problem in the world, I would think "I have to do something! Someone has to do something!" I couldn't wait to get older so I could do something, I would get a job and give my money or get a job that was a life of service, then I could fix things. Sometime in junior high, I realized that I don't need to be an adult to help make things better. I started tutoring in junior high and did random service projects through my school. In high school, I was involved in more service groups and activities than just about anyone else in my school. Yeah, I was that girl who did everything on top of getting good grades. But I didn't see any alternative. I have the time and ability to help so why wouldn't I? It'd be selfish not to.

When I was 16, I made the decision to become a teacher. I made this decision in an instant, and I've never regretted it. For the next three years, so many people I went to school with told me how stupid it was to become a teacher. They said I was too smart to be a teacher. I should be a doctor or a lawyer, or anything that could make me some money. What a waste, they said, it was for me to "just be a teacher." How could anyone think that it's possible to be "just a teacher" and that it's not a noble profession? Teachers do so much for their students, and most of those students never appreciate it. People never realize how different their lives would be without each of their teachers. Everyone has at least one teacher who inspires them and challenges them to do more, to be more. And then they go out and affect other people, inspiring them to do more and to be more. They help someone and then that person helps someone else. The effects are endless, and most people never think about that. I want to be that person for a student or two.

While there are still a lot of people out there who think my career path is an easy way out, a less than noble profession, and that the service I've done in high school and continue to do in college doesn't make a difference, Judaism does not teach this. Judaism teaches that each person has a responsibility in the world, and that each generation must make the world a better place for the next generation. And Judaism places a special emphasis on education in order to do this. This oldest extant religion teaches that if you only know alef, bet, then you must teach bet to someone who only knows alef. For those of you not familiar with Hebrew, this teaching is simply about learning the alphabet: if you only know A and B, then teach B to someone who only knows A. Everyone has a responsibility and an obligation to pass on their knowledge so that the next person or next generation can ride on their shoulders and continue to improve the world. 

I'm studying to be a math teacher. I don't by any means love mathematics. But math is truly vital to functioning and succeeding in this world, and for so long I took my math education for granted. I have the ability to teach math in a way that others understand it, so I have a responsibility to become a mathematics educator. And along the way, I'll hopefully be able to inspire some kids to change the world in small but meaningful ways. And Judaism understands that, respects that, and encourages that.

Shortly after I started hanging out at Hillel on Friday nights, someone told me I should join Hillel's community service group, called Starfish. I immediately knew why it was called Starfish, I'd read the story somewhere long ago. If you don't know it, here it is:

The Starfish Story
Original Story by: Loren Eisley

One day a man was walking along the beach when he noticed a boy picking something up and gently throwing it into the ocean. 

Approaching the boy, he asked, “What are you doing?”

The youth replied, “Throwing starfish back into the ocean. The surf is up and the tide is going out. If I don’t throw them back, they’ll die.”

“Son,” the man said, “don’t you realize there are miles and miles of beach and hundreds of starfish? You can’t make a difference!” 

After listening politely, the boy bent down, picked up another starfish, and threw it back into the surf. Then, smiling at the man, he said…”I made a difference for that one.”

I joined this group without hesitation because it embodies everything I grew up believing about service to the world. My Jewish friends also believe in doing what you can to help others, and not one of them has ever told me that I should try to be more than just a teacher.

My Mother

How cliche will it be if I tell you that I love my mom more than anyone in the world? Don't care. I do. She's given me everything, has made unbelievable sacrifices, and loves me even when I push her away. But why does any of this matter to this blog? Well, she's my mother so obviously she had something to do with my religious education.

She and my dad enrolled me in public schools from the start so I had only one hour of religious education a week during the school year. For a lot of parents, if they choose this route they spend a few hours each week at home with their children teaching them about their religion. My parents didn't do that, thank G-d. Instead, my mother spent a lot of time outside with me. She loves to garden, so we spent hours and hours during the spring, summer and fall, digging up the soil, occasionally cutting earth worms in half, accidentally of course, planting flowers, watching birds and butterflies, catching frogs and the like. I was one of those kids who asked why about everything. Why is the sky blue? Why are some clouds more fluffy than others? How are some flowers pink and some yellow? My mom's a smart lady but she's not a scientist. So when she ran out of answers, she'd simply say because G-d made it that way. When science couldn't take us any further, we found G-d. But she never implied to me that the way things work didn't matter because G-d created everything perfectly. Science and G-d always seemed to go hand-in-hand.

When we weren't outside, we would paint or draw at the dinning room table. Being able to illustrate the way I see the world has always been important to me. My mother read to me everyday, until I was old enough to start reading to her. When I wanted to know something, she taught me how to look it up in the encyclopedia. Inquiry was a big part of my childhood.

My mom never taught me about original sin, or many other of those big hallmarks of Christianity. In fact, for the longest time, I thought that original sin just meant having sex because "the Virgin Mary was without original sin." It makes sense, right? And she definitely never taught me that only Catholics go to heaven and that non-Catholics go to hell. She always taught me that being a good person and doing your best in life was all that mattered when it came to the afterlife.

I don't know how my mom sees herself religiously anymore. But I do know that she's not sorry she sent me to CCD and took me to church. She told me that it's important to have a framework, i.e. religious tradition, in which to teach your children about G-d. Even though she feels a lot of the same frustrations with the Church as I do, she's not sorry she made her children a part of it. And I'm not either. I'm glad she cared enough to do that for me. As a teenager and adult, I haven't wanted to be a part of the Church. But at least as a child I was a part of something. I had structure and some meaning in my little life. I belonged somewhere.

When I think about my friend's funeral in the eighth grade, I feel a huge appreciation to my parents for putting me somewhere. Some of the prayers and songs in the service were printed in the program guide for his funeral. But some of the service was just from the standard church service. The friend who I went with is not religious at all. She might have been baptized, but her religious association didn't go further than that. So we get to part of the service when the congregation says the "Our Father." We're all saying this prayer, and my friend leans over to me and asks, "How do you know this?" She was looking for the words in the program packet. I told her that it's the same prayer we said at my church. Then she looks over and sees her mom saying it. She asks her mom how she knows it and she replies "I went to Catholic school growing up." Her mom said it with such a "DUH" tone. Then my friend just sat back in her seat and looked quite confused. She obviously felt very left out. She'd only been to church a few times in her life but most of her friends were being confirmed that year. In that moment I was so glad that I belonged to something, even if I didn't quite know what that was. And for this I have my parents, my mother, to thank.

Someday, I'll have my own kids, and I want them to feel like they belong somewhere. I want them to belong somewhere. I just can't make them a part of an institution I don't believe in. I can't teach them ideas I don't believe, many of which I don't even agree with their basic premise. That's at least partly why I'm on this journey I'm on: I want something more meaningful for my kids. I don't want them to grow up to find out that they don't agree with and can't bear to be apart of the Church, or a church, or whatever. I want them to have a lasting tradition.

When I told my mom a long time ago that I thought I wanted to leave the Church, she didn't object. She asked me if I wanted to write a letter to the bishop. A letter like that would be officially leaving the church with no possibility of ever returning. I couldn't believe she suggested it, but I think she knows the pain I feel when I think about my name being on the Church's roster. As long my name is still on their list, it in someway gives my approval to their actions. I just don't want to hurt anyone. I don't want to hurt my grandpa or my brother or my niece. One day I'll have to actually deal with these things, but at least my mother understands.

Relating to Christianity

Sometimes, you do things without realizing what you're doing. A while back, about the time I started going to Hillel, my best friend from home asked me what exactly I'm doing. She asked, "Are you trying to find G-d? yourself? what?" I couldn't really give her an exact answer. I don't need to "find" G-d; I figured out He's real years ago. I don't need to find myself, I already know who I am. Later, I came up with a better, more concrete answer: I'm trying to figure out who everyone else is, and how I fit into that. One thing she and I never talked about, though, was the religion I've left.

A week or two ago, I realized that much of the last three years have been about figuring out Christianity and how I relate to it. In some way, I will always have a relationship with Christianity: I grew up celebrating Christian holidays, nearly all of my family members are some kind of Christian, and I have Christian friends.

I'm finally to a point in my life in which I can accept Christianity as a valid religious tradition that can make people's lives better, it's just not mine. Figuring out Christianity is something I had to do, because if I kept on relating to it the way I did in high school, I would probably lose a lot of friends and sever ties with my family. In high school, I thought of Christianity as out-dated and ridiculous for the ways it conflicts with science. I thought of kids who still went to church as either ignorant or not in control of their own lives. I just wanted everyone to wake up! But I am the one who needed to wake up. You can be a Christian and an intelligent person. You can be a Christian without giving up science. It's just taken me a long time to see that.

The one thing that is most difficult for me, and that I still haven't fully figured out, is how to relate to the Catholic Church. There is so much to criticize in the way the Church operates. I don't need to list them here; if you read the news, or really if you've not been living under a rock your whole life, you know what there is to be critical of. It's taken a lot of time and effort, but I've figured out that I have to distinguish between the Catholic faith and the Catholic Church. In certain areas, this gets messy and might not even be possible to do. But if I don't try to make that distinction, I won't be able to be friends with my roommate or to get a long with my dad's side of the family. Like my dad has said, you don't have to agree with everything the Church does to be Catholic. I just read a Pew survey that supports his claim.

I probably won't ever totally get over my problems with the Catholic Church. The problems don't just exist in the history of the Church, they continue every day and I don't believe they'll be resolved. The Catholic Church is the one thing that I believe can't be changed. It's sad to say but I really think it's true. The Church is deeply rooted in tradition and they eliminate anyone who tries to alter that tradition, even if the change is going in a direction to stay on par with the rest of society. The Church is too complicated and has so much money that changes that my liberal mind hopes for will never happen.

Mary

In an earlier post, I explained how I came to be sure of G-d's existence, but I left out a few points. After my brother's military experience, the biggest factor comes from my aunt with whom I share a name. My aunt and our name are important here. You'll see why.

My Aunt Mary is living proof of G-d. (Now you know my first name, but I'll be keeping my last to myself, at least for now.) When she was two years old, she was diagnosed with Cystic fibrosis (CF for short). This was about fifty years ago so this diagnosis was basically a death sentence. Even today, doctors inform parents of kids with CF that their life expectancy is 30 years old. So the doctors told my grandparents that she would die in the next ten years. When she made it to 10, the doctors said she wouldn't make it out of her teens. When she did, they said she wouldn't ever get married or have kids. Not only did she get married, she's seen both of her children get married, and has already welcomed one grandchild into this world. As if this terrible disease wasn't enough, she also has diabetes. CF requires one specific diet and diabetes requires another. She also has an insulin pump. Between these two diseases, she is in the hospital a lot. There's more...

My freshman year of college, Aunt Mary was diagnosed with colon cancer. She underwent surgery the day before my twentieth birthday. A large part of her colon was removed and she had to get an ileoscopy bag.  By the end of the summer, she had started chemo. When I saw her at Christmas, her hair was thinning and they had a bed set up for her downstairs so she didn't have to battle the stairs. The following spring, she had a second surgery to get rid of the ileoscopy bag and reconnect her colon. As of the writing of this post, she is in remission. She's not out of the woods yet, but she has survived thus far. And she's survived a hell of a lot. The statistics have this woman dead by now. She is alive by G-d's good grace. How can anyone who knows her history deny G-d's existence? Certainly, not I.

Besides acknowledging that her life is something miraculous, I am inspired by my aunt's own faith. When lots of bad things happen to people, they are quick to dismiss G-d, saying that if G-d existed then all those bad things wouldn't have happened. But for my aunt, all of these things she has battled against and happily so. Most people would understandably be disgusted by having to have an ileoscopy bag, but my aunt just said "Well if that's what I have to do to live, then I guess I have to do it." She prays to G-d and goes to church. She always brings her Bible with her into the hospital. She doesn't know why G-d's kept her alive, but she's glad He has. Even though our conceptions of G-d are different, it is still inspiring.

It is not uncommon to identify with the people with whom you share a name. I have known and experienced my aunt's story for my entire life. Of all my aunts and uncles, I was always most concerned with her and her life because I had her name. To some people, my name is just a generic Christian name. But my mother named me after her own mother and her sister. My mom considered some random baby-book names, but ultimately she chose a name with deeper meaning for her and a deeper meaning for me.

Other kids have always picked on me for my name - don't get me wrong, I know way worse things could have happened to me, but that doesn't mean getting teased didn't hurt. At my Christian preschool kids sang "Mary had a little lamb" at me all the time. There was also the rhyme "Mary, Mary Quite Contrary." When I was in CCD, everyone snickered any time the Virgin Mary was mentioned. That happened for all 8 years; no one ever matured. In high school I always got the totally respectful and not at all private question, "Mary, are you a virgin? Are you Virgin Mary?" At times in my life, I really hated getting teased and I resented the kids who did it. I wanted to change my name - I even went so far as to pick out a new one. I chose Sarah, but my parents wouldn't comply and call me by it. Eventually, I got over it, though, and became very proud of my name.

I wouldn't be who I am or where I am, if my name were anything else. I would never really change my name. I am quite honored to be named after my aunt who is a wonderful human being, is an inspiration, and is very proof of G-d's existence.

Evil Trickster?

So a while back I was hanging out fairly often with this guy who I met at Hillel. People I've met there have been fairly fascinated by me and like to tell me about their own experiences with Judaism and to talk about the specifics of what they believe. One day we were sitting outside and we started to hear the preacher guy who's always on campus going on about some Christian fundamentalist nonsense, and so we got on the subject of Jesus. Go figure.

This guy started to tell me that Jesus practiced some kind of dark magic that is so bad that the Torah doesn't even talk about it that much and that there used to be a lot of books about this magic but they've disappeared because the rabbis outlawed them. This magic could enable people to walk on water and turn water into wine. Do those miracles sound familiar?

Basically, this guy told me that he actually believes that Jesus performed all those various miracles but that he did it through dark, illegal magic. I'd never heard anything like that, and just said "Oh. Interesting." Later that night I started to feel really creeped out by everything he told me and I didn't know why. I tried googling what he said but I couldn't find anything. I didn't know what was going on. Was I personally offended by what he was saying? Was this the night I discovered that I am actually, secretly a Christian and was just temporarily confused?

No. After a good night's sleep, I was able to figure out why I got so upset by this. I don't believe in that kind of magic (magic between two people, yes, but not magic that people literally perform). I have spent a long, long time believing that the stories of Jesus' miracles were fabricated. And I will continue to think that. If Jesus was using dark magic to do those things, that would mean he was tricking people into believing he was the Messiah and/or G-d. And I'm sorry, but I don't want someone telling me that a person I grew up learning about was actually an evil trickster. As a kid I definitely looked up to Jesus. I went to Sunday school and CCD to learn about what a good person he was. And I still believe he was a good person. I believe that his story went through a telephone process and ended up in a completely different form than how it started. I believe he had a good message and that it's still buried under all the miracles and whatnot. There are many good people who've done good things based on Jesus' teachings and parables.

 I just don't believe that Jesus was/is G-d. So if you believe that Jesus was an evil trickster, I really don't want to hear about it.

The Afterlife

You'd think that I would have included this post in my earlier posts about Christianity and why it doesn't suit me... but to be perfectly honest, I don't think about the afterlife that much so it only recently occurred to me. In short, I don't believe in the afterlife, an afterlife, life after death, or whatever other way you want to spin it.

I've heard the argument that there has to be an afterlife, otherwise there is no justice, and G-d is just. This seems logical enough... But why does there have to be justice? The truth is, that we don't really know what G-d does, so we can't definitively say that He pursues justice. Maybe there is justice here and we just don't recognize it. We're measuring justice by our own ruler, not G-d's, so we could be doing it all wrong...

Anyways, my argument is just as logical: if there were another life, why did G-d put us here in this one? Why wouldn't he just stick us in this other life to start with? There is some purpose to our existence in this mortal, physical world.

So, yeah, I do think that when it's over, it's over. My roommate and I discussed this at length not long ago. She is Catholic and totally believes in the afterlife. She said that when her grandpa died, she immediately knew that he was in heaven with her grandma and that she was happy about that. I guess it's great that she has such faith in this idea. But she doesn't really know; she only believes. What I do know, is that her grandpa, and everyone else who's ever died, isn't here.

When I think about people who've died, like my close friend from junior high school, I just think that it really sucks that they aren't here experiencing life. In the spring of eighth grade, my friend died. He had a pacemaker, and essentially, it stopped working. Not only did it stop working, but it stopped working at track practice, which I was at. It was a Tuesday. I was one of the only girls who saw what happened because I was in the pole vault pit next to where the boys were sprinting. It was a terrifying experience. The next day at school, the coaches and EMTs who responded talked to us, and told us he was doing fine. They told us the doctors would be able to fix him. That Friday, his parents pulled his younger brother out of school to come say good bye. I went to his funeral, where teachers and mentors spoke about what a wonderful person he was and the pastor spoke about heaven.

In all the days that have followed his death, I have never once felt comfort in heaven. I never felt that he was with G-d, or Jesus, or his grandparents, or anyone else. I didn't feel relieved that his suffering was over. All I felt was that it sucks that he's not here. And every milestone, big or small, that passed, I thought about how he wasn't experiencing it. He didn't get to start high school with us, or go to homecoming or to prom, or scream with us at football and basketball games, or apply to college, or stress out about what to do with the rest of his life. He didn't get freshmen move in day, or get to choose a major, or change his major 3 or 4 more times. He won't graduate college, or get married, or have kids, or grow old with the love of his life. And that freaking sucks.

I am constantly reminding myself to savor every moment, because the moments will expire eventually. I scrapbook and save the most random things that everyone else discards but I know are important. One day I will look back at a ticket stub or at a random holiday fact card from Hillel and be reminded of what a glorious time I am having. I know that I only have a certain amount of time on earth, and I don't have time to waste. The first time I told my roommate that I don't believe in the afterlife, she responded by saying that that is scary and it makes each day super important. Yes, each day is super important, and I try not to forget that. When I start to complain about my college classes, I remind myself that there are millions of people who don't have the luxury of complaining about that.

I should include that I do believe in the immortal soul. I think that when you die, you soul is at peace and will be at one with G-d. But your soul doesn't go somewhere else to live, it just exists somehow. As a friend helped me figure out, consciousness does not go hand in hand with a soul, so your soul will continue to live without "you" being conscious of it.

I know that I could be wrong. There could be an afterlife. But what happens if you spend your whole life banking on an afterlife and miss out on opportunities because you are always thinking there's more time, and then you die, and nothing happens? If I spend my whole life worried about this world and this life, doing good for people, loving my friends and family, being the best person I can possibly be, thinking that there is no afterlife, then there actually is one, I will be pleasantly surprised. But the person who spent his whole life sure of an afterlife and there isn't one, won't be pleasantly surprised. He won't be surprised at all. He won't be anything. Because his life will be over, and nothing happens after death.

Taking it one religion at a time

When I originally started reading about Judaism online, I also was reading about Islam. There were a few ideas in Islam that spoke to me. So after getting so excited about Shabbat at Hillel, I decided to take the most logical approach to religion: learn about it all. I couldn't risk getting all invested in one religion only to one day discover a new one and change course again. Over the next seven months, I took every opportunity I could to learn about world religions.

I attended a lecture during Discover Islam Week on our campus and subsequently read all 15 or so pamphlets they had at the check in table. I also signed up for a free English translation of the Qur'an and read parts of it. I read about Buddhism online and bought the Dhammapada, The Sayings of the Buddha. I also investigated Hinduism, Taoism, and even Christianity. But wait, didn't I give up on Christianity? Well, I was raised Catholic so I just double checked with the other denominations (Quakers and Presbyterians mostly) - they all pretty much have one unwavering thing in common.

It didn't take long for me to eliminate Hinduism from the list of possibilities: it too closely resembles Christianity. I understand that, like Judaism, Hinduism has an all encompassing cultural aspect. But its theological aspects are nearly identical to those that I've already ruled impossible. A human incarnation of a deity, to me, is not possible.

Of all the other religions, Islam was the most fascinating to learn about. For some reason, this religion seemed so foreign and unaccessible to me. Learning about Islam has challenged me in the ways I think about life, G-d, and the world. I love that Islam is a monotheistic religion in the way that I understand monotheism. But after much reading and discussion with Muslims, I realized that this definitely wasn't my religion. Like Christianity, there are things you have to believe in, otherwise you can't become a Muslim. For example, you have to believe in the afterlife and you have to believe that the Qur'an is the unadulterated word of G-d brought to us by the prophet Muhammad. I believe that the Qur'an has a good message, but I don't believe it's possible for humankind to have the true words of G-d. G-d is not human and does not speak the way that we speak. And most of all, the narration of the Qur'an just doesn't captivate me the way that other texts (religious or otherwise) do. Some will immediately respond to this by saying I have to read it in Arabic! The translation is not the truth! Well, I read the Hebrew Bible in translation and its narrative is still captivating. I know that poetry gets lost in translation, but not all of it.

I stayed interested in Buddhism for several months, until I actually got up the nerve to attend an Intro to Buddhism class. The sayings of the Buddha were so insightful. Ultimately, though, the fact that meditating is the most important aspect of this religion is most unappealing. Also, I wasn't sure what I was supposed to do with G-d. Buddhism is not a god-centered religion. I've read that some Buddhist teachers don't care if you believe in G-d, but they obviously aren't going to address that or teach you anything new about G-d. At that first Intro class, I was most distracted. I couldn't focus on what the teacher was saying, for I did not find it interesting. And a few times, he mentioned ideas and I would think "Well in Judaism they say this...." I resolved not to return to the class and to close the door on Buddhism. I do still like to read the Dhammapada sometimes, but I know that meditation would be impossible for me. My brain is constantly moving and changing direction and I don't want to change that. If I controlled my brain to calm it down, I wouldn't think of half the things I come up with. I would have no more good ideas and would lose my creativity. Without my creativity what am I?

Making sure to cover all the bases, I read a book about atheism. I don't need to say much besides I wasn't convinced. Although, I must admit I don't think I picked a very good book. The author seemed to only care about disproving Christianity, which I don't need done for me.

At some point in the middle of all this, I took this awesome quiz on Beliefnet that ranks your religious beliefs. The questions are pretty intense, not generic at all. Most questions have 6 choices so it's not obvious which religion the answer relates to (most of the time). Anyways, the quiz then ranks how your beliefs match up with 27 different religions. My results were quite interesting. They were: 1. Reform Judaism 100% 2. Liberal Quakers 88% 3. Unitarian Universalism 87% 4. Baha'i Faith 80% 5. Orthodox Judaism 79% ... 27. Roman Catholic 28%.

The results of this quiz made me both happy and sad. On the one hand, I had statistical proof that I fit into Judaism as far as belief. On the other hand, I was raised Catholic and it scored dead last with only 28%? That's really low. I thought I'd score at least 40 or 50%... Nonetheless, I've had to come to terms with the fact that Catholicism is my family's religion due to tradition more than faith.

I actually read about all 27 faiths that this quiz ranked and none stuck out so much as Judaism.

Abraham

So, this post is backtracking a bit, but I thought it was important to include. It's about why, as an adult, I've preferred the "Old Testament" to the New Testament. I mentioned in one of my first posts that I took an English class on the English Bible. We read and analyzed the stories in the Bible as we would any other literary text, so we read without preference to a Christian or a Jewish or a Muslim interpretation. It was pretty cool. Anyways, before I decided to learn anything more about Judaism or any other religion, I took about a month to think and sort out what it is I really believe and how the scriptures I've read (and heard) play into that. I kept coming back to two stories, one from the "Old" and one from the New testament, and comparing them to each other. A lot of people would disagree that I should compare these stories, but it makes since to me.

From what I've read and heard in the New Testament, Jesus knew that he would be crucified and he predicted it to his followers. But that's not what is revealed in the text. In two of the gospels, Matthew and Mark, when Jesus is on the cross he cries out "Eloi, Eloi, lama sabachthani" which is Aramaic for My G-d, my G-d, why have you forsaken (or abandoned, depending on which translation you read) me? The official interpretation of this moment is that Jesus is quoting David, thereby proving his Messiah-ship. No Christian views this as a test of faith. But how can it not be a test of faith? Here this guy is about to die, and he accuses G-d of abandoning him, even though he supposedly knew this would happen. The quoting David explanation is, to be perfectly honest, crap. Anyone could quote David for his Psalms were available scripture. Plus, why didn't Jesus quote something else, anything else? How about "The Lord is my shepherd..."? That would make a lot more sense. If he knew he would be crucified and went to his death willingly, why would Jesus accuse G-d of forsaking or abandoning him? Therefore, Jesus was without faith in his most vulnerable moment.

Then on the other hand, we have Abraham way back in the beginning of the Bible. G-d tells Abraham to sacrifice his favored son, Isaac, to Him. Abraham, though reluctant, takes Isaac up to Mount Moriah to do as G-d says. He was totally about to kill Isaac. He didn't know that G-d was going to stop him at the last minute. Talk about faith. Abraham had faith that G-d knew what was right and ultimately had control over him and what would happen.

So why do I compare this two very different events? Isn't it obvious? Jesus, who knew what would happen, lost faith in G-d. But Abraham, who didn't know what would happen, did have faith in G-d. The Jesus episode is just one of a billion contradictions that exist in the New Testament. From the decent chunk of the "Old Testament" I've read I recognize strong continuity in the text that is not broken like it is in the New.

 I guess I just naturally gravitate toward the stories and lessons in the Hebrew Bible and away from those in the New Testament.

Shabbat Shalom

So after my first Shabbat, I met with one of the Hillel rabbis to tell him what my deal was and, basically, to make sure it was OK for me to come to Hillel. He asked me about my past religious experiences and about G-d, and how He factors into my life. I told him some of what's written in this blog, and as for G-d, I relayed an experience I had in the middle of my freshman year that made me change my major instantly.

 I have been planning to become a teacher since I was 16, but it was always as a high school English teacher. During my freshman year I tutored in an inner-city middle school in English and in Math. Then one winter day, one of the boys, Micah, just looked at me and said "Why don't you come here every day?" And to me, the question wasn't just limited to Micah and his class. The question was "Why don't you teach math every day?" When I got back to campus I went straight to my adviser's office, got a math content worksheet, and I haven't looked back. How can I think that moment, that question, was anything other than a sign from G-d?

The rabbi said "Wow," and nothing else for a minute. I don't know if he was shocked, impressed, or confused, but I felt the conversation change after that. I think he took me a little more seriously after he realized I wasn't kidding about believing in G-d and needing to do something with that belief. But then he said, "Now is a good time to also think about your own religion..." (how typical). That's when I explained to him about my trial period with the college church and so I'd already done that. Besides telling me he doesn't do conversions as a college rabbi, he didn't try to deter me any further. As far as the conversion statement, I was perfectly fine with that. I wasn't ready for any more major changes in my life. Later, he emailed me a list of 3 books on Judaism, which I have read most of each since then. (The books are listed at the bottom of my blog, btw.)

After my conversation with the rabbi, Shabbat just eventually became a part of my life. I got excited for it, I looked forward to it, and I was sad when it ended. I made a new friend (or two) every week at Hillel. Eventually, I found an awesome group of friends there. They teach me about Judaism but that's not all. They're not just my Jewish friends, they're my friends. And I'm so happy to have found them.

Where do I go from here...?

So now what do I do now that I'm finished with the Church? Just go back to being a wandering agnostic/atheist type? Wrong. C'est pas possible. I can't be an atheist after all that wrestling with G-d! That would be nonsensical....

About seven or eight months ago, I was on one of my intense wikipedia sessions (the ones where you start of reading one article and click on the little blue words over and over until you're at a completely unrelated topic. yeah, you know what I'm talking about...), and then all of a sudden I'm at a page about Jewish thoughts on the afterlife. Then I go to another page and another page reading more and more Jewish philosophy, theology, etc. And I'm just taking in so much of this information, thinking to myself, "Damn. That's what I think." It was so surprising to me that so many things that I took months and years to figure out, are already apart of an established religion.

To be perfectly honest, I would have never had considered Judaism as a religion for me because of it's relation to Christianity. I guess I just always thought of them as being so similar. Anyone who knows anything is thinking right now "What a dumby. They're so totally different." Yes, I know this now. But as a teenager who just generally despised organized religion, I didn't consider that Judaism might be completely different in its theology and philosophy from Christianity.

So after many days spending hours and hours reading online about Judaism, I decided I was gonna talk to an expert. That's right. I Facebook-messaged a Jew. He lived in my dorm freshman year and identified himself as a Reform Jew on his profile. And I asked him straight up, "What's the deal with being a Reform Jew?" He explained to me some of the basic differences between Reform and Orthodox Judaism and we talked about some other Jewish ideas. Of course, he then asked me why I was so interested. I told him, "I don't wanna be in my parents religion anymore but I believe in G-d. So I'm figuring something else out." He was impressed by this because, according to him, so many kids "lose religion" if they disagree with their parents. Then he invited me to the Hillel on campus for a Friday night service.

I will never forget my first Shabbat service. It was Reform and even though I had trouble finding the English translations of the Hebrew songs and prayers, I'd never felt more connected. I felt connected across time and across the world to everyone who's ever said those prayers. And I felt connected to G-d, for Hebrew is the language that the Tanakh, which has given religion to 3/4 of the world, is written in. No matter how few people pray in this language today, it has had an unmistakable influence on the world. I've talked to other non-Jews who've visited Hillel and just feel overwhelmed and intimidated by the Hebrew prayer service. I guess that I've just been challenged enough by religion that learning a new language doesn't seem like a big deal.

That first night at Hillel was truly a life changing experience for me. I went back the next week and almost every week after that, until school ended for the year. [I also went to the Chabad house twice, for a very traditional Jewish evening ;) ] I made so many great friends, who upon learning that I'm not Jewish instantly started teaching me whatever it is they feel I need to know at that moment. The great thing about Jews is, they love questions. For once, I don't have to be scared to be confused or just curious.

The G-dmother

I've mentioned that I have a brother, and I've mentioned that he has kids. I failed to mention that when his first child was born, a daughter in 2005, he appointed me as the G-dmother. Way to throw a wrench into an already broken machine. I held that beautiful bundle at her baptism and promised to teach and to show her the ways of a faithful follower of Jesus. Another promise I wasn't sure I could keep.

This wasn't really a problem during high school because she spent most of the time either with her mom and the in-laws or in London with my brother. My brother's in-laws are very religious so my niece went to church with them. I didn't have to worry about doing any of that. I mostly took it upon myself to be invested in her regular education and fostering her creative side (art, dance, etc.). But once my brother finished up his years of service and finally lived in the states continuously, I started to wonder if I shouldn't be more invested in her religious upbringing. After all, I am her G-dmother.

Before I could teach her anything major, I had to learn it myself. So I took it upon myself to really learn what a Christian is and believes. At the end of my senior year I made a promise to myself (and told someone about it to ensure I followed through) that I would learn about religions, so that I would be able to guide my niece as she got older. In college, I learned so much about Christianity, from the difference between a Catholic and a Protestant to taking an English class reading the most influential English translation of the Christian Bible (The KJV). I asked my roommates tons of questions, too. After a while, though, I stopped this, as I grew tired of getting laughed at. I knew that they were thinking all the stuff I was asking about was so basic. I should have learned all that at CCD, or I just shouldn't have been asking.

I even went to church with them for a few months fairly regularly at the campus church. But I knew from the beginning it wouldn't last. Although I automatically crossed my self and genuflected upon entering the pews, I felt so out of place. People at this church were different in so many ways - happy and sincere - but the same in so many. What made them the same as the church back home, really had to do with me. I didn't fit in. Every time we said "peace" to our neighbors, I looked around and felt outside the moment. I didn't feel peace. I just saw everyone saying it to each other.

Even though these situations made me feel sad and out of place, I believe I did the right thing in making an adult effort. I even printed off my own copy of the Nicene Creed and attempted to memorize it. Like in my childhood, I couldn't memorize the prayers because the words weren't written in my heart. I knew them not to be true.

Knowing now that I honestly can't guide my niece in her Catholic faith is upsetting. I can help her with her faith in G-d, but that is about all. I guess I can still offer the stories about Jesus I know from CCD, but I can't explain how it's possible that Jesus was a person and a god. This probably seems a strange thing to do: telling the stories about Jesus but not really believing in their truth. What should I do, though? Tell a six year old what she believes is bogus? As someone wise once said to me, it is better to live a contradiction than a lie.

Celibacy, Gay Marriage, and Secular Societies

This post is just about non-theological issues of why I am not and cannot be Catholic. In regard to the big controversies, I am not on the Church's side. I'll try to keep this brief...

Celibacy. Celibacy is unnatural and it is not divine law. Simple as that. How does it make any sense that an institution that preaches the prime importance of the family doesn't allow its main leaders (priests, bishops, cardinals, popes, monks, and nuns) to have families? Did G-d not say, "Be fruitful and multiply"? Celibacy didn't come into play until the twelfth century and should've been undone in the thirteenth. But here we are 11 centuries later and priests are still celibate (sort of...).

Abortion. My parents and I are very liberal. We are pro-choice. I really despise when people say I'm "for abortion." I am not in any way for abortion. I just believe a woman (and her partner) have the right to choose not to bring a child into this world, especially for medical reasons. I think it is OK to be pro-life. I just don't like when people try to make pro-life laws in secular societies. Being firm in your beliefs and allowing your faith to deeply influence your life is awesome; but you shouldn't force your beliefs or faith on others. The choices I make in my own life - I do not expect others to make those same choices.

Gay Marriage. This is an equal rights issue, people, and I'm in equal rights type of girl. My dad and I were both thrilled when New York finally got it together. I was not thrilled when I learned that the Catholic Church is now no longer accepting donations from any of the legislators who voted in favor of the bill. The bill doesn't force churches to perform same sex marriages, so this makes no sense to me.

Birth Control. I recently read a survey that said 98% of Catholic women have used or do use some kind of contraception. Kids are expensive. Responsible adults can use BC if they want. Obviously 98% of Catholics don't care about the Church's stance on this. Also, if non-religious teens and young adults are having sex, they should be using birth control. Bringing a child into this world before emotionally, intellectually, and financially ready is a great tragedy, for so many reasons.

The Secular Agenda. The Pope and a lot of Protestant leaders in the world like to throw punches at "the secular agenda." Of course there's a secular agenda in secular societies! And clearly, there are religious agendas in secular societies. It's OK to have a religious agenda but not a secular one? I love that America is a secular society. Basically, I love America. As Eboo Patel brilliantly stated in a recent article, America is sacred. And she's sacred because she's a secular society. We don't always live up to our core values of equality across all spectrums, but we work for it in every way in every day. It's freaking awesome.

The Sex Abuse Scandal. As my father said, the sex abuse scandal is maybe one of the worst things in the history of the Church. There are a few others, but this is really up there on the list. The worst part of it all wasn't finding out about the rampant abuse, it was finding out the way the Church covered it up and dealt with it. These priests should have been excommunicated on the spot. Sexually abusing a child is in no way consistent with the teachings of Jesus or of the Church. Instead they were kept safe by the Church's money and offered therapy. However, the Church only took 4 months to excommunicate Fr. Roy Bourgeois who ordained a female priest, ending his 36 year career.

Soo, I didn't keep it that brief... Sorry.

Post Confirmation: High School Experiences

After confirmation, one concept of the ceremony became increasingly true in my life: I was treated as an adult in regard to religion (for the most part). My mom slowly stopped waking me up on Sunday mornings. She didn't tell me that I was a sinner for not going and not wanting to go to church. I was finally allowed to make my own decisions. My brother and many other kids had stopped going to church in high school, but more so because they didn't want to wake up early and were sick of being told what to do. These kids still went to church on important holidays and occasions. One such occasion is the graduation mass held for all graduating seniors in the parish. My brother happily went to this mass. When my invitation came, I put it in the recycling pile. My mom pulled it out and asked me if I had seen it. Of course I had; how else did it get into the recyclables? She asked if I wanted to go and I responded by asking "Why would I go? I haven't been to church in years." She sighed. I'm guessing she was holding out hope that I would get over my rebellion and go back to church. I wasn't a rebel without a cause, though.

Although I quit going to church, I didn't stop wrestling with my faith or with G-d. During the many nights when it took me hours to fall asleep I would ask myself questions about the nature of G-d: Is He like a person? Does he stretch out like elasto-man to be everywhere at once? Is He Jesus? 3 pieces? 1? Is He our consciousness? Does He even exist? It was extremely difficult for me to understand G-d outside the Catholic teachings, so for a long time I went back and forth. Sometimes I believed there is no G-d; essentially I was an atheist. Other times I prayed to Him fervently. I would feel guilty about praying but not going to church. Why was I praying when I didn't believe in or follow the teachings of the Church?

It is very important for me to mention here that in March 2005 my brother was deployed to South Korea and I did not see him for 13 months. We constantly read and heard about the nuclear threat from North Korea. I have no idea if the time he spent there was more dangerous than other times in the past ten or twenty years, but it sure seemed like it. The anxiety and fear I felt necessitated I reach out to a higher power. I didn't want my brother to be sent home in a box. And so I prayed.

It was the times that I knew everything was fine, because my brother told me so, that I would begin to feel guilty about the way I prayed. He was fine and nothing was going to happen to him so why the heck was I praying to a being I didn't even know existed? After Korea, my brother went to London for 3 years. There were tons of terrorist attacks there on trains, buses, and elsewhere. What else could I do but pray? My brother's time in the Army is when my faith developed into what it is today. G-d is a unity who is ultimately incomprehensible to humans. A three pronged god conflicts with the nature of a truly higher being who has created and continues to create the universe. G-d is not a Christian and you don't have to go to church to communicate with Him and to be close to Him. He took care of my brother so that he could take care of his family and take care of me. When I look at my brother's children, I see G-d in the purest, most wonderful ways. It is incredible.

But as I grew closer to G-d, I grew further from the Church. I couldn't help but to despise the hypocrisy I saw and felt. I felt it from the people in the parish I grew up in and I saw it in the history of the Church. Why was the church always butting heads with science? To me, science and math can show us the nature of G-d. Why does the Church think and act in the opposite way? The oppression that has occurred at the hands of the Catholic Church is, to me, the greatest disappointment. I know from the stories I grew up hearing about Jesus, that he wouldn't approve of the behavior I saw and read about.

While all these things I've written here today are the truth, I don't think I've quite conveyed the frustration I felt during high school. I fought with my parents a lot, especially about religion. I didn't want us to call ourselves Catholics. No one even went to church. Why does Jesus hang on our walls when we don't act like him or ever ask ourselves WWJD? And then when I'd get really upset, I'd yell "What good did Jesus even do this world? What were we saved from? Terrible things still happen. Wars still happen and people still suffer." When I was around 16 is when I'd really had it. In one of these fights with my parents, I ran into my room to get away from them, but they followed me. In a complete rage, I went to my wall, picked up the Precious Moments cross and threw it across the room. It broke in half, and no one ever fixed it.

The cross has never gone back up.

Faith & Confirmation

So, as I mentioned in my first post, I was confirmed in the Catholic Church in 2005. I also mentioned that we had to pick a confirmation name and write a report on it. What name did I pick, you ask? A name that now could not be more ironic: Faith. Even at 14 I didn't have very much faith so I obviously didn't pick it because it described me. I picked it because confirmation names must be picked in honor of a saint. There are over 10,000 saints and not one of them was named Buffy. Quelle suprise. There is, however, a saint Faith (I have no memory of what earned her her sainthood, so don't ask). I wrote my report on her and in my statement of why I chose that name, I very clearly stated that it was because one of my favorite characters from Buffy the Vampire Slayer was called Faith and she was totally badass. OK. I didn't say badass to the church. But that pretty much summarizes what I did say. Now, I laugh every time I think about picking this name because in the religion which requires the utmost faith, I have none. I don't have faith in the theology, the system, or most of the people.

For my service project to the church I acted as an usher for about three months. Basically, all I did was collect the money and release people from their seats for communion. I had to go to church anyways so standing up and walking around during the mass was totally worth my service hours. Best part about ushering: the couple who was in charge of it have a beautiful son. He is a year older than I am and I got to sit next to him for three wonderful months. Of course I was secretly hoping he'd want to "go out" with me, I was a 14 year old girl, people. (I'm 87% sure he's an atheist now, so church did us both wonders.)

I won't go into detail about the trinity again, just going to reiterate that it was a serious problem for me. I just kept hoping and hoping as we got closer to the actual ceremony that it would finally click. I had anxiety over it. Then I just gave up and resolved that I would understand it when I was older - like it was a calculus problem or something and I was only ready for algebra. Well, I got a 5 on the AP Calc test and I still don't get it. And I finally figured out, it simply isn't possible. The solution does not exist, DNE.

So you might be wondering now, why did you go through with it? Why not just say no thanks and not be confirmed? Easier said than done, mon amis. How am I supposed to tell my Italian father and grandfather that I don't wanna be Catholic? If I had, they probably would have just laughed and said I was 14 and that I didn't know what I wanted. This wasn't like not wanting to go to school. If you're not ready to make a life long commitment, then you shouldn't do it. No one would have let me get married. So why did I have to confirm my faith? But that's not the way things work in the Catholic Church or my family. To my family, and to a lot of other people, the Catholic Church is about tradition, and you don't monkey with tradition.


However, I did make one attempt to get out of it, but it wasn't the most well planned strategy. It was sort of an accident. About three or four weeks before the ceremony, my mom took me out dress shopping. I was very cranky and didn't like anything she/we picked out. Then we saw the director of religious education - a woman who to this day does not like me; the feeling's mutual - and I was not thrilled. So then in the dressing room I'm getting really agitated by it all and my mom looks at me and asks, "Do you even want to be confirmed?" Almost immediately, I responded with wide eyes, "No." She sighed. The next month I was confirmed.

I don't think I will ever in my life forget my confirmation. I was sitting on the left side of the church, about four rows back and my confirmation sponsor was sitting on my left. She was wearing blue and I was wearing pink. When the bishop got to the part about becoming adults and what a huge step we were all making, I peeked to the right and looked at everyone. Did I really think that anyone was going to jump up and say, "Forget this!" and walk out? No. But I wanted to see if anyone else looked as doubtful as I felt. To my surprise, everyone looked so calm, sure of themselves, and excited for the next part of their lives. "Crap," I thought. "This is it."

There was a party back at our house afterwards. And everyone congratulated me. At least there was food.

Reconciliation & Rebellion

Reconciliation spurred my first real rebellion against church and religion. Rather than boredom, this was a theological issue. I have only received this sacrament 3 times in my life. Each time was with my CCD class. Reconciliation/confession starts in 4th grade and you're supposed to go on a regular basis (monthly - if not, yearly). I kept it to the minimum by going with my CCD classes once a year.

I was not (and am not) the only one who hated the idea of telling a priest yours sins and being given a punishment for it. Since I went in the CCD groups, all the other kids went to public schools too which meant most of their parents weren't observant enough to send them to parochial schools. We all thought confession was dumb. We would get in groups of our friends and talk about what exactly we were gonna tell the priest. We'd come up with three specific examples to tell him; usually fighting with parents, with siblings, and with friends were among the three. We'd get our 5 minutes with the priest, he'd tell us how to repent*, then we'd gossip with each other while we waited for everyone else to finish. It was quite a ridiculous process.

I know there are many people like me who hate the idea of priests acting as intermediaries between people and G-d. I have never kept this a secret from anyone, including my mother. After my final confession in 6th grade, she picked me up in front of the church and asked me how it went. I said it was fine. Then she asked me what I talked about with the priest. Instead of pleading the fifth and telling her that was between me and the priest, I told her "nothin' really." She said, "What do you mean? You're supposed to tell him your sins so you can be forgiven." Screw that. I told her, "If G-d is all knowing, then G-d knows what I did wrong, and He knows when I'm sorry. I don't need a priest to tell Him."

What could my mother** say? Her 12 year old had thought it out very thoroughly, and didn't need the sacraments of the Catholic Church.



*I think once the priest told me if I did an extra chore for my mother, like emptying the dishwasher, then I would be forgiven for fighting with her. How silly.

**My mom hasn't been to confession at least since this incident. I don't know what influence I had or when her last one really was. Is is my fault? Is there even blame to be placed? I can't really answer that right now.

Questions, Doubts, and The Trinity

I'm not gonna beat around the bush here, people. No one told me Jesus was supposed to be G-d. Yeah, sure, the nuns and teachers said "Son of G-d." But "Son of G-d" and "G-d" are a hell of a lot different. One can easily be a metaphor. We're all supposedly G-d's children; I just thought that Jesus was the best behaved or something, a shining example of who we should strive to be.

It wasn't until the junior high years when I started catching on to this idea, and by that point it was probably too late. I had spent at least ten years thinking of G-d as G-d and of Jesus as a human being named Jesus. How was I supposed to reconcile the two? You better believe I asked questions about the trinity at CCD. I remember telling my eighth grade CCD teacher that if Jesus was supposed to be a piece of G-d on Earth, then after he died he should have just become one with G-d again, and his separate entity of Jesus should have ceased to exist (I think this was pretty impressive logic since not one adult helped me get there, although I of course no long believe it to be true).

This may come to a shock to readers of a non-Christian religion, but asking questions is not a good thing, especially in the Catholic Church. Some Catholic teachers might say they encourage their students to ask probing questions and think deeply about their faith, but that's not the standard practice. Probably 90% of the people who've left the Church as a result of childhood/teenage experiences will cite their frustration at not being allowed to ask questions. To the Church, questions=doubts. Maybe sometimes the questions do stem from doubt. But other times the questions may come from a genuine curiosity to understand just what the hell they're talkin' about. Either way, questions shouldn't be discouraged. But that certainly was my, and my best friend's, experience.

I can't think of a specific example from my own life to illustrate just how discouraged questions are in the Church, but I have a great story about my best friend. Let's call this friend Suzy. Suzy had the same general experience I had with the Catholic Church: went to public school so she did weekly CCD classes & went to church with her mom & sister on Sundays. Suzy didn't/doesn't understand the trinity either. So during her eighth grade year (the one leading up to confirmation) she keeps asking questions about it. The teacher tries to brush her off or explains in a rushed and annoyed manner. Suzy just says flat out, "How is this possible? I don't get it!" After a while she started to get sent to the priest to discourage these questions. Someone might try to interject here and say, "Oh! No, they just sent her to an 'expert' so she could get better answers." To whoever is thinking that, you're wrong. The priest did try to discourage her from asking questions and from "interrupting" class. He asked Suzy, "Don't you want to marry a Catholic?" [because the only way she could is if she is a confirmed Catholic] Suzy replied, "I don't know." An honest answer. Then the priest asked, "Well, don't you want to get married in the Church?" The priest thought he had her on the ropes, that she would give in, say yes, and stop asking questions. Wrong. Suzy said, "No, because I want to get married outside." Then the priest gave up.

In my opinion, the fierce discouragement of questions probably drives many young people, who would otherwise be faithful Catholics, away from the Church. For me, it is just one on a long list of reasons.