An Accounting of My Soul: 10Q Edition

The High Holidays are upon us. While some Jews might dread this time of year, what with having to account for your actions in the last year, lots of time in shul, and having to miss a lot of work or school, I AM SO EXCITED. I love the High Holidays. They're just so Jewish (duh?). I love honey and I love fall. Recalling what we've done in the last year and thinking about how to be a better person is a really good exercise for the soul. This is known as cheshbon ha'nefesh which literally means "accounting of the soul." What better way to start this than to review my 10Q responses from last year!

10Q is a project that sends you a question every day during the Days of Awe. You respond and then the answers go into a virtual lockbox for the next year. You don't have to be Jewish to participate by any means, but the calendar does run on the Hebrew calendar. I have two responses I want to share with you.

Day 4: 

Describe an event in the world that has impacted you this year. How? Why? 

Your Answer: 

The killing of Osama Bin Laden - I remember find out in a way through twitter. I didn't find out the details but I remember knowing something big happened and i turned on the news. And there they said it "Osama Bin Laden is dead." I called out [my roommate] into the living room and called my dad and told him to turn on the TV. It was such a momentous occasion. We called and texted all of our friends and family. Then we saw on facebook that people were jumping in mirror lake. We drove over to campus and got out and frolicked around with everyone. It was so exciting. 

Sometime in the next week, I was watching the news again. The anchor had on a priest, a rabbi, and an imam to discuss the death/killing of Bin Laden. I found my self strongly disagreeing with the priest but completely understanding the rabbi's point of view. The priest sad that Bin Laden wasn't evil...? He said just because he committed evil acts that he himself wasn't actually evil. The rabbi said, no! when you commit evil acts over and over, you are evil. You are your actions. Now that made sense. Also, the very next day after the event, two of my Catholic friends posted a quote from the vatican that no Christian rejoices at the death of a man, blah blah blah. These two had been at mirror lake celebrating the night before! so, 1. hypocrites and 2. Bin Laden was our enemy and killed our people. why can't we rejoice at his defeat? Well, I read several articles from rabbis that week that said just that. The rabbis said it was possible for us to simultaneously mourn the loss of a human life, G-d's creation, and celebrate the defeat of our enemy who sought to destroy us, just as G-d permitted the Israelites to celebrate the defeat of the Amonites/Egyptians(?) (but did not allow the angels to celebrate). 

This was an important time in realizing and understanding that my heart and my mind naturally disagreed with Christianity and naturally agreed with Judaism.

Wow. Intense... I think I've always had a Jewish perspective when it comes to thinking about actions, I just didn't know it until a couple years ago.  Human emotions are very complex and I think Judaism honors that much more than Christianity. Honestly, I hate doing the whole compare and contrast thing with the religions, but sometimes that is just what happens. I was happy and I celebrated with the rest of my country when Osama Bin Laden died. That was our natural reaction. We didn't stop to think about it. That's just how we felt. Judaism honors natural human inclination. But the next day we think about it a little more, and it is sad that a human life was lost. Our enemy is gone but so is part of G-d's creation. We can be sad and happy at the same time. Part of the reason we all celebrated was because a dark period in our nation's history ended with Bin Laden's death. We have every reason to celebrate. Certainly, terrorism has not come to an end, but a major leader in the movement can no longer lead or cause harm to us. So I think the celebration comes from the era dying not so much that individual person.

Today, I don't think I am conscious of "this is the Jewish perspective on X event." I think my perspective just naturally agrees with the Jewish one. Well, that's pretty easy when the Jewish perspective can be one of a hundred things. But you know what I mean.

Day 6: 

Describe one thing you'd like to achieve by this time next year. Why is this important to you? 

Your Answer: 

I want to know the prayer service. If I don't have a transliteration in front of me I want to still be able to participate. I also want to know the whole Hebrew alphabet, know number values, and several Hebrew words, both in prayer and in conversation. I hope to find a synagogue to go to when I don't go to Hillel, possibly a rabbi to convert me. Unsure of the specifics on that right now. 

I'd also like to take the GRE again and score much higher on the verbal. This means improving my vocabulary a great deal. 

I want to be working toward getting something published if not already by this time next year.

So, the only goals I achieved this year were my Jewish ones. Oy. I don't know if this is bad or good. Technically, I am working toward getting something published, but I've been working on it since March. Things keep getting in the way. I don't know if it will ever happen. I haven't even finished the article yet, so there is no publishing possibility in sight. I have no intentions of taking the GRE again. I've become completely disenfranchised from the concept of standardized testing.

I know the prayer service. In fact, at Hillel's summer shabbat in July, I was the one reminding everyone of the order of things, saying things like "Now we remain standing for the hatzi Kaddish." I didn't mean to memorize the Reform Hillel service; it just happened. I don't need a transliteration anymore because I can read Hebrew. I think I went above and beyond in achieving that goal. Well, maybe I originally meant that I wanted to memorize the service. I know the basic order but I truly think it's better not to memorize everything because then I am more engaged in the prayers. I have to think to participate.

If you've been reading my blog over the last month, you know that I found a synagogue and a rabbi to convert me. Check.

I am excited for the next 10 questions to be sent out, even though it can be difficult to answer some of them. Some of the questions and my responses are a bit to personal too share here. But Judaism gets personal.

Do you 10Q?

The Church & Cigarettes

Remember when I made that New Year's resolution to blog about things within a week of their occurrence? I've totally failed already. This quarter was very insane what with 22 credit hours of class, 3 jobs, and tons of extra curriculars. Excuses, I know. Hopefully I can catch up over spring break and get back on track spring quarter. The next few posts may not be in chronological order, but they all happened in the past two months.

You may recall me saying that the chef at Hillel isn't Jewish (yay gentiles!). Well, one day I went into Hillel to work on some stuff and ordered lunch at the cafe. He called me back into the kitchen to chat while he made my food. He asked me once last year about conversion, but we've gotten a lot closer since then, so he asked again. I told him I am starting to think about it more seriously. He said, you know that's great if you do and what's great about Hillel is they'll welcome you if you convert and they'll welcome you if you don't. Whatever choices you make, people here are going to accept them and be cool with it. Then he asked me about my childhood and religious background. So predictable. I explained the very liberal, open, Catholic household in which I was raised - that my brother went to Catholic school for 7 years but he switched to public schools when I started. The chef was raised Catholic, too, and he told me his excellent story...

He went to Catholic school through the 8th grade. At some point before that, his parents got divorced. Now, if for some reason you are unfamiliar with the Catholic stance on divorce - either you live under a rock or are from Mars - let me explain in a very simple way: it's a BIG NO NO. The official rules say NO DIVORCE in big black letters, bolded and underlined, twice. The Church will still recognize you as married, and they say G-d does, too. A famous case of the Church not allowing divorce is Henry VIII of England. Google it. But I digress. So his parents are divorced. Few years later, his mom wants to get remarried. You may be thinking that the Church said no, absolutely not. False. They said no conditionally. If she were to make a very large donation to the Church, they would recognize her new marriage as valid.

If the word that comes to mind here is hypocrisy then you are spot on. To be perfectly honest, if I had to choose just one word to describe the Catholic Church, it would be hypocrisy. This is terribly ironic because I vividly remember learning this word for the first time in church. At some point in the New Testament, Jesus talks about hypocrites and how they suck and all that. I was about 5 when I heard this word in the second reading during mass. I tugged at my mother's sleeve and asked "Mom, what's hypocrite?" She said "It's someone who says not to do something but then does it anyways." Small child confused look. "Like if someone tells you not to smoke cigarettes then goes and smokes one. That's a hypocrite."

It seems the Church will let you smoke all the cigarettes you want so long as you pay them lots of money. This apparently doesn't violate their moral code in anyway. While my family's experience with the hypocrisy of the Church isn't quite the same as his and maybe isn't as dramatic, it also has to do with their laws on marriage. Not only will the Church not recognize a new marriage after a divorce, they will not recognize any marriage performed outside of the Church, even if it is the first one for both people. Basically, if your marriage does not perfectly fulfill their requirements (save for any monetary bribes or payments) then you're not married to them. So, what I am trying to get at here is that my brother and I weren't supposed to be baptized.

My parents didn't get married in the Church, or in a church at all. They got married at justice of the peace. The Church makes you do a full year of marriage counseling before you can get married. It's to make sure you're compatible or some crap like that. My dad told the priest straight up, "I've been with her for five years. We're compatible. I don't need counseling." When the priest refused to give in, they said fine, we just won't get married here. They had things to do, children to have, lives to build. Well, they actually waited almost 5 more years before having a child but they probably didn't know that at the time. A week or two after my brother was born, my mom calls the church to arrange his baptism. They tell her no. They say she and my dad weren't married in the Church so their son isn't a legitimate child and cannot be baptized. They will need to be remarried in the Church and then he can be baptized. Oh damn, were my parents, grandparents, and great-grandparents mad. Like my parents were really going to get re-married? They don't have time to be re-married, especially with all the hoops a Catholic marriage entails. My grandma and great-grandma went to the church and had a word with the priest. Then my brother was baptized.

What happened? I always got the impression my grandma and great-grandma pulled the money card. You threaten to take away that regular donation from a long-standing Catholic family, and you're gonna have issues. That's why the priest gave in. There were no problems when my baptism rolled around, although it was performed at a much later date than normal (3 months after I was born). I guess no one was concerned about the fate of my soul being stuck in limbo for all of eternity. Probably because that doesn't happen.

So the chef finished that year in his Catholic school so he could be confirmed, but his brother was taken out of school right after that episode. His mom sat them down and said you guys are old enough to decide for yourselves what you want to do, but I am not going to go to church there anymore. So they didn't go to a Catholic church anymore. Sometimes he and his family now go to a non-denominational church, but they're not very religious. He likes to talk about G-d without calling him any name, i.e. Jesus, and without drawing any pictures, i.e. of Jesus, which I think is pretty cool. It makes me feel better that I can see the options for my future in him and other people at Hillel. Though at this point I would rather do the work to convert to Judaism than have no religion at all, at least I know I have another good avenue to go on.

Uncomfortable questions

Last night at Hillel was Jummah Shabbat, put on by the Muslim-Jewish Dialogue group on campus. There was a lot of interfaith discussion happening at dinner. Let me also say that this was the week my roommate decided she would finally check out Hillel with me. When she said she was Catholic to our table, the Muslim guy with us might have had a small heart attack. His eyes popped out of his head, and he immediately turned to me and pointedly said - not asked - that I was Catholic, too. He couldn't believe his luck: Jews on each side of him and two Catholics across the table from him. You could see all the prejudice running through his head. I think that he over came a lot of that through this dinner, which is good because that's the whole point of interfaith dialogue. But that's not really my point. My point is he and the Muslim girl leading the discussion made me feel super uncomfortable. Now, let me be clear, it was not because they are Muslim. I definitely don't think that. It just so happened that this week, two Muslims made me feel uncomfortable instead of the usual Orthodox Jewish guy.

Last night and at so many other times, people have projected their predetermined prejudice against Catholics onto me. But what they are completely ignorant of is that I have those same issues with Catholics & the Church and then some. Instead of trying to get to know me, they put me in a box. A box in which I don't belong. People who know me, the Christians and the Catholics, know I don't belong with them in the same faith box. They never put me there. I'm not a boxy person, but I know that I am technically a Catholic. I've received 4 of the 7 sacraments, and I've got one hell of an Italian last name. Can't really get around it.

And what's more, is that the guy didn't stop when I said "Yes, I was raised Catholic." He inferred from this that I was now Jewish and asked "And you converted?" In his eyes you could see that he was in total disbelief - why on earth would someone convert from Catholicism to Judaism? Well, I could name at least 127 reasons, but I simply said "No. I am not anything." Luckily, one of my friends chimed in and explained to him, "She just likes to learn about a lot of different religions and be well rounded." Phew. We finished that round of discussion questions and then I was out. My roommate and I just talked quietly to each other until dessert, which we ate in the lobby.

As if that episode of name stereotyping wasn't enough for one night, I've got an even better one for ya. The rabbi walks up to us and asks us how our discussion went and I told her not that great and recounted the story. Did she say, "Oh don't worry about it"? Nope. Rather, she asked "When you convert," big emphasis on the when, "are you gonna change your name? It's totally gonna call you out if you don't. Jews just don't name their kids Mary."

Before I tell you the next thing she said to me, I should tell you that at the beginning of the year when I talked to her, her tune was a little different. After about three Shabbat dinners, I decided I needed to make sure she knew I wasn't Jewish. I mean, that's something the rabbi should know about a regular. I told her I figured she knew since my name is Mary and all, but I just had to make sure. Her response was along the lines of "Not really - but that's totally fine! Kids have lots of different names these days. I'm just glad that you come here if you're interested in Judaism because so many people are afraid." That made me feel great back in September. Now it's winter and things are a little gloomier...

So, I told her "No. I don't know. Probably not. I mean, it's my name." Blah blah blah. She replied, "Yeah, I didn't." Then that was pretty much the end of the conversation and she went to talk to some other people. Like, really?!?! You finally tell me that you converted to Judaism and just leave me hanging? Nothing else? Now, granted I totally figured this out in December when she was talking about Christmas and Santa and seemed to know a little more and have a little more to say than the average Jew. She definitely was speaking from experience. It was a total bonding moment. But then we didn't have very many more and I figured she didn't want to talk about being a convert so she pulled away or something. I have no idea any more...

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OK. On the one hand, these moments where people obsess about my name and make me feel like I don't belong definitely put me back about 5 steps. Good thing I ended up not telling my mother that I want to convert to Judaism because now things are up in the air again. I know it seems stupid but how am I supposed to take it when people tell me that my name - something that is literally a part of who I am - needs to go? And on the other hand, I've got a rabbi who converted to Judaism, which makes her the ultimate resource for me, and I have no idea what to do with her. Oy.

Obstacles, Obstacles

There's something I've been debating writing about, because it will give away more of my identity. But I think it's important to this blog and I'm really starting to not care. So if you can figure out who I am and you know me, congratulations. Sure it'll be awkward when friends start talking to me about what's on my blog but I'll get over it.

I got an internship... at Hillel. It's a somewhat long, uninteresting story of how I got it. But basically I am in charge of Holocaust Awareness on campus. Yes, I am the only non-Jewish student employee, but the chef isn't Jewish either so it doesn't seem that big of a deal to me. However, if I stop and think about the state of my life right now -- an employee of Hillel, a regular attendee of Shabbat services and dinner, hanging out with Jews every weekend, living with two Jews next year, taking a class on the Hebrew Bible (even though it counts as my world literature class for my English major) -- my life is pretty freakin' Jewish. How'd that happen?

Life's funny. So OK. I am this intern for Holocaust Awareness, right. So I have been continually reading about the Holocaust, Holocaust Denial, and antisemitism. Depressing, right? Kind of, but that's not my point here. [First I want to remind everyone about my post about two months ago in which I had a mild freak out. Then an awesome commenter, you know who you are, pointed out several good reasons to convert to non-Orthodox Judaism.] I guess what I am getting at is, I am torn between a strong desire to fight antisemitism as a non-Jew (because I believe that the non-minority are equally, if not more, important to the fight against baseless hatred and bigotry) and a desire to have a real religion and community in which to raise my future children. Someone with a Christian name, such as mine, denouncing antisemitism resonates quite differently than someone with a Jewish name denouncing it.

In all honesty, I think I know where I'm headed but this is a tension I am dealing with right now. I have to actually overcome this to be able to move forward with any life changing decisions. And there's just one more thing: for me, choosing to convert isn't just about choosing to change religions, it's about choosing to be religious at all. I mean, whenever I imagined my life growing up, it was always sans religion. I planned to raise my kids with morals and ethics, without the pesky religious stuff getting in the way. Sure the idea of religion being pesky was based on my limited and not very good experiences with the Catholic Church, but it's still a strange thing to envision. I am asking myself now, can I really make a commitment to be religious for the rest of my life? Can I be a good Jew?

Am I My Brother's Keeper?

"You shall not oppress a stranger, for you know the feelings of the stranger, having yourselves been strangers in the land of Egypt" (Exodus 23:9)

"Do not stand idly by while your neighbor's blood is being spilled." (Leviticus 19:16) 

Tonight I went to a Dinner and Dialogue at Hillel, but it was an interfaith event. I was a little uncertain about going to an interfaith event, since I am in this weird interfaith stage and don't necessarily speak from or for a particular faith. It ended up OK but it really got me thinking. There is never enough time at these things for everyone to say everything they were thinking, and what I wanted to say didn't really fit naturally into our conversation. Lucky for you all who now get to read it!

The topic of discussion was "For whom are we responsible?" and we were guided somewhat by the Torah verses above. At my table at least, we all agreed that being responsible includes other people: taking care of them, standing up for them, helping them in whatever ways they need. We feel responsible for our family members, our friends, and our religion. A Muslim girl spoke about how she feels like she represents Islam to people and feared that by not saying hello to two people she really disliked for legitimate reasons that they would dislike all Muslims. If people would dislike Muslims just because one Muslim didn't say hello, then they're dumb. But there are lots of dumb people in this world so her fear was real and justified. This made me think about my own life. I never felt like I represented Christianity or Catholicism, mostly because I grew out of that stage by the time I would have started feeling that kind of responsibility. But could I represent Judaism to someone? Could I handle that responsibility? I think that's an important thing people must consider when converting, regardless of what religion. Do you want to be the face of that religion to some people and carry the responsibility of properly representing your chosen faith? I'm to a point now where I can answer people's questions about Judaism without hesitation. I'm not the most articulate person, but I can do it. If people ask a question, I know what the Jewish response would be.

But I am getting a little off topic. For whom are we responsible? In short, everyone. We are responsible for each other because we are all a part of the human race. Rabbi Joseph Telushkin wrote that when G-d asked Cain what happened to Abel and Cain responded, "What? Am I my brother's keeper?" that the entire rest of the Torah answers emphatically, YES! The Torah tells us that yes, we are our brothers' and sisters' keepers. We are responsible for one another because G-d made all of us with care.

One of the discussion questions that we never got to asked us to share a story that demonstrates what responsibility means to us. I didn't get to share my story and it's really the whole reason I wanted to post tonight. Almost nine years ago, one of my best friend's older brother died. He died in an accident, but not really. He was at college, the same college I go to now, and lived in an apartment with three or four other people. They had a party and when it got late they said OK everyone, go home. Eventually, everyone filtered out and they went to bed. This is how parties go, right? Well, apparently some people weren't happy about the party ending because they came back. They were not empty handed. They stuffed towels into beer bottles, essentially making little bombs, and threw them into the house, through the windows. The house caught fire and they ran.

My friend's brother died that night because of some drunk dumbasses who were never caught because they ran. Who knows, maybe the people (or person?) were too drunk to remember. But they probably just didn't want to go to jail for manslaughter. Her brother was a good person, studied hard, played golf, did community service. He died because it was time for the party to end. He was responsible in ending the party and the people who didn't agree ended his life. Does doing something stupid when you're drunk excuse you from it? No, not in the slightest. I hate when people try to excuse their behavior by saying "Oh, well I was drunk." And if you're making fire bombs when you're drunk, then you need to not be drunk! You're clearly a terrible person when you're drunk. And quite honestly, I've always been a fan of "A drunk mind speaks a sober heart." You don't usually say things totally out of the ordinary when you're drunk: you're usually just more blunt and more sloppy.

What else can I say about responsibility from this story? Well, I have to tell you about the aftermath. My friend's family grieved, they dealt with his death. They had support from family, friends, and the community. He died on April 15, 2003. By the next year they had established a scholarship fund in his name for high school seniors who embodied his qualities and wanted to attend his school or study in his field or play golf. They continue to raise funds for the scholarships year after year to help young kids achieve their dreams of earning a college education. I was one of those kids they helped. His dad still works as a guidance counselor even though he could be retired. He works with lower socio-economic students and brings groups of boys down to the college to visit and to get them thinking about their future. My friend is studying psychology and she did her senior exit project on how children cope with death. This family works so hard to help people who go through rough patches, whether or not the rough patch is the same as theirs was. This family takes responsibility in our world and makes it a better place. Rather than falling apart, like some families do, they made themselves stronger and work harder to support other families. They'll never understand why their son and brother was taken from them, but rather than hide from the world and from responsibilities, they take on more responsibilities.

There are different levels of responsibility. Not standing idly by can be anywhere from taking a direct stand to make a change to simply being aware. It is simply not possible for all of us to stand up for everything. But I think it is a basic civic responsibility to be aware of the situation. Know what's going on over seas. Know what's going on down the street in a different community. And if you know no one is doing anything about a problem, a light will probably go off in your head telling you that you should be the one to step up. Find your cause and work for it. But don't be stuck on that one cause for life. Move around and go where the world needs you to go.

Above all, the prophets remind us of the moral state of a people: Few are guilty, but all are responsible. - Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel 

An individual has not started living until he can rise above the narrow confines of his individualistic concerns to the broader concerns of all humanity. - Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.

Reading Hebrew and a Conservative Minyan

First of all, school has been so crazy! I can't believe it's been two weeks since I last blogged. Second of all, I'm making some pretty great progress on my Jewish New Year's resolutions.

Do you remember what it was like when you first learned how to read? Maybe you've been around a little kid the first time he or she put all the letters together and realized they make a word. It is so terribly exciting for little kids when they first read. They go around reading everything and on some level, they know that the world just opened up to them so much. Maybe I'm just a huge nerd, but that feeling doesn't go away as an adult. Of course I am referring to reading in Hebrew. For the last two Shabbat services at Hillel, I've been able to read the prayers in Hebrew. I was so excited and proud of my self that I was reading everything, even the stuff I know by heart.

Most things in a Reform prayer book are transliterated, but not everything. So last week, we get to a prayer/song that is one of the few we do that doesn't have a transliteration. And I could finally sing it! I knew a few words here and there from listening for so long, but now I have access to this prayer because my awesome friend taught me to read Hebrew. I thought I wouldn't be able to follow along for a long time, but following along with something you're already familiar with actually helps a lot.

Almost nothing in a Conservative prayer book is transliterated. Tonight I went to the Conservative service, and it wasn't closed off to me the way the High Holiday services were. Yes, there were more prayers that I didn't know how to chant, but at least I could follow along. Don't get me wrong, I got lost a lot. But I wasn't nearly as lost as I was during the combined Torah service on Rosh HaShanah. To say the least, I was very happy with how tonight went.


After going to tonight's Conservative minyan, I have been to all three of the main movements' services. It's safe to say, I am more comfortable in the liberal movements (Reform and Conservative). Granted, one of the best d'vars or sermons I've ever heard (that includes any Christian sermon) came from the Orthodox Rabbi in Alabama, but the prayers are all but impossible to follow if you haven't grown up that way. The men mumble... a lot. Even though they tell you what page number you're on, you don't know what they're saying so you can't follow in the book easily. Reform I like because it's super easy to follow along and, at least at Hillel, the services are more upbeat and fun. I like singing along with the guitar (because I suck at singing but in prayer it's fine to suck), but most of the time my favorite prayers are the traditional chants. Enter Conservative service. The leader of tonight's Conservative service didn't call out page numbers very often so I had to watch the girl next to me. I enjoyed chanting the prayers I know and listening and following along with the ones I don't. My head hurt from working so hard to read during the service, but I think the next steps in this journey are to learn more of the prayers in a Conservative service.

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.

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.

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.

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.