The Enigma

"Why?"

"What exactly was it that made you change your mind?"

"How did this happen?"

Living in a small town community has its challenges for any Jew, I know. We're isolated from Jewish culture centers and inundated with messages that Christianity is the real religion (I was surprised to realize the other day that "Judeo-Christian" really means "Christian with some heritage" when in common usage around here). With this in mind, why would I be at all surprised to find that Christians are baffled at the thought of conversion to Judaism from Christianity? After all, I am well aware that the prevailing thought is along the lines of "Christianity is Judaism perfected." Why wouldn't Christians question my decision to "go backward?"

Even a couple years into this journey, I still find these surprises lying in wait for me, just as they still scratch their heads. I am the enigma to my friends, family, and acquaintances. I am the problem they discuss when religion is the topic of conversation. I am the human Rubik's cube that they continually fidget with and fuss over, hoping to find the one part that clicks and unlocks the puzzle.

It sounds so self-centered, but for my nearest and dearest, it's generally accurate. I think the dailiness of Jewish life, the weekly coming of Shabbat, the frequency of the multitude of Jewish holidays on the calendar, along with the Christian admonitions to bring back the wanderer and evangelize to the unsaved, keeps this paramount on their list of to-dos. My seeking and studying has been boiled down to the terse "are you still doing that Jewish thing?"

Well, yes, I am. Thankfully, "doing Jewish" is a great way to put it, so the question makes me smile rather than frown. Yes, I'm still trying to live my life Jewishly, do Jewish things, celebrate Jewish holidays, doing that Jewish thing.

Even holding conversation after conversation, the questions continue to emerge: why would you go backward? Why would you turn your back on your upbringing? What did it?

I think they want as much to know "what was the clincher" as anything. I don't know whether it's due to a concern that a similar situation might affect them the same way, or whether if they could just know what to attack and argue against, they might have a chance to change my mind. It's as if my convictions are in code, and if they could just break the code, they could reorder my thoughts. So what on earth was I thinking?

In all honesty, it's been long enough that the original catalyst has long gone fuzzy in my mind. I remember the feeling of wholeness I found in the synagogue that first Simchat Torah, but I don't remember the arguments that caused me to question the upbringing I received. I remember the feeling of opening up a door when I began Hebrew lessons and could follow along in the siddur during services, but not the words that might have made me open to the experience. Apparently, the first inklings will have to remain an engima to us all. What's important to me is my continuing identification with Jewish life and the Jewish community. How and why did it begin?

I honestly don't know. But I'm glad it did.

Mental Wrestling is Physically Tiring

I was speaking with my rabbi several months ago. The week before he had asked me several difficult questions about my desire to pursue Judaism, and I had been near tears while expressing my answers. The following week I walked into the Hebrew class calm and in a pleasant mood. After the lesson was through and we were packing our things to leave, he asked how I was doing. When I told him simply, "doing pretty well," he smirked (yes, my rabbi is capable of smirking, as horribly disrespectful as that sounds) and observed that I must have decided to put the mental, emotional, spiritual fight to the side and not think about it. I had to agree with him.

Choosing to stop believing and living in the way you were raised is not easy. Making a decision as to whether that is the right thing or not is even more difficult. I find myself wishing I could let go of this tug-of-war and simply be whatever it is I am meant to be. There are times when my soul cries out for relief, for peace, for G-d to step in and put me on the right path for me. How am I ever to know I am on the right path? Unlike a path through the woods, which can be lost but retraced to restore one to the original way, a life cannot be relived. Once a decision has been made, a path has been chosen, there is no turning back for a "redo" or "do-over." There is no way of knowing which spiritual path is "correct" until one reaches the end and steps over that threshold into what lies ahead. Many times I've wished nothing lay ahead...how easy to fall into a conscious-less slumber, with nothing to answer for and no one to please.

I don't know what to think. I don't know what to believe. I am frightened by my own ignorance, and disempowered by confusion. Will I ever find my way out of this labyrinth I've entered, or will I wander here forever? How can I lead my children if I can't find the way myself?

I am at a loss.

Hmmm...

I was riding down the road today and passed a business sign...one of those with the removeable letters that you can change to read different messages. This one read something along the lines of "I will not leave you orphans. I will come to you. John 14:18." (Of course I just googled this to make sure I was right. ;))

An interesting thing is happening inside me...I read that, and the first thing that popped into my mind was, "Well, he hasn't come yet!" I'm finding that more and more I feel divorced from my conservative Christian roots, and more and more I feel at loose ends. I'm caught betwixt and between...no longer comfortable in the faith of Christianity, not yet comfortable in the heritage of Judaism. Speaking with a friend, I said I felt as though I'm "faking it," because I'm not "really Jewish." I don't know if that's a genuine feeling, or if it's born of my husband repeating it to me so frequently in the past few months. I'm sure it's a bit of both. I want so much to tell my rabbi I'm ready for the next step, ready to begin a true track toward conversion. At the same time, I'm scared stiff. My husband said loudly in a clothing store the other day, "You can't wear that--it's not Jewish enough." In a small town, news travels fast. Not only was I shocked that he was saying something about clothing (what exactly is "Jewish" clothing anymore, anyway? It's not as if I'm considering converting Orthodox that he could say I'm not fitting a dress code!), I was also shocked that he was pointedly doing this in a public place where he was apparently hoping to be overheard. I've told him before that I'm not sure enough in my convictions (or perhaps lack thereof?) to "come out" to everyone that I'm wanting to convert to Judaism. We do live in a small town, and it is predominantly Christian. Unlike what they claim in their dogma, Christians have long memories and are not terribly forgiving, especially when it means their values and beliefs, their veracity, has been questioned. Even in "returning to the fold," if I were to do that, I would forever be a pariah in this area.

Sadly, that's the main reason I'm not "coming out" yet. Interestingly enough, every time I take part in something that reinforces my Judaism (attending the Chanukah dinner, when my daughter and I ended up as part of the broadcast on the evening news, or being seen and possibly heard discussing Judaism and Telushkin with a friend while out in town the other day, for examples), it seems to be something that draws attention to me. I'm not sure if this is meant to "shame" me into turning away, or if it's meant to encourage me to be bolder and take that next step...regardless of what others think.

Honestly, I think I'm reading too much into it. ;) I'm hoping to read through the JPS Tanakh (which I am thrilled to say I own now!), and see if that helps me see things more clearly. I would like to take the Intro to Judaism class that's coming up, but of course want to talk with my rabbi before then.

Would I be more likely to have already begun that by now, or less, if I weren't having to fight tooth and nail for every concession my dear husband has made to me thus far? I wonder...