May 01 2008
Hi All,
I originally wrote a pretty acidic post about Jimmy Carter’s recent groping of Hamas founder Khaled Meshaal in Damascus, but given the great job Chavi did in her recent post on being holy, I thought a post on a situation I’ve faced recently was in order. As many of you may be aware, I live along the North Shore of Lake Superior, a location which, though naturally beautiful, in the Jewish universe is roughly equivalent to Luke Skywalker’s home planet of Tatooine: “If there’s a bright center to the universe, you’re on the planet it’s farthest from.” I am relatively isolated, and although my shul is less than a half hour drive from my house, it is the only shul (other than a very, very small Orthodox one without a rabbi) for a 170 mile radius. It is quite a liberal community - i.e., most of the members are fairly classical Reform - and while I have many close relationships, they are not usually built on an approach to Judaism with which I am most comfortable. While I live a relatively observant life, sometimes being such a lone soldier gets wearing. I’ve been in places where I was in the middle of lots of Jews - Minneapolis, New York, Israel - and in each place it seemed less work psychologically to live an observant lifestyle. But up here, constantly being one of only a handful of people who live an observant life can get very draining.
Sometimes I find that I need to just slip back and take stock of where I am and where I want to be, and to get back to the core of who I am as a Jew. I might get less diligent with daily prayers, do less Jewish study, and wear a baseball cap instead of a kippah. Sometimes the external aspects of observance distract me from my own Jewishness, as weird as that might sound. But for converts, there is a part of us which, while Jewish, hasn’t always been, as much as we may believe our souls have always been Jewish. Sometimes I find that I burn out on observance, and in order to recharge, I need to take some time to get back in touch with myself, and with the reasons I made the decision to become a Jew in the first place.
That’s what I’m thinking about while we count the Omer this year. I am remembering the initial parts of Judaism that drew me in, the things I fell for so many years ago. And to do this, I need to approach things less compulsively, and more out of the sense of wonder that is sometimes hard to recapture. The seven weeks of the Omer are when the Jewish People wandered in the wilderness between liberation from slavery in Egypt (Mitzrayim = the “narrows”), and the majesty of receiving Torah at Sinai. Last year, I was in Israel for the last week of the count, and I spent Shavuot in Mitzpe Ramon hiking the Makhtesh and reading Torah by myself. And in doing so, I got in touch with something at my core that will always be a Jew, connected to our Mesorah’s words and the land of Israel. This year, I am going to spend the weeks of the Omer remembering why I made the journey to Jewishness in the first place, hitting the reset button to unstop the logjam I’ve allowed my observance to become in some areas, and looking forward to moving forward again, taking on more, at Shavuot. Doing so will allow me to approach my observance more mindfully, to mean it more, and that must be a good thing, right?
I have talked to Avi about this before, and Chavi’s post touches on it, but do the rest of you experience the need to do this once in a while?
kol tuv!
Yair
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Beautiful post, Yair. Do I need to step back and remember what drew me to this
crazyobservant life in the first place? Frequently. I live in a world as opposite to yours in Duluth as one could possibly be: surrounded by religious Jews on all sides, kosher food in all the grocery stores and in restaurants all over the country, quiet on Shabbat, and a half dozen shuls within walking distance to choose from. And I STILL sometimes indulge in the fantasy of moving to secular Tel Aviv, living in a highrise apartment with a sea view, eating out in a proper (i.e. non-kosher) Thai or seafood restaurant, and spending Shabbat with an Ipod on the beach instead of with my community. It’s a fantasy that keeps me going sometimes, and that I cherish—both for having lived like that for many years, and for the freedom to remember and imagine for myself that life even now. The fantasy is no less seductive because I actually COULD do such a thing. Judaism, especially for us converts, was and IS a choice, every day. I’ve tasted a secular non-Jewish life, and it tasted great. Knowing I could go back to it if I wanted to allows me to feel that my choice NOT to go back to is really a choice. It’s a great way to push the psychological "reset" button, as you so aptly describe it.Thanks for your very inspiring thoughts. It’s nice to have you back.
Hi Shimshonit,
Thanks for your comments. It’s nice to know that even living in Israel where you are surrounded by traditional observance, stepping back - or even entertaining the possibility - is an important part of what keeps you going. It’s the only way I can keep things from getting too rote, and I am only just at this point feeling like I can give myself permission to do it without feeling guilty. I guess my understanding of halakha is helpful in this respect - that it sets a standard to work for, and it isn’t a pipe with which to beat myself over the head for screwing up or burning out.
Thanks again!
Shabbat Shalom,
Yair
It’s interesting you should post this, Yair. A convert friend and I were talking this week about how much easier it would be to "do Jewishly" if we lived in an area that was a larger Jewish center of life. I think we’re only a little better off than you are.
My friend is considering moving to NYC, my own wishful thinking leads me to Jerusalem. We both agree that we are feeling less of the spiritual strength that we felt at the beginning of our journey into Judaism, and more of the preponderence of ritual.
"But for converts, there is a part of us which, while Jewish, hasn’t always been, as much as we may believe our souls have always been Jewish. Sometimes I find that I burn out on observance, and in order to recharge, I need to take some time to get back in touch with myself, and with the reasons I made the decision to become a Jew in the first place."
This is especially speaks to me…I’ve been trying to get back in touch with myself and "out of my head," so to speak. Thanks for a meaningful post!
Amen, Yair. You’ve hit the nail on the head. For me it’s been a perpetual struggle since I converted (all the bell’s and whistles). I had been consistently in a strong Jewish community, albeit a small one, in Nebraska for two years. Then literally two weeks after I converted I left Nebraska and moved to D.C. where I had no footing, and no Shabbat because work wouldn’t allow me shabbos off. Then I moved to Chicago where I’ve also struggled to find footing, but have managed to find new ways to reset and rekindle. I’m with the sentiment that living within a Jewishly inclined community would help, because you’re constantly reminded of the religious world, not the secular world. But of course there are arguments either way.
Thanks so much for your post!
Chavi
The road I have traveled on since deciding to convert has been convoluted, stressful and any other synonym for those two words you would like to insert here. I was so sure of my inclination to Judaism, so wrapped up in the feeling of "this is where I belong" that I never stopped to realize that there was more involved in the process than simply my own sentiment toward it. Choosing to represent myself as Conservative seemed to only increase the expectations exponentially and I realized that if I wore the label I needed to represent it faithfully and truthfully.
Sometimes the anxiety I felt (and still often feel) as result of the dynamic process of conversion deprived me of the courage and inner strength required to live a more observant lifestyle. It was at that point, when I would be paralyzed by the angst that came with wondering if I was being the best that I could be that I would turn to the words of a Hassidic master:
"Each person must discover his own way in Judaism and then live by its light and be true to the religion by being true to himself." L’Shalom,Chavala
Rivkah -
Thanks for sharing your experience with this. I certainly share your desire to settle in Jerusalem at some point - I LOVE that city, every stone, tree, and bird screams out that you’re in a holy place. L’Shana Haba’a b’rushalayim!
Chavi -
You certainly have lots of Jewish options in Chicago! I think you’re point about the argument going both ways is a good one. While being in an observatn environment would make it less psychologically exhausting to live an observant life, how much of one’s observance is done out of mindfulness, out of the choice that Shimshonit mentioned, versus community expectation? It’s a conundrum for sure… Thanks for your thoughts!
Chavala-
Thanks for sharing that Hassidic teaching. It certainly does provide some perspective on this issue, doesn’t it?
kol tuv,
Yair