"Good Shabbos," "Shabbat Shalom.
" These were greetings I learned from two separate temple congregations I attended in my fifteen year journey through Judaism, the last decade of which I dedicated myself to Judaism by the act of conversion.Normally, I am hesitant to discuss my spiritual journey, because I think of such things as personal, individual matters. I'm not an evangelist seeking to convert people to my way of thinking. But in light of the recent news related to Hamas, the Gaza and Israel, which has extended to organizations seeking membership of "We stand with Israel" between Christians and Jews, I thought I would share the story of my journey through Judaism. Any reader of this, I ask only one thing. This is my journey, not yours, so I would like respect shown to what I share.
I became interested in Judaism at a young age by way of several paths. One was learning early from my Christian parents that without Judaism there would be no Christianity. Jesus was Jewish. But that brings up another matter I've learned over the years: the perception of the man known as Jesus, the historical and theological aspects meshed with cultural aspects, myths and legends. But that's another topic of focus.
The second path which brought me to Judaism was, as with others, study of the Holocaust during the twentieth century, and I did, indeed take coursework related to that historical period, one of the worst in human history. Notably, it began with the diary of Anne Frank, which has been revised over the years as more details have been released (and I own each new revision.) But Anne Frank was part of a traditional European view of Judaism which was rather alien to me as an American. Of course, her family's suffering touched me deeply.
When I started college, my journey through various religions gained momentum. I attended a Jewish temple but felt a bit of an outsider because I didn't know that much about the culture beyond what I'd read. While the temple is Reform in spirit, (the more liberal branch of Judaism) like other small temples in the area outside of major cities, the congregation tends to be an amalgam of those raised in the Orthodox tradition, the Conservative tradition (the more moderate) and the Reform tradition. Various views accompany such a mixture in one group, but that doesn't make it bad. Just different.
Years later, when I committed to Judaism by conversion, I had no intention of leaving it. I'd studied with a rabbi to whom I had to journey several hours because he was in another region than where I lived. I shared some of my thoughts on the transformation and he provided feedback--the humorous aspect of this study was that I had read the texts he suggested over a period of time when I wasn't actively seeking conversion. As I joined another temple congregation, also small, and like the first, without a full-time or even part-time rabbi, I tried my best to adapt to a congregation which relied as many small congregations do, on lay-leadership and monthly visits by rabbinical students (who are often referred to as "rabbis" or "teachers" by congregation members...but I think that title should be reserved for those who make it through the difficult learning process akin to seminaries known by Christians. But that's just my view.)
I became involved in lay leadership of Shabbat services on Friday evenings and inquired into a program aimed at deeper lay leadership training known as "para-rabbinical studies," though it has gone through many name changes over the years. While the congregation with which I affiliated did not discourage me, they did make it known that they had functioned quite well for years without a person with para-rabbinical training so that they felt I should just do the training if I wanted it, it wasn't necessary for the congregation. It was a double-edged view. I wanted to serve my congregation, my Jewish family in a broader sense than just Friday evening services, so I felt the training wasn't thought of as necessary but it was what they knew. I was supported in my attendance at the regional conference where several thousand Jews attend to worship, to learn and to become an engaged community for several days. It was an awe-inspiring and deeply satisfying experience for me spiritually.
As time passed, I found that the congregation to which I belonged had a much more "help society as a whole" approach in their thinking than one of weekly religious observance or spiritual inquiry. This concept was not, of course, a bad one, but it was not what I personally was looking for in my own concept of community. Perhaps this was related to their own upbringing, I don't know. But it was rare to find many people at the weekly services unless it was the monthly visit by the rabbinical student, and of course, during the time known as the High Holy Days (or Holidays) in the Jewish Year, or an event like Passover. It reminded me a lot of those Christians I'd known who go to Church twice a year: Christmas and Easter. Likewise, sports took a greater significance in the life of many members than did weekly services or spirituality (as it has in my experience as a Christian member of a congregation,) so the small congregation attendance was very small during some sports seasons, and sports, not spirituality seemed to be the topic of interest.
I did meet people who enriched my life, but my spiritual life, always more introverted than extroverted languished because I had only one other person (also a convert) who engaged in spiritual discussions with me. When I decided to leave the congregation after much prayer and meditation, I called up my friend who like myself was a convert, and broke down in tears as I discussed my difficult decision with her. Fortunately, our friendship remains beyond the bounds of spiritual interests.
Perhaps if I had been more "extroverted" or been a member of a larger Jewish congregation, I would have found a home for life. I blame no one for what happened, but I did return to the religion in which I was raised, and fortunately a denomination which allows a person to think differently than some Christian denominations. As a resident of southern Louisiana both in college and for a few years following, I heard many stories from "ex-Catholics" or as they sometimes call themselves "recovering Catholics." It is something to which I cannot relate. But that is another "journey" story.
Do I regret my journey through Judaism? Not really. The end result was not what I would have liked, but knowing myself as a spiritual seeker, I reconciled myself to following my heart, or as one friend has summed up such a journey: "Go where you are fed spiritually."
