The Moment I Knew I'd Fail At Judaism
Some spiritual paths have a higher, sharper learning curve than others. Judaism, the religion of origin of my father's people is one of them. At multiple times in my life, I made attempts to step into those religious traces. It felt respectful of that side of my family, especially my father to do so. For various reasons, it just never took.
Don't get me wrong. I respect and love those traditions and what they represent. It just never felt like it was really me the way the syncretic mix of Anglican Protestantism and Southern U.S. Animism did. Some get the nuances of religious identity fairly early in life. For others, it takes a while. Even when a person says, "Yep. This is it!" there might be lingering tugs in different directions and internal queries as to whether one is sure.
The truth can be more complicated. A person can identify as an ethnic Jew without being a practicing Jew. My father's people are actual tribal North African Jews. Some cultural anthropologists call them Mizrahim, while others fold that group into the more general designation of Sephardim. Many people in my family left what was then Palestine (which some of them still call Palestine) when Europeans came in and insisted they knew what G_d wanted and it was to create an Israeli state to bring on Armageddon.
My people were less than enthused with all these people who seemed to know little about their own religious thought and yet were so sure of what G_d wanted. Okay, I'm Episcopalian, I can write God, so I will from now on. All of this side-eye to visiting people of the book who wanted to rearrange the idealistic furniture was understandable. Dad's people were mostly clergy of various sorts: rabbis, cantors, mohels, and scholars. In short, they didn't trust Whitey, so they all moved to various points in the New World.
Do you see why I feel at least a little like I am letting down my ancestors?
So about this moment. A friend from drama school is working on an opera based on the book of Exodus. He sent me pictures of some of the set pieces and props he's building. Gosh, they're all beautiful. Even the manna looks pretty tasty. what got me was the picture of his golden calf. It's prebroken, so Moses can throw a fit about it every night and they just piece it back together for the next performance.
My buddy asked me what I thought of it. Okay, if I was a good Jew, I would have expressed consternation at that evil idol. That's not what happened. I forgot myself.
"It's so cute!" I squeed. "I'd put it in my house if I saw it at a yard sale."
What kind of person puts a false idol in their house because they think it's cute? You're probably thinking what I'm thinking. Time to take the L on being one of the tribe.
May 18, 2023
Don't get me wrong. I respect and love those traditions and what they represent. It just never felt like it was really me the way the syncretic mix of Anglican Protestantism and Southern U.S. Animism did. Some get the nuances of religious identity fairly early in life. For others, it takes a while. Even when a person says, "Yep. This is it!" there might be lingering tugs in different directions and internal queries as to whether one is sure.
The truth can be more complicated. A person can identify as an ethnic Jew without being a practicing Jew. My father's people are actual tribal North African Jews. Some cultural anthropologists call them Mizrahim, while others fold that group into the more general designation of Sephardim. Many people in my family left what was then Palestine (which some of them still call Palestine) when Europeans came in and insisted they knew what G_d wanted and it was to create an Israeli state to bring on Armageddon.
My people were less than enthused with all these people who seemed to know little about their own religious thought and yet were so sure of what G_d wanted. Okay, I'm Episcopalian, I can write God, so I will from now on. All of this side-eye to visiting people of the book who wanted to rearrange the idealistic furniture was understandable. Dad's people were mostly clergy of various sorts: rabbis, cantors, mohels, and scholars. In short, they didn't trust Whitey, so they all moved to various points in the New World.
Do you see why I feel at least a little like I am letting down my ancestors?
So about this moment. A friend from drama school is working on an opera based on the book of Exodus. He sent me pictures of some of the set pieces and props he's building. Gosh, they're all beautiful. Even the manna looks pretty tasty. what got me was the picture of his golden calf. It's prebroken, so Moses can throw a fit about it every night and they just piece it back together for the next performance.
My buddy asked me what I thought of it. Okay, if I was a good Jew, I would have expressed consternation at that evil idol. That's not what happened. I forgot myself.
"It's so cute!" I squeed. "I'd put it in my house if I saw it at a yard sale."
What kind of person puts a false idol in their house because they think it's cute? You're probably thinking what I'm thinking. Time to take the L on being one of the tribe.
May 18, 2023