I have been finding myself identifying again with my own form of Judaism.
I feel myself driven to help others and provide as many mitzvahs to those around me as I can. It is helping me feel a sense of purpose. I've found that there are other Jews like me that find a structure in Judaism on which we can drape the tapestries of purpose, helping with intention, community, social justice, and so on. A mitzvah is a good deed performed in service of a goal. Often the goal is to serve the will of god. (Jews, though, always write it as G-d since it's taboo to commit any name of god to something that can be destroyed). For me that goal is community building, social justice, and repairing things so that the people around me can make use of them to live good lives.
By most definitions I am not Jewish. My mother and her family are baptists if anything. My father is a Jew and my maternal grandmother and my aunt-- my father's older sister-- taught me about Judaism and how I belong even if some would say I'm not a Jew.
My grandmother and I lived together briefly in a sort of odd situation-- she primarily lived on the same property as my parents and I, but she was a teacher and the school she worked for was nearly an hour away and the commute she had done since the 70s was getting difficult for her at that time in the 90s. I wanted to go to that school instead of the hick school that was near my home. She found a cabin by a lake that was only five minutes from the school and was very inexpensive for her to rent so we lived there during the school week and went home most weekends. I would often stay with my cousin who lived nearby, though, as I had a bad home life due to my father. We talked a lot since we spent so much time alone together. She always told me that Judaism is part of me no matter what anyone says. I didn't have a Bar Mitzvah because by the time I was of that age I rejected religion entirely and didn't want that for myself. My aunt, Pamela, is a war veteran and served in the first gulf war. She and I were never exactly close. She's a chaotic and rather aggressive person, but she, too, always made sure I knew that Judaism belonged to me-- I did not need to "belong" to Judaism and no one else could tell me it wasn't mine if I wanted it. We went to her house sporadically throughout my childhood and teen years for various high holidays. I would begrudgingly go through the motions because she would invite others and even though I was a pretty angry kid and teenager I didn't want to embarrass her by being difficult since she had ultimately always shown me kindness.
When I was a teenager I went to a function that my aunt hosted. I know it was for a high holiday, but I don't remember which one. There was a Rabbi in attendance and he looked exactly like who you are picturing in your head. Old. Bearded. Hair coming out of his ears. Dressed in black. He sat with me and talked for only twenty or thirty minutes, but I go back to those few minutes a lot. Especially lately. At the time I was an angry Atheist. I dressed like a Hot Topic punk and drew ANARCHY symbols everywhere. I started off somewhat combative with him, but it didn't phase him at all. His disposition wasn't jolly, but it was patient and purposeful. I told him that god is a sham to get people to fall in line. He said that I'm not wrong. That many people throughout history have used their interpretation of god as a cudgel to hold power over people. He said that he, himself, wasn't truly sure if he believed in god. That all he knew for certain was that he believed in his community. And that his community believed in him. And that by being there for people and doing what he could to help them find meaning and purpose he was doing good by his people. He said that perhaps god is just that sense of making things right and striving towards something greater than any one person could ever achieve. And he said that if it turned out that his whole life was spent doing these things and it turned out there was no god then he would still be happy with the life he has led. And the service he has given to everyone.
It's not required to have any kind of formal structure in order to do good things. I've lived most of my life entirely without them. But I feel a draw towards it. The heartbreaking strife caused by Israel at first pushed me away from my Judaism. But as both their boldness and the awfulness of my country's government have increasingly made certain parallels with the axis powers in WWII very hard to not see-- so to I've found a sense of righteous indignation growing. These things are mine. They belong to me as much as anyone else. Israel is not Judaism any more than something like the Westboro Baptist Church is Christianity. No more than the KKK is The South.
It feels almost urgent to hold on to these things that, while being bigger than myself and not rigidly defined, are still mine. I still belong. I still have a place within them that is mine to define and mine to claim.
I don't need anyone's permission to be Jewish. My grandmother and my aunt instilled that in me a long time ago. And I also have known my whole life that Judaism is not a fixed thing. It's not a place or a rulebook. It's just a thing you construct in your mind to arrange yourself.
That's what's going on in my mind today.
Posted 7 Elul, 5786 by bee