03-15-2023, 01:55 PM
Due to its complexity, this will be a very watered down version of my whole story, but I'll pick up on the main points. The main question for me remains: how do I bring some peace and understanding about the idea of personal Jewishness or non-jewishness?
For as long as I can remember I've crossed paths with Jewish culture/religion. I grew up in an intensely devout and passionately involved Christian (a strange mix between pentecostal/evangelical/charismatic) family - every single day I lived and breathed my faith, wholeheartedly. I have since left the church (cult) and am now writing a book a of short absurdist stories about the damage it caused; yet, it hasn't damaged my inquisitiveness and search for God. Running through the threads of my upbringing were themes of Judaism and Jewishness. Yes, I was exposed to much messianic judaism (which I thought very strange), reform and even progressive. It was an incredible opportunity to be involved in Shabbats, Pesach, Purim etc. I was circumcised very young, I don't remember it. The first instance I remember wearing a kippah was at around age 6. Yet, I wasn't Jewish and didn't claim to be throughout my life. I even remember an instance on more than one occasion that I told my Jewish friends that wasn't Jewish, to which they protested and said even so, they welcome me as a Jew. Ever since, I've felt incredibly welcomed and accepted and love taking part in festivals etc. Since my early teens, friends and family have flitted between calling me Samuel or Shmuel/Shmueli.
But I wasn't Jewish.
I'm sure you're thinking "this is getting complicated..."
Psychologically this whole idea of Jewishness has been a real conundrum. Considering all the arguments for what Jewishness may pertain to ie, social, ethnic, religous, cultural, etc,. I've been wholly flummoxed, and even quite annoyed with myself that it constantly niggles at my brain, the proverbial itch that you can't scratch.
My family always thought my dad was Jewish. There was even a story. Turned out he wasn't. Either way, my search for meaning, belonging and calm persisted, and wherever I adventured, the teachings and wisdom, culture, etc of Judaism would not go away. About three years ago, I started to teach myself about Chabad; reading, listening, watching everything I could. It blew my mind. Chabad to me felt like I'd found home. But I wasn't Jewish. I felt like God had found me, I had found God again, but not the Christian God.
I still had a hard time knowing that without any Jewish credentials or patronage, my journey into chabad was pretty much sitting on the sidelines. So, I suppressed everything I could about Judaism and Jewishness and started to focus on many other things that would bring me peace, understanding and enrichment.
For my parents' 50th wedding anniversary my family decided to get them two DNA tests. (I know what you're thinking, that baseless DNA fad) My mum's mum was illigitimate,so my mum just wanted to confirm a few things about what her mum had said to her growing up. The test results came back, and to our surprise my mum had Jewish ancestry. It wasn't anything to write home about, but, and it is a big 'but', suddenly everthing started to make sense. My mum, who knew she had family originating in Canada, found out that much of her heritage was of Eastern European descent - immigrants I can only guess.
Knowing that hallacha says that the Jewish line is matri-lineal, I felt there was something to grasp, albeit something that made me feel I was still fabricating my own identity. I'm quite a rational person, and I avoid being disingenuous and try to source a reason/explanation for everything. Still, I'm utterly confounded as to how I identify, to myself. Itdoesn't matter much to me about who knows whether I'm Jewish or not, but when moments come up where someone asks, I feel I have to explain myself away, or just say "no". So, does that make me Jewish to a certain extent? I am very familiar with all the complexities about jewish identity and what it makes up, so right now I'm looking to discuss this to bring some sort of finalisation, just so my brain doesn't stop speeding around.
Amazingly, a new Chabad house was set up in my town at the start of the year. At this point I really thought God was moving mysteriously, but well. I went along purim, was welcomed abundantly, as a Jew. I didn't tell anyone my story, for one it was not the right moment, two it would have taken too long. So I revelled in the pursuit of belonging. I stayed late into the night having a stimulating conversation with the rabbi. He asked me to come back a week later to join him in evening prayers. This was yesterday. Feeling guilty, ridden with ideas that I was lying to myself and to him, I decided I'd tell him my story. I was super excited, but trepiditous was the step, for what could come of it? My feeling was that he'd understand and there would be some sort of sense of relief. To cut a long story short, he was fascinated with my story but - and I expected this - said that technically I'm not Jewish. He asked if I had any documents from my mother that could confirm my Jewry. I told him there were none and we've tried looking before. He understood, and he was very mature and personable about it all.
He still welcomed me to participate in future events, but as an observer. I suddenly felt a pang of real embarrasment and shame for attending purim and then later to his to put on teffilin. Oh yea, that was interesting. I had absolutely no idea he wanted to do that, but we did, and it wasn't until after that I told him my story. He was so excited that I had arrived that evening and there was 14 minutes before sundown so I thought 'If God planned this, then he has a sense of humour'. What made it more embarrassing and shameful for me was that the teffilin he brought out had never been worn, and he was giving me the honour of wearing them for the first time. I started learning Hebrew and the blessings from about aged 13 - my Christian Zionist/messianic influence was the main influence on this (I rejected the idea of Christ as saviour many years ago, but I was also always aware how the Christian church used the concept of Christian zionism for its own agenda - I always felt uncomfortable with the church's ideas on Israel or jewry, and subsequently didn't match what I felt was real Jewry, for myself).
I left mortified by myself, feeling I was an imposter, or that had I lied to myself and to him. Conversion was discussed, but that's a whole other issue. Time to give up this charade I said to myself. Push it away.
But why does all this mean so much to me? Why did I feel I'd found a community, but couldn't reconcile with myself any of the 36 years exposure and my genuine love for Judaism? The biggest question is however, how do I see myself? Jewish? Not Jewish? What are your thoughts? Ideas? Should I continue with this adventure? Where do I go from here?
I apologise for such a long post. But I'm sure you can agree that the complexity of the existential avenues that I've wandered down, a lot of the time without wanting to, have become a real trial for me.
Thank you for reading.
For as long as I can remember I've crossed paths with Jewish culture/religion. I grew up in an intensely devout and passionately involved Christian (a strange mix between pentecostal/evangelical/charismatic) family - every single day I lived and breathed my faith, wholeheartedly. I have since left the church (cult) and am now writing a book a of short absurdist stories about the damage it caused; yet, it hasn't damaged my inquisitiveness and search for God. Running through the threads of my upbringing were themes of Judaism and Jewishness. Yes, I was exposed to much messianic judaism (which I thought very strange), reform and even progressive. It was an incredible opportunity to be involved in Shabbats, Pesach, Purim etc. I was circumcised very young, I don't remember it. The first instance I remember wearing a kippah was at around age 6. Yet, I wasn't Jewish and didn't claim to be throughout my life. I even remember an instance on more than one occasion that I told my Jewish friends that wasn't Jewish, to which they protested and said even so, they welcome me as a Jew. Ever since, I've felt incredibly welcomed and accepted and love taking part in festivals etc. Since my early teens, friends and family have flitted between calling me Samuel or Shmuel/Shmueli.
But I wasn't Jewish.
I'm sure you're thinking "this is getting complicated..."
Psychologically this whole idea of Jewishness has been a real conundrum. Considering all the arguments for what Jewishness may pertain to ie, social, ethnic, religous, cultural, etc,. I've been wholly flummoxed, and even quite annoyed with myself that it constantly niggles at my brain, the proverbial itch that you can't scratch.
My family always thought my dad was Jewish. There was even a story. Turned out he wasn't. Either way, my search for meaning, belonging and calm persisted, and wherever I adventured, the teachings and wisdom, culture, etc of Judaism would not go away. About three years ago, I started to teach myself about Chabad; reading, listening, watching everything I could. It blew my mind. Chabad to me felt like I'd found home. But I wasn't Jewish. I felt like God had found me, I had found God again, but not the Christian God.
I still had a hard time knowing that without any Jewish credentials or patronage, my journey into chabad was pretty much sitting on the sidelines. So, I suppressed everything I could about Judaism and Jewishness and started to focus on many other things that would bring me peace, understanding and enrichment.
For my parents' 50th wedding anniversary my family decided to get them two DNA tests. (I know what you're thinking, that baseless DNA fad) My mum's mum was illigitimate,so my mum just wanted to confirm a few things about what her mum had said to her growing up. The test results came back, and to our surprise my mum had Jewish ancestry. It wasn't anything to write home about, but, and it is a big 'but', suddenly everthing started to make sense. My mum, who knew she had family originating in Canada, found out that much of her heritage was of Eastern European descent - immigrants I can only guess.
Knowing that hallacha says that the Jewish line is matri-lineal, I felt there was something to grasp, albeit something that made me feel I was still fabricating my own identity. I'm quite a rational person, and I avoid being disingenuous and try to source a reason/explanation for everything. Still, I'm utterly confounded as to how I identify, to myself. Itdoesn't matter much to me about who knows whether I'm Jewish or not, but when moments come up where someone asks, I feel I have to explain myself away, or just say "no". So, does that make me Jewish to a certain extent? I am very familiar with all the complexities about jewish identity and what it makes up, so right now I'm looking to discuss this to bring some sort of finalisation, just so my brain doesn't stop speeding around.
Amazingly, a new Chabad house was set up in my town at the start of the year. At this point I really thought God was moving mysteriously, but well. I went along purim, was welcomed abundantly, as a Jew. I didn't tell anyone my story, for one it was not the right moment, two it would have taken too long. So I revelled in the pursuit of belonging. I stayed late into the night having a stimulating conversation with the rabbi. He asked me to come back a week later to join him in evening prayers. This was yesterday. Feeling guilty, ridden with ideas that I was lying to myself and to him, I decided I'd tell him my story. I was super excited, but trepiditous was the step, for what could come of it? My feeling was that he'd understand and there would be some sort of sense of relief. To cut a long story short, he was fascinated with my story but - and I expected this - said that technically I'm not Jewish. He asked if I had any documents from my mother that could confirm my Jewry. I told him there were none and we've tried looking before. He understood, and he was very mature and personable about it all.
He still welcomed me to participate in future events, but as an observer. I suddenly felt a pang of real embarrasment and shame for attending purim and then later to his to put on teffilin. Oh yea, that was interesting. I had absolutely no idea he wanted to do that, but we did, and it wasn't until after that I told him my story. He was so excited that I had arrived that evening and there was 14 minutes before sundown so I thought 'If God planned this, then he has a sense of humour'. What made it more embarrassing and shameful for me was that the teffilin he brought out had never been worn, and he was giving me the honour of wearing them for the first time. I started learning Hebrew and the blessings from about aged 13 - my Christian Zionist/messianic influence was the main influence on this (I rejected the idea of Christ as saviour many years ago, but I was also always aware how the Christian church used the concept of Christian zionism for its own agenda - I always felt uncomfortable with the church's ideas on Israel or jewry, and subsequently didn't match what I felt was real Jewry, for myself).
I left mortified by myself, feeling I was an imposter, or that had I lied to myself and to him. Conversion was discussed, but that's a whole other issue. Time to give up this charade I said to myself. Push it away.
But why does all this mean so much to me? Why did I feel I'd found a community, but couldn't reconcile with myself any of the 36 years exposure and my genuine love for Judaism? The biggest question is however, how do I see myself? Jewish? Not Jewish? What are your thoughts? Ideas? Should I continue with this adventure? Where do I go from here?
I apologise for such a long post. But I'm sure you can agree that the complexity of the existential avenues that I've wandered down, a lot of the time without wanting to, have become a real trial for me.
Thank you for reading.