More Inspiration

I feel a bit like, over the past two days, I've been picking up the peices of my somewhat shattered faith. I've talked a lot about spirituality in this blog, and a lot about my attempts to find a home within a spiritual path. Recently, I'd read a couple of books (by the same author) which really cast doubts in my mind about the path I'd been on. Her claims about archeological studies disproving many of the Biblical stories, including the Exodus and the existence of Moses, disturbed the side of me that looks to science for at least some of the answers to why we're here and what life is all about. I began doubting my belief system, and I starting telling myself that maybe it wasn't the right path for me anyway, that maybe I needed a faith that was more accepting of my tattoos, less restrictive, etc. So, I resumed walking a path I'd followed while I was in college, and it did bring me a great deal of joy. Within this path I found a renewed sense of wonder at the magical side of life, a freedom of movement. The problem was that I began to really miss the religion of Judaism that I'd been following with a very happy heart for the past four years. I missed the structure of it, the guidelines that explained to me how to handle certain situations wherein I had no clue how to behave, that special moment when the Sabbath candles are kindled in our home on Friday night, the prayers which allow me moments during the day to connect with God and create holy moments out of seemingly mundane activities, the deep connection with God that I felt when I said these prayers. I think that going through a crisis of sorts has helped me to understand who I really am in my soul.

I experienced something similar about two years ago. I'd been feeling lonely with Judaism; my husband is Catholic and when I'd go to synagogue I'd look at families there together and wish that my own family could attend services together as well. Sometimes my husband accompanies me but it's not his faith; the service doesn't tend to touch him the way it touches me- it's not "his thing". My daughter is Jewish but is too young to know what's going on during the service. After much agonizing, I decided that maybe our whole family should be Catholic, and I began attending services with him at church. It didn't work. I would go to church and sometimes I got a little something out of the services (certainly every spiritual path has some great messages) but mostly I felt uncomfortable and a bit hypocritical. I would go and focus on the statues of Mary, where at least I could find some solace in looking at her as the feminine form of God. Trying to get to the heart of the matter with regard to the emotions I was experiencing, I searched online and found the website for Jews for Judaism (a very informative site). I did a bit of research with regard to issues of faith, to the Jewish standpoint on who Jesus was. I read about why as Jews we believe as we do, and I agreed with what I read. All of it made sense to me. At last, I knew what I wasn't. I was definitely not going to be able to give up being Jewish to be Catholic (and I don't mean to offend anyone here, but there really is no such thing as a Jewish Christian; you are Jewish or you're Christian. You can't be both. Read the explanation for this at Jews for Judaism.).

Anyway, last Thursday I was supposed to meet up with a Pagan Mommy group at a local park. We went to the park, but I didn't find anyone there from the group; I think they'd already left due to the intense heat outside that day. Undaunted, I stayed there with Bebe and let her run around under the water sprinkler. Afterward, we went to lunch at a local subshop and ate lunch. After munching on a sandwich and chicken nuggets, I began to gather our belongings to leave the restaurant. As I looked up from the tray holding our spent sandwich wrapper and nugget box, I noticed the Rabbi from my temple standing at the counter ordering his own lunch. I chuckled to myself, as when I'd been standing in his place earlier I'd wondered if Miami Subs served food that would be considered Kosher (I have no idea why that question popped up in my mind; maybe as a precursor to what God had planned next?). I talked with him for a bit about the local Jewish school and about his views on homeschooling, etc. I noticed he was reading a book about Jewish spirituality and something about that began to re-kindle a spark within me that I think was wanting very much to be set afire. I left with a feeling of God having intervened in my life; I've never seen the Rabbi there before, and had I not stayed at the park for as long as I had I would not have met him at the sub shop. Had I met up with the group, I probably would have left the park earlier and missed the Rabbi completely.

On Friday night I lit the Sabbath candles with my daughter and said the blessings over them. It was one of the most meaningful, special, spirit-filled moments I've experienced within Juduaism (although holding the Torah scrolls at almost 9 months of pregnancy after doing a mikveh in the ocean as part of my conversion wasn't such a shabby moment either-my father's family is Jewish and my Mom's Catholic, so I had to convert to be recognized as Jewish, despite that I always felt that I was anyway. ). I've experienced many moments of understanding, hope, realization, and awe along my path of Judaism, but something about sharing with my daughter something that my own parents never shared with me (I was brought up with no religion at all-just a belief in some sort of God) was hugely special. I feel this week as though I've come home. I've returned to reading my prayers in the morning and at night. I've begun singing the Shema to my daughter when it's bedtime. Coincidentally, since we've resumed this ritual she's stopped waking in the middle of night with bad dreams, so maybe she'd gotten used to this and was disturbed on some unconscious level when I stopped it. When I tried Catholicism on for size two years ago and realized that it wasn't the religion for me, I returned to Judaism with a stronger faith and a greater level of excitement than ever. I hope that will be the case this time as well, and indeed I feel it will be. Perhaps sometimes we need to check out the sights on a different pathway to realize that the sights along the path we'd been walking previously are just as beautiful but more relevant to who we are within the deepest recesses of our soul. I read today that within Jewish mysticism there exists a story about how Jewish converts are really old souls returning to their true path of Judaism. I'd like to think that's true.