All Hale-Bopp and Other Cosmic Thoughts

Things were bad in January and most of February, until I got the job at the AJCC. Then I sold my computer. Next I got hit in a car accident and received a $1,200 check for doing nothing. Finally, in March, four or five direct signs of my religious attitude and general direction showed up.

First, Dana, a Jewish woman I work with, made it very obvious that she liked me. So we went out. Physically, we are very attracted to each other, but our personalities don't mix. Plus, after I tried kissing her, something I thought she wanted, it was all downhill from there.

Second were Karen and Sharon, also Jewish women. Sharon lives across the street from me. I had talked with her in the past, but... well, I put it in her mind that if she ever wanted to go to Piedmont Park, we should go together. The day of the accident, in fact right before it, she came over as I was leaving. Oddly, right from the get-go I liked her, but there was no spark from her or from me. That was the odd part.

Meanwhile, I am working nights at Zaban, and I meet Karen. Again, like Dana, the connection was physical, but Jewishly I can't be with her. Yet I know I will still try to see what happens.

Well, one night, a Saturday, I went out looking for... nothing, because I ended up driving all over and eating at IHOP. Big mistake. I spent that Sunday morning with food poisoning. Real nice. Sharon dropped by unexpectedly around noon on Sunday, and I recovered quite miraculously, I might add. By 4 p.m. we were on our way to the park. We went out the next Thursday. She went out of town; I went out with Karen. Again, I get the feeling that if I had been living on my own, or with non-religious college kids, we might not have made it to the park. But we did. I think I talked too much for her. Jewishly, while I am no "Mister Religious," she has closed her mind to it.

The Sunday before Purim, Sharon was leaving for New York or somewhere again. We had gone out that Saturday, and I wanted to see her. I didn't, so I went to the Purim parade, and then to a play called Kindertransport.

Kindertransport is a play about a woman who, at nine, leaves Germany for England just after Kristallnacht. She is adopted by a Christian woman and slowly forgets who she is, meaning she converts to Christianity. All of this is revealed through the memories of the now forty-something mother of a daughter who was never told any of the story: not about the war, not about who her mother was, and not that she is Jewish. The daughter discovers it all and, in painful scenes, makes her mother tell her. In one memory, the mother, at eighteen, meets her biological mother, who survived the Holocaust and wants to take her daughter with her to America. But the daughter had changed her name and religion and tried to forget all of it.

While I was not torn up by the Holocaust theme, the secondary theme, forgetting and denying who one is and the religion of one's mother, tore at the core of my being. It went straight to the heart of my initial reaction to my father, and to when I returned to Orthodoxy that first time. I hope I haven't done irreparable damage to my relationship with my father. More than anything, the play made me want to return to Israel. But I still don't know if I'm strong enough to confront him on my own.

Deep inside me, I am religious. I have been for some time. I struggle with breaking habits and overcoming my animal desires. Now, am I "religious," or "Orthodox Jewish"? Not 100% no. Not 100% yes. On Saturday, April 12th, I will make a public declaration of my commitment to Torah Judaism. I have waited thirteen years for the "right" moment or level of understanding. While I realize that Judaism is not all or nothing, I know that my contrary lifestyle must end.

I wonder, however, exactly how more learning will help me be more observant of the commandments. In the end, each one is a matter of personal choice. Submission to the idea that what I am doing brings me closer to G-d, my professed desire.

On one hand, I don't see myself learning for the rest of my life. But I could also see myself learning and then doing something like teaching or writing with the new knowledge. Mr. Adler obviously did some learning, but he works, and he is even suspicious of formal training. He thinks people need to earn a living. I agree; "Hashem will provide" is not secure enough for me. What's the difference between sitting and learning in college for four more years and in yeshiva? Mainly that after four years of college I will be able to earn a livelihood, while the same time spent in yeshiva will certainly enhance my Jewish knowledge but won't help me provide for myself, not to mention raise a family.

But okay, Daniel: what, or how, do you plan on making this money?