Jewish World Review July 26, 1999 / 13 Av, 5759

An unwritten ending


By Peter Bebergal

http://www.jewishworldreview.com -- ABOUT SEVEN YEARS AGO, while on a camping trip in the Blue Mountains of Pennsylvania, I stumbled across a group of Orthodox yeshiva students who were camping as well. I happened to be down by the public facilities when I saw about twenty young men gathered together and getting ready to make their way back to their camp site after showering.

It was a strange time in my life, struggling between my own secular/ traditional upbringing and my new interest in becoming more observant. I had never actually met yeshiva kids before, and I thought it a sign from G-d that here in the woods of southern Pennsylvania, during a very spiritually dynamic but confusing period of my life I would run into a group of Orthodox Jews.

Econophone I was flabbergasted to say the least. But I was also nervously excited and approached one of the men and asked him if I might join them for their evening prayers. The boy, a few years younger than me, myself twenty five or so at the time, wearing shorts, tee-shirt and a yarmulke looked at me strangely and then asked, "Are you Jewish?" An appropriate enough question if it was not for his defensive stance, and it seemed as though he turned into a certain kind of bird that raises its head dress when alarmed.

I said I was and he looked me over as to if to judge by my appearance what level of observance, what kind of Jew I was, and looking bewildered and put upon said, "Sure, I guess so." Needless to say, I did not attend their services, although at the time I was so hungry for Jewish meaning, I sat by my own campsite and my friends and silently fumed.

I had not thought much about this incident for some time, until this week when waiting for a bus in the morning in my neighborhood, noticed a young man walking down the street. He was wearing a yarmulke and carrying a tallis bag. I assumed he was either coming or going to services, but on a Thursday morning in my part of the city I cold not imagine where to or from. As he passed me I greeted him and said, "Are you going to pray? Where are there services?" Looking at me much in the same way my yeshiva friend had, he replied, "I am coming back, from the Harvard services," and with that walked quickly passed me with absolutely no gesture of warmth or recognition.

It was as if I was a gentile who had said, "Hey you crazy Jew, what are you doing praying this time of the morning?" I had in fact, asked out of a real desire to know, still in spritual struggle with my own Judaism.

Some of the Orthodox, it seems, have a certain kind of impatience for those of us that are asking questions, seeking to learn. There is something about Judaism, at least in the modern life, that invites a certain kind of defensiveness, a certain protective garb. This is in some senses justifiable, but when it is turned towards other Jews, there is a sense of real disharmony that is different from say, Protestants vs. Catholics. Jews have always had disagreements when it comes to observance.

From the days of Roman occupation of Jerusalem with its many sects and factions, to the struggle of the early Reform movement with its Orthodox critics, Jews love a good fight, especially when it comes to the Law. But the Law is not a stone that you carry in your pocket, that some Jews have and some do not. It is a lived experience that some of us have a hard time with and need teachers.

During my early exploration into observance I contacted the local Chabad House. I made an appointment to meet the rabbi and I made sure I wrote down all my questions, all the things that had been perplexing me, all the things that kept me from Judaism. The meeting with the Rabbi ended up being nothing more than my putting on Teffilin while he read the prayers for me. For him, my questions were irrelevant, in fact they were irksome to him, an his only concern was getting the phylacteries on me and then sending me on my way, "now go forth and learn."

I struggled for a long time with these new rituals, and eventually abandoned many of them for their lack of substance. I knew the substance was there, but those who might have been able to explain it to me had no time for me, wanted nothing more than my observance. And if, upon first glance, they felt they could infer my level of commitment, that was where they decided what I was worth as a Jew. There certainly is something to be said about doing first and learning as you go. But I am a product of a the ask questions first generation.

There, have of course, been those who were eager to teach. The Orthodoxy is just as varied as any other movment in Judaism. I have seen the same kind of impatience and judgement in the most liberal of gatherings. But those with the most knowledge are obligated to instruct. One Orthodox rabbi told me that Jewish practice is a diamond that must be slowly brought to its fullness from the coal it came from. He explained knowledge without practice is empty. I have struggled with this for many years, slowly bringing to bear those aspects of Judaism that have both meaning in theory and praxis. It was patient lessons like these that were and are the kind of responses I seek.

Leiters Sukkah It could have been that the fellow I saw recently was coming from a service for a holy day I had not know about. I wish he had stopped, if only for a minute, to tell me about it.

Knowledge, unlike wealth, really does trickle down. If there is in place a filter, though, this knowledge becomes distilled and all the minerals are left behind. What we are left with is basic nourishment, but the vitamins are gone. A spiritual diet of just water and fiber is not not enough. If my questions mean that I am less educated, then I should be seen as being teachable.

The Orthodox Jewish community must see the less observant not always as diluters of the faith, but rather seekers, trying to make Judaism have real meaning in this, our secular world.


JWR contributor Peter Bebergal is a Cambridge-based writer. You may contact him by clicking here.

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©1999, Peter Bebergal