With the exceptions of my pre-school warning my mother I
wouldn’t be “Catholic school material,” a brief stint spelling my name
backwards in kindergarten, and Geometry in general, school has always gone well
for me. Figuring out curly hair and driving without crashing into things were
stressful endeavors, but not so seminars on symbolism or memorizing dead
presidents. Thus, it makes sense that my first Introduction to Judaism class was
something I looked forward to with a good deal of anticipation. Once a nerd,
always a nerd.
Another exciting aspect of Jewish class? Moses is coming
along for the ride! (I thought this might put the kibosh on his trying to trick
me into believing fake news about Judaism, but no such luck. Two words: Blood.
Libels.)
Before the first class, the rabbi emailed all the
participants, so Moses and I tried to guess which of the 30 or so names were Jewish
and which belonged to gentiles. We were surprised to see a pretty even split. Like
Sherlock and Watson, we also inferred there’d be a variety of ages in the class
based on the presence of a few AOL email accounts (Oh, AOL. Kids today will
never know what it’s like to have to get off the internet so your mom can call
the pharmacy. But I digress.)
The first day of school arrived and I made sure I played it
cool enough that I wouldn’t be the first to arrive. But not to cool—I wanted to
make sure I got a seat for Moses, who is notoriously running late, and so it
made sense to also get seats near the door, but maybe not right next to the
rabbi because, well…obviously. Cool as freakin’ cucumber, folks.
Almost right away it became abundantly clear that the class
was too big to fit inside the little room we’d crammed into. We played “make the circle bigger” a few
times, but ultimately ran up against some literal walls. Somewhere in the
moving of chairs Moses arrived promptly at 7:30, which shocked me to the point
that people must have assumed I hadn’t known my significant other had signed up
for the course. Finally, everyone grabbed their chair and crossed the foyer to
a larger room, where the real fun began.
You know how when you’re doing an orientation-type activity and
you’re asked to introduce yourself and say a few words about what brought you to
that place in time? The rabbi asked us to do that, expecting a casual
introduction that would reference your name and the fact that you wanted to
learn more about Judaism. What he got instead were the Jew Class Monologues,
and they were really incredible.
To be honest, I was expecting most of the class would be
like Moses and me: a supportive Jewish partner paired with a willing, ideally
enthusiastic, Jew-to-be. The stories I
heard that night were so much more than that, though. There were people who
were already married to Jews who had decided they wanted to share a faith with their
children. A handful of women had recently moved from Latin American countries,
meaning they weren’t just leaving one religion for another, but entire cultures
to find a new community here in Brooklyn. An older couple shared that they’d
been members of the congregation for decades, but that they wanted to learn
more about their Jewish identity. Most moving of all were the stories from
those in search of belonging. A sizable portion of the class had been raised
in religions that didn’t accept them for who they were, and who were returning
to religion with both hesitation and hope. All I could think during these
stories was, I can’t believe I’m sharing something this important with you.
After the last person in the circle had spoken, the rabbi
stood, and looking slightly abashed, praised us for our openness. “People
usually just say that they want to learn more about Judaism!” he said. But I
was so glad our group had over-shared. After just an hour of being in the same
room with a few dozen strangers, I was reinvigorated in my commitment to this
process. I had approached my conversion as something special to me, but I
realized in that moment that I was going to be a part of something bigger. I
would be witness the unfolding of other people’s stories. I won’t be forging just
a new aspect of my own identity, but creating a community that would play an
important role in the lives of others.
I was looking forward to going to school to learn history,
prayers, and rituals. I knew that if we were tested, I would pass. Turns out,
this class is going to be a lot more in depth than I thought. I left it awed by
the humanity of my classmates, and in some cases, the bravery of my fellow
human beings. I didn’t feel less special when I compared my stories with others
that I heard, only that my experience in the class would be more significant
than I’d previously imagined.
I leave you on a lighter note, though. Moses’s introduction
and explanation of why he was at class:
“To be honest, I’m pretty confounded as to why I’m here. You
think you’re rebelling, that you have a nice shiksa on your hands, you’ve made
your mom mad…then, all of a sudden, she’s interested in your religion, she
wants to be Jewish, too, and your mom is happy, and instead of a leaving the
faith, you’ve added another Jew to the world! It’s crazy!”
And just like that, I realized I was with the class clown.
Of course, I wouldn’t have it any other way.
