Freewrite

This was written in a class we have here called “Myself, My Jewish Family.” We were asked to write about something Jewish from our past, while some good nigunnim (“soul songs” usually tunes with no words) were playing in the room.


A young women sits,
Learns. Is taught, teaches herself.
She is thirsty for torah, as there
Has been a drought, she thought.

The page comes alive with
Color only a child can draw.
The Torah comes alive with
The memories of her past.

Connection: The young women
And her past. This time,
No angel came to take it away.

(Just as an explanation of the last line: in Jewish lore, an angel comes to each child in his mother's womb and teaches him the whole Torah. But upon the birth, an angel slaps the child on the mouth and the child forgets everything.)


“I felt nothing. Again” I said with a smirk. My Jewish physics instruction smiles with approval after he asks about my weekend. Joking about religion is common-place in college, especially with a promoter of science in place of religion.

What was I really saying? Was I atheist? Did I truly believe, or was that religion based on my feeling “nothing”? If I, at some point, felt something, would my world turn upside-down?

Believing isn’t easy. But logic, and reason, is incomplete. Like the tallest building can try to reach the sky, it still comes from the ground. Like I grew to learn, so too, did my understanding come from the ground. But I didn’t wait for my foundation to shake, for my tower to fall. I revealed science for what it stands—on dust.

What am I really saying? Am I religious? Do I truly believe, or is this religion based on my feeling “something”? If I, at some point, feel nothing, would my world turn upside-down?

Believing isn’t easy. But G-d is something that cannot be ignored. Built on the only kernel of truth we have, G-d, religion goes where no tower can.

Do I truly believe, or it this religion based on my feeling “something"?
...If I, at some point, feel nothing,
What will I do?


I looked to my dad as he tells me the story of his grandfather walking to synagogue on Shabbat.
What dedication, I thought. How crazy...
I looked to the Chabad Rabbi as he leads the Pesach seder.
What dedication, I thought. How crazy...
I looked in the mirror.
What dedication, I thought. How crazy...