Before continuing with the narrative, I'd like to reflect a bit on what had just happened. I had grown up believing I was Jewish. I had often done a show and tell about Judaism in school, usually around Chanuka time. The teachers made a point of allowing me to work on "winter holiday" projects according to my (ie, the Jewish) calendar. I always knew I would only marry a Jewish girl and rear a Jewish family. I now had my children enrolled in a Jewish school and going to an authentic, Orthodox Jewish synagogue. And now I wasn't Jewish. I didn't buy into the whole "only the orthodox won't accept you" nonsense. I had grown up believing I was Jewish and being proud of being Jewish and making a point of letting others know that I was Jewish. And now I wasn't Jewish.
It goes without saying that this was a blow to how I viewed myself and who I was. That, in fact, is an issue with which I struggle even now. But this was absolutely the death knell to the uneasy compromise regarding how much and what kind of Judaism my wife and I incorporated into our lives. Up till this point, we were Jews were doing more now than before; so matter what we did it was a net positive. Now that I wasn't Jewish, however, it was either do everything (to merit being able to become Jewish), or... remain a goy. Less than everything was now nothing. That meant, of course, that "staying the course" was not an option. Moreover, it put enormous pressure on my wife; for while I was the one who was not Jewish, she had the final say in whether or not I could become Jewish. (Breaking up the family was not, Baruch HaShem, an option that either of us ever considered.)
Ze lo fair, as we say in modern hebrew.
It goes without saying that this was a blow to how I viewed myself and who I was. That, in fact, is an issue with which I struggle even now. But this was absolutely the death knell to the uneasy compromise regarding how much and what kind of Judaism my wife and I incorporated into our lives. Up till this point, we were Jews were doing more now than before; so matter what we did it was a net positive. Now that I wasn't Jewish, however, it was either do everything (to merit being able to become Jewish), or... remain a goy. Less than everything was now nothing. That meant, of course, that "staying the course" was not an option. Moreover, it put enormous pressure on my wife; for while I was the one who was not Jewish, she had the final say in whether or not I could become Jewish. (Breaking up the family was not, Baruch HaShem, an option that either of us ever considered.)
Ze lo fair, as we say in modern hebrew.
Comments