Читать книгу Hineni: My Walk Into Beautiful Life - S. Joshua Mendel - Страница 12

If I got my early training right, Judaism teaches three facets to union with God: Torah (study), prayer (including the practice of ritual), and good deeds. The goal is to be "holy". (From Wikipedia: "Devoted entirely to the deity and the work of the deity.") To prevent the "I" from becoming too attached to the profane so that the soul enters a sacred space… Grace. I do not argue with the theory. My deepest hope is that I am carrying this out. So maybe I make my family happy after all—even though I no longer consider myself a Jew, I fit the qualifications!

I came from a unique Jewish family: my dad was nominally orthodox; my mother reform. This created a schizoid religious experience. It started with theology. Here is what I absorbed from my orthodox training and experience:

The Torah is the unfailing, true, and literal word of God. There is a prescribed order of prayers to a service and to a day. There are spoken and unspoken roles and duties in the family; actions that are religiously prescribed or prohibited—even to the point of death. And if you don't do all of these correctly. . . bad things will happen! (Leviticus 18 and 20, gulp!¹⁵)

But here is what I absorbed from my reform religious training:

The Bible is a collection of stories about a people and their relationship with God. While the moral prescriptions are inspired by God, the Bible is not to be taken literally. It is not necessary to carry out all the laws and rituals laid down in the Bible, and carrying them out to the letter does not make one a good Jew or a good person. It is what one carries in one's heart and how one treats others that are the measures of goodness; holiness. (I can't stop myself here . . . but be a heterosexual and for God's sake don't marry out of the faith!)

Either way I looked at it, Judaism did not sit well with me. Even as a child, I did not believe that the Bible was the literal word of God, given to Moses at Mt. Sinai. As an adult, I learned that the Bible was a series of camp stories told for centuries, written down, and then edited/redacted by at least three, separate groups of human beings over 1700 years.

Is the Bible an inspired book? Yes; but there are a lot of people. . . human beings with issues and agendas. . . doing the inscribing! I maintain that God cannot be codified in one or any book. I am with the United Church of Christ on this one: God is still speaking! The Quakers speak of "continued revelation". . . that sure is true in my life!

Reform or orthodox, I learned a lot about ritual. The challenge to me was that I was usually taught what to do; how to do the rite right. Not why we do this, or with what mindset or Goal I should carry the ritual out. Given the fact that I lived in two Jewish worlds, I did not get a clear or consistent sense of what I was learning. The rabbis who were my teachers and tutors were certainly learned. But by word and example, I did not grasp that they Heard and acted from Grace. I cannot remember a moment in their presence where I entered a Trinity with them. (In fairness, I state that given the shut-down child I was by then, this lack may have nothing to do with them or the truth of my times with them. And relationships between rabbis and congregants, adults and children were different in those days.)

Most important to me, the Judaisms I was exposed to at the time had no place for Jesus. In fact, both were afraid to mention his existence! Lately, I have attended some Jewish spiritual classes where I have heard "the J word". So apparently, some Jews consider Jesus a teacher; perhaps even a rabbi worth studying. But follow his example?

I had no way to express this at the time but I can now—Judaism felt incomplete to me. It lacked that shining, loving example of knowing Grace and learning obedience to Its Calls, whatever the sacrifice demanded.

The schizoid nature of my Jewish experience occurred in the home and out of it. We kept kosher at home but ate Chinese food, seafood, and bacon at non-kosher restaurants. I went to Hebrew school three days a week but reform temple school on Sunday. Despite a mostly reform upbringing, I was bar mitvahed at 13 in an orthodox shul.¹⁶

Here was the clearest juxtaposition: I don't remember how frequently this occurred, but we went to the orthodox service with my father on Saturday and then went to the reform service the next day! An orthodox service was very confusing to me as there was a leader to keep the body on track, but people read the service at their own speed. As they davenned (prayed), they would rock back and forth and from side to side. This was quite a difference from the staid, reform service. Periodically, everyone would say the same thing and then it would go back to mumbling and rocking. It seemed to us kids that the collective parts were said so fast that they couldn't really be reading the words—even if it they were in Hebrew which we could not parse out.

In the 60s, there was a cigarette commercial that used a clip of a tobacco auctioneer. We used to parody the service as follows: "Blllllllllllllllllllll—LUC-KEE FI-IL-TER!" (I know; blasphemy!)

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Even as a child, it was not difficult for me to see and feel how differences in theology and practice led to divisions between people, even if they were of the same religion. My Hebrew school teachers and the rabbi with whom I was bar mitvahed were quite clear on this point: reform Jews were not Jews. Reform family members, my temple school teachers, and maybe the reform rabbi told me that the orthodox were fuddy-duddy, superstitious, and backward. I remember disgust and side comments made about those we came across in shtetl¹⁷ clothing as they walked to synagogue.

My family was an even more unique mixture of Jews. My dad's parents were immigrant Russian; my mother's families were Austro-Hungarian in origin and had been in America one and more generations. There was historical hatred and native/greenhorn prejudice between these two groups. So mixture is a poor word to use. It was more like oil and water—the two families might be in the same space together, but they did not blend. I remember being called goy (non-Jew) by one of my uncles. Another uncle prayed in the conservative branch of Judaism; I am not sure if he got any better treatment. I think the conservatives in Judaism were held in disregard by both sides! Like, what do they stand for?

In reform Judaism, children of 15 are asked to confirm their commitment to Judaism. I did so, even though I knew I had no such commitment. I surely didn't have the courage then to say that out loud! After confirmation, my parents allowed me to choose whether or not to go to Temple. I stopped with alacrity. I was totally bored with traditional prayer. I can remember feeling disdain for much of the ritual that gave me no sense of connection and seemed to be a waste of time.

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Let me say more than a few words on behalf of Judaism. First, if Judaism didn't speak to me that is not a fault of the religion. We each come into this plane of existence as a unique constellation of physical body, emotional makeup, personality, gifts and talents, desires and dislikes, etc. Why shouldn't this uniqueness extend to the spiritual? If I get the best reception of Grace when my "frequency" is set to Course in Miracles, Twelve Step, Mankind Project or Reiki it is not any fault in Judaism. Viva la difference! My wish here is that each person be given the freedom, encouragement, and support to find their unique frequencies. That didn't happen with me.

Second, it is the rare birthright practitioner who truly gains an appreciation of the theology, rite, and ritual of his/her religion. When I was exploring Christianity, I routinely found that lifelong "whatevers" had little appreciation and few or no useful words for explaining fundamental concepts like Christ, Jesus, the Trinity, or communion. A vignette to this point:

I participated in communion at two United Church of Christ congregations. At the second church, we would use a sandwich bun for the Bread. At the conclusion of one service, I found one of the parishioners in the kitchen, turning over the silver plate to dump "the Body of Christ" into the garbage can! I was horrified. He was like, "Whaaat. . . wuzza matter?" He had not been taught and/or did not grasp what we had just done collectively: we had made something sacred by our intention, prayer, and sharing.

I rescued that Bread and every other piece thereafter. I took it home for the animals. Shades of St. Francis!

The lack of religious understanding on the part of children is not the fault of the religion. Children are. . . well, children. Most of these developing minds are too immature to grasp or process Numinous concepts. Even if they are precocious enough to ask, children usually get watered down, reified answers. And if they don't like the answers, children are often subtly (or not-so-subtly) punished. In my experience, if you want a cogent explanation and a sincere and deep appreciation of a religion or body of spiritual thought—find a convert!

Having said that, I agree with Jesus: the so-called simple minds of children can come to God and stay there!

* * * *

On the practical level, Judaism has contributed to my growth as a human being; if I may be so bold, a mensch. Judaism has been fundamental to my spiritual growth. My drive to read and to study; my desire and capability to question (when you have two Jews together you have at least three opinions!); my appreciation of service—they each had their birth and were nurtured through Judaism. Look at every field of human endeavor; for such a small number, Jews have contributed much to the forward (spiritual) progress of Humankind. Surely this religion played a profound and probably non-conscious role in these people's lives. It must be so for me. I have known plenty of Real Deals who just happened to be Jews. And I have met or on hotline, spoken to others for whom participation in Judaism was transformative; even life-saving.

I am grateful to Judaism, even for its challenges. Feeling like a stranger in my home religion provided me with important tools for discerning my participation in a technology or a community. My "God-ar" goes up whenever a technology differentiates between people. For example: saved vs. condemned, lost vs. found, sinful vs. righteous. Even those who say they are spiritual, not religious! If any community claims to have the only right way, whether it is its concept of God or the need or right way to practice something to gain His favor or receive Grace, count me out! And quelle suprise—I developed a profound skepticism of rite and ritual. I learned to question whether the energy spent on a service, rite, or ritual actually achieved the higher Goal for which it was intended. If I couldn't make the connection, I refused to participate. A different version of a stiff necked Jew!

* * * *

My mother and sister speak of how comforting and grounding Judaism is for them. But in my humble opinion, that is not the goal of religion. I believe the job of religion—any religion—is to remind the person that there is something greater than themselves; Something greater than their own mind. Religion should inspire and support that person to leave their thinking mind; to join with that Something. Religion should bring that person to awe. Awe is "a strong feeling of fear, respect and also wonder."¹⁸ And those are words that in my experience are aspects of Grace.

I don't believe religion should be a comforting activity. If the technology in which I participate isn't shining light on the boogeymen that hold me back from true love; if I am not moving ahead into uncharted territory with faith; if I am not excited (joyful and scared) on my spiritual journey, then I am not on a journey to Grace.

My ego is just looking for a place to hide.