The revolving door of religion: My journey into Judaism
As I see more and more people walking away from religion, I can’t help but reflect on my own journey into it. Somehow the more I tried to walk away from Judaism, the more the flow of life would seemingly bring me closer towards it. I thought I was walking away from it towards my spirituality when in fact I was stepping into a revolving door that would lead me to the most unexpected of places.
The unlikely love story between my Cleveland-born-and-raised father with the last name Church and my Moroccan-Jewish-Immigrant mother named Lydicia set the stage for my role in this story. They decided to raise their kids, my 3 siblings, in a Jewish household. When I was younger I more or less went through the motions. I felt drawn towards studying for my bar mitzvah, because I liked the structure, the songs, the routine, and it was just kinda what you did. I dreaded the enforced Shabbat dinners as it meant not going out with my friends and staying in for family dinners on Friday nights. After my bar mitzvah, I stopped going to synagogue completely. By the time I got to college, I was prepared to leave my Jewish identity in the past. I almost felt ashamed of it at times, not bringing up my religion when people asked. It was easier that way. Religion began to feel jaded, like an old institution that was the source of a lot of conflict, war, and uncomfortable conversations – especially as it relates to Israel and the Jews.
Some time through college I began to find my own connection to spirituality, and awaken to the awe-some forces of the universe. I drifted further and further from Judaism. Naturally, it seemed to solidify a different direction entirely, a fork in the road of sorts. I explored things like meditation, yoga, reading, philosophical conversations, among other various experiences which deepened my connection to self and the world around me. The deeper I took that practice, the more I came alive, and the further I left Judaism in the rear view mirror. So it seemed.
Then in the small town of Oxford, Ohio where I was studying in college, a Chabad Rabbi, Rabbi Yossi Greenberg, found me on Facebook and invited me over to Passover seder. Thinking I could earn some Jewish-mother-guilt points, I grabbed the only other couple of Jewish people I knew at school and we headed over for a home cooked meal and to “check the box.” Certainly not forgetting to send our mothers a photo.
“When the student is ready, the teacher appears.” My first teacher came in the form of a jolly bearded Rabbi who shared one thing with me that challenged my entire notion of faith, belief, religion, and Judaism. In a conversation with him, I spoke candidly about my doubts with the G-d of Judaism, the issues with dogmatic practices of the religion, and how irrelevant it feels in today’s world. I expected that would be the last time I would be over at the Chabad house because of such divergent thinking, but was surprised when the spirited man looked directly at me and said, “You know Joshua, the G-d you believe in, I don’t believe in either.” He went on to explain, “Everything you think you know about Judaism is just the elementary 1+1=2 version. The real Judaism, the G-d I believe in, has profound depths and complexity to the likes of calculus. If you’d like to dip your toes in, I can show you.”
Though calculus was my worst subject and everything was telling me to walk away, I was thoroughly intrigued. I thought that my expressive views would not be welcomed, but I experienced the opposite. Conversation and debate was encouraged. Rather, essential. Slowly, my assumptions of religion began to be deeply challenged. Maybe there was more than meets the surface to this religion and Jewish thing. We started by meeting up once a week for coffee to do a little Torah learning together, exploring deeper concepts and meanings behind stories I grew up thinking that I knew. Each week the Torah portion we would cover would lead to a little nugget that I didn’t know I needed and could be applied to a specific situation going on in my life. At first I found it coincidental, then purely spectacular. I began to develop a “think-Jewish” perspective and would find myself asking, WWRD – “What Would The Rabbi Do?”
What began as dipping my toes in with Rabbi Yossi quickly evolved to ripping backflips off of the high dive in the deep end of the pool.
Over six years and many cups of coffee, phone conversations, and teachers later, I wanted to share six ideas about Judaism that have pulled me deeper down this cosmic rabbit hole of profound realization, deep soul fulfillment, inspiring learnings, and practical implementations that have shaped the man I have become.
>> We Are Against All Odds
The fact that we as a Jewish people are still around today, is nothing short of a miracle. Being a Jew means believing in miracles, because our very history and existence is miraculous. Mark Twain summed it up perfectly when he wrote the following –
“If the statistics are right, the Jews constitute but one quarter of one percent of the human race. It suggests a nebulous puff of star dust lost in the blaze of the Milky Way. Properly, the Jew ought hardly to be heard of, but he is heard of, has always been heard of. He is as prominent on the planet as any other people, and his importance is extravagantly out of proportion to the smallness of his bulk.
His contributions to the world’s list of great names in literature, science, art, music, finance, medicine and abstruse learning are also very out of proportion to the weakness of his numbers. He has made a marvelous fight in this world in all ages; and has done it with his hands tied behind him. He could be vain of himself and be excused for it. The Egyptians, the Babylonians and the Persians rose, filled the planet with sound and splendor, then faded to dream-stuff and passed away; the Greeks and Romans followed and made a vast noise, and they were gone; other people have sprung up and held their torch high for a time but it burned out, and they sit in twilight now, and have vanished.
The Jew saw them all, survived them all, and is now what he always was, exhibiting no decadence, no infirmaties of age, no weakening of his parts, no slowing of his energies, no dulling of his alert but aggressive mind. All things are mortal but the Jews; all other forces pass, but he remains. What is the secret of his immortality?”
As the aphorism goes – “If you want a new idea, read an old book.” There’s got to be SOMETHING going on here. How have we remained? Maybe there is something to this old book of simple stories, after all. What is the secret? I began my search to find out.
>> The Source of Radical Goodness
Where better to begin than understanding our people’s history. Studying it in context is enlightening. The biggest takeaway that rocked me is the fact that the modern ideas of goodness, oneness, morality, justice, treating people with respect, all come from the Torah. When the Jews introduced these concepts into the pagan world, they were absolutely radical then and would remain radical throughout history. A man named Adolf Hitler acknowledged that “conscience is a Jewish invention” and felt that the Jews brought ideals to the humanity that combatted the pagan views the Nazis wanted the world to return to. Our perceptions, decisions, and actions in context to the way the rest of the world was operating were certainly bold to say the least. In today’s day and age, The 10 Commandments seem so simple, an integral thread of the fabric of our human race. I figured this was a universal truth that we were just born with but learning that it was our ancestors who introduced this concept to the world and fought for this truth to become such common sense is utterly inspiring.
>>The Tribe, The Tribe, The Tribe
That I was born into this tribe of humans, this lineage of people who have stood the test of time and introduced such powerful ideas for our humanity’s evolution leaves me unfathomably grateful. I sincerely thank G-d every day that I was born into this birthright. This global community. Everywhere you go, there you’ll find your fellow Jews. Perhaps it’s through the persecutions of time that we were forced to form such a strong familial bond and community to keep us thriving. When I was traveling in Cuba, I stumbled into a synagogue on Shabbat and sang the same prayers in Hebrew arm in arm with “random strangers” and had a spot at the Shabbat table feeling at home. Going on a Birthright trip to Israel with two of my Jewish friends also changed the game. Connecting with the holy land and other young Jews from around the world shifted my sense of identity. Shabbat in Jerusalem surely hits different! I’ll never forget feeling the palpable energy and tangible vibrations piercing from the Western Wall when we approached it for the first time in prayer. Feeling a surge of energy which moved me to emotion, I turned back from the Wall only to see my two best friends also experiencing the same thing being moved with emotion. Some moments you just can’t explain and don’t care to. The aftershock of connectivity to my land, my tribe, and my ancestors that I felt remains to this day. From that point forward, instead of avoiding identifying as a Jew or skirting around conversation, I proudly began to share my rich heritage and traditions. I started wearing my Star of David necklace outside of my shirt, and wanted to find ways to tap into this energy on a more consistent basis.
>> The Gift of Shabbat
Shabbat always seemed archaic to me when I saw my religious cousins observing it. You mean to tell me that it makes sense to unplug and not do anything for an entire day of the week? No TV? No cars? No phones? Today, I genuinely consider Shabbat to be one of the biggest blessings in my life. It adds a necessary order and rhythm to the week. I started hosting Shabbat dinners with roommates in Los Angeles when I lived there, and it quickly became the most desired social event of our group over the 4 years to follow. We literally had people that would willingly turn away parties, concerts, and other plans to join us for Shabbat. We’d join hands in prayer, sing songs, share delicious food, drink wine, and sit around the table for hours on end. It was a chance to disconnect to reconnect to what’s important, unplugging from the noise of the world around us to be present with each other. The rawness and authenticity of conversations that flowed at that table provided some of the most memorable and life changing times for so many of us. Connecting to ourselves and others in that real way is needed now more than ever and the way that it became a staple and friends gravitated towards it was the only evidence I needed. I started observing Shabbat on Saturday as an experiment, and now it’s cornerstone to my life. Doing a 24 hour digital detox from work, phone, and my computer provides me with the rest, recovery, presence, and connection I need to work as hard as I do during the week. In fact, I’ve had many friends who are not Jewish that have seen what it brings to me and have started implementing the 24 hour digital detox for their own mental health and well-being. Somehow, this book written 4000 years ago knew! A commandment that wore the disguise of a being a chore was really a blessing.
>> “Finding” Purpose
I quit my first job out of college a year and a half in to go follow my bliss and travel the world. Despite early warnings from my mother, I felt that I needed to go find myself so I did what all the cool kids were doing and strapped on a backpack and hopped on a one-way flight to Southeast Asia. I thought the answers would just appear. In reality, I returned back several months later surely rich with life experience and amazing memories – but still feeling the same gap in my life. Only this time I had burned through my savings and now needed to find a job. Upon returning, a conversation with my Rabbi on a park bench shifted even more perspective. I came to the realization that I was not lost. I didn’t need to find myself. As long as would try to “find myself,” I would just be searching. The “think Jewish” perspective is that everyone and everything serves a purpose, or else it wouldn’t exist. Rather than finding myself, I can create myself through the way I choose to act each and everyday. Finding purpose doesn't have to be some grand spiritual realization or romanticized process to bring you clarity and salvation. It can be a daily practice. That we are judged not based on what we may believe, but by the effect of our actions is the core of Judaism which began to resonate with me on a practical level that other ideas had not. Enlightenment doesn’t happen in solitude meditating on a mountain top – it happens in the every day hustle and bustle of life. It’s our mission to bring the divine into the mundane by enlightening our actions. Daily life can be the most spiritual practice of all. It’s the practice of expressing our divinity and god-spark within each of us through conquering worldly temptations and humanly pursuits. Bringing G-d with us as we co-creae together with a higher power. It’s not what we say, it’s how we act. How we do one thing is how we do all things. Do it with intention. Do it with purpose. Live life on purpose. These were among the the many messages from our sages that were right in front of me waiting for me to be ready to open my eyes.
>> Trusting the Process
A belief is just a thought you get really good at thinking. One of the thoughts that has strengthened to an unshakeable belief is that things happen for me, not to me. You can’t connect the dots looking forward, only looking backward. We don’t know how something seemingly “bad” can lead to something good while it’s unfolding, only with hindsight. The idea that G-d is loving and good and cares for us is central to Judaism and was again unique to the world. The Chassidic masters teach that by merely trusting that there is a potent kernel of good hidden in the pain, we begin to disassemble the screen that veils it. We can only trust the process if we believe there is a G-d force that cares about us. This took on a new meaning when I recently had to put the “cone of shame” onto my dog after she was healing from having a surgery on her paw. You could see how absolutely painful it was for her – and for me – that I didn’t have the words to tell her that it was in fact for her own good, for her healing, and she would soon see in time. I believe that when we feel the “cone of shame” on us in our life, it is placed there by a well intending-owner, a partner in creation, who has our best interest. We just might not understand. So we must open up with faith, and trust. Building this trust has made all the difference for me.
To this day, 6 years later, Rabbi Yossi and I have continued the tradition of weekly Torah Talks. The deeper we seemingly go, the more I feel like we are just scratching at the surface. There’s so much here for us. I am following the pull to dive deeper and deeper and plan on studying in Jerusalem this summer at Aish HaTorah to strengthen my understanding and give my full focus to learning the wisdom of our people.
The fork in the road became an illusion. Rather than feeling like my spirituality was one direction and Judaism was the other, I became open to the idea that they might be the same path. I didn’t expect that I’d come to believe that the very path to spirituality, insight, wisdom, and fulfillment that I was seeking directly runs through Judaism for me.
“Who is a wise man? He who learns from everyone.” – Ethics of our Fathers. Follow your curiosity. It only takes one conversation with one person to completely change your perception and life. If you happen to be born into this Jewish lineage, perhaps it’s not by coincidence and there’s a reason for it. I challenge you to challenge your assumptions about Judaism and explore it a level deeper. Maybe there’s something for you past the 1+1=2 understanding you currently have. You might find out you actually have a passion for Calculus.
All you have to do is dip your toes in.
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Here are a few resources and potentially great starting points to see what might resonate with you. I’ve found these all particularly useful in my journey.