Sure, I went to Sunday School and Hebrew School on Monday and Wednesday nights after my day at public school. But once I'd had my Bat Mitzvah, I quit. Well, I left. Because I decided I didn't want to go as far as Confirmation. I had no idea what Confirmation was, except it meant three more years of Hebrew School and Sunday School and I already didn't like it that much. I was already in French Immersion (until I was in Grade 7 and we moved away from the school). I didn't want to learn Hebrew anymore. All I could do anyway was read (but not understand) Hebrew and ask how to go to the bathroom. And that was after four or five years of weekly Hebrew lessons.
My family observed all the important holidays - Rosh Hashanah, Yom Kippur, Passover, and my favorite, Chanukah. Because... presents. We got together with my mom's side where I had a multitude of cousins all either my age or close to my age. We were all within 4 years of each other, and my dad's side, where my youngest cousin is 10 years my senior. Sure, I have great memories of the holidays with my family, but the memories are about time spent with family, not the traditions or the reasons behind the holidays. I mean, realistically, there's no reason we couldn't just get together and have dinner without all the mumbo jumbo of prayers and such (for Passover).
As I got older, I moved a bit further away from my faith. My sister didn't go to Hebrew School so she wasn't going to have a Bat Mitzvah, and once I'd had mine, my parents canceled our membership to the synagogue and we never set foot in a synagogue other than for weddings, funerals (which are rarely at synagogues, but sometimes) and the odd Bar or Bat Mitzvah as my cousins grew up. For a short time, in College, when I was doing a paper on "Death and Dying in Judaism" for my class called "Death and Dying" (I was in a medical office program and the course was designed to prepare us for the reality that we could have patients in the offices we may work in that were dying and that we may have become attached to over the years). I interviewed a Rabbi I knew somewhat and somehow wound up joining the synagogue by myself. I had family friends who were members, so when I went to services, I went with them. But that only lasted about a year when I realized I was spending money to go three times a year, as when I grew up. I tried to join a few of the programs offered, but I was a twenty-something kid and most of the things I was interested in were either during the day or populated by much older women. So, I canceled my membership.
In 1999, I met my husband, and so I started going to services with his family. They, too, even though their synagogue is a Conservative Movement synagogue, are three day Jews. They only go for the High Holy Days. The Rabbi at the time was an Orthodox Rabbi, so that was interesting. When I started attending services with his family, women were not allowed on the bimah (dias), and could not read from the Torah. That's changed in the intervening years, but that was a bit of a surprise to me, because, at my old Temple, women read from the Torah, on the bimah - I mean, I'd had my Bat Mitzvah and I read from the Torah.
Not only were women not allowed up on the bimah (except to say one or two specific prayers - for Canada and for Israel and the IDF), but most of the service was in Hebrew, they didn't have a choir and the congregation was made up of so many old people. There weren't any programs for twentysomethings and attendance (according to my husband's family, not the synagogue's rules) was mandatory. Somehow, though, their older brother kept getting out of showing up.
After my husband and I were married, we decided we didn't really want to go to services at his parents' synagogue because the drive and parking in the area were insane. We'd have to park two blocks away after fighting traffic all the way down either Dufferin or Bathurst Streets. We decided to try a few of our local synagogues, but even then we didn't find one that really fit. There was the Temple (who didn't have a building, so held High Holy Day services in a banquet hall nearby) that had a very young congregation, so that seemed like it might be a fit. It wasn't. Not for any specific reason. My husband didn't like the services because they were vastly different from what he grew up with. I was just annoyed by the hassle of going to synagogue.
Which is why it's funny that I wound up experimenting with orthodoxy several years later. It came about when a friend of mine, younger than myself, died suddenly from, maybe? the flu. I wound up searching for 'meaning'. And my friends and I had started taking Hebrew lessons together, and we also talked about other aspects of Judaism. We were all also members of the same Jewish women's group and we had programs with women who would come and teach us about different aspects of Jewish life and Judaism from a women's perspective.
So, in the turmoil of burying a friend and trying to understand the world, I thought I wanted to be more religious, observant, and orthodox. I attended an orthodox synagogue that was within walking distance of the house - because when you're orthodox, you don't drive to synagogue on Saturday mornings. It was a very welcoming synagogue, housed in an old house. When services started in the morning, there was always a woman who would help me find my place in the prayer book, explain to me when the rabbi would perform certain parts in a certain way, and help me not look like a complete fool. I wore the uniform - long skirts, covering to my ankles, long-sleeved shirts at least past my elbows, and my hair was covered. Looking back, I'm glad I never sprung for a wig and stuck to scarves. Much cheaper to get rid of later on, and keep the ones I wanted for other uses. I had some really cute scarves.
I also tried keeping kosher. Believe me. It is not easy to tell your seven-year-olds that they can no longer have mac and cheese and hot dogs unless the hot dogs are soy. And no more meat lasagna. Or cheeseburgers, or tacos. Or steak and mashed potatoes, because I make those with milk and sour cream.
This experiment lasted about a year and a half. Maybe two years. My family was frustrated but incredibly patient. I'd traveled to Israel, and fell in love with the country. Met incredible people, went to classes at the rabbi's house where we learned different aspects of the Torah, and how the portion of the week related to today's world. It really wasn't so bad. And because my kids go to public school, I would drive them to birthday parties on Saturdays without a complaint. I just wouldn't drive if there wasn't any reason to. I tried to limit their use of electronics on Saturdays and would spend the day, myself, reading, and relaxing.
But that all changed when I was looking for a new job and my mom pointed out my orthodoxy might be a deterrent. Even though I was applying at Jewish workplaces. Then I got a raging ear infection that really made covering my hair impossible. It hurt so much. I was practically deaf since both ears were completely clogged up with the infection. So I stopped covering my hair. And about that time I found out that my husband had been breaking the rules about keeping kosher in the house, so there went that. And there were always bacon cheeseburgers. Not like everyone was always eating bacon cheeseburgers around me but, like, I like bacon cheeseburgers.
And so, there went my experiment with Orthodox Jewry. I stopped wearing long skirts, went back to jeans and t-shirts. Back to going out Friday nights and sleeping in Saturday mornings. Back to Taco Tuesdays and lasagna with beef. And bacon.
I wouldn't call it a failed experiment. At the time I felt I had a better understanding and appreciation for my faith.
But life throws curveballs all the time and my family found itself dealing with my uncle's lung cancer diagnosis and subsequent death. And my ex-uncle (my other aunt's ex-husband) dying suddenly after a stroke that he seemed to be recovering from, only to very suddenly... not.
And I asked, how can there be a god that would allow good people like my family to suffer.
Around this time, too, I met a new friend who is an atheist. He would challenge my beliefs. Always in an intelligent way and never condescending. But he already had me questioning. Why did we do certain things in our religion? What was I really getting out of my faith? And if there is a god, and he can do things like cure blind people, then why doesn't he just cure blindness?
It was then I realized, I didn't believe in god. In any god. That I thought I did, but it wasn't god I was seeking. It was answers to questions that I didn't even know how to ask. Or questions that really didn't have an answer beyond "because god said so". That wasn't good enough. Why does god get to decide that my uncle is better off 'in heaven' than with us? Why, if god is so great, did someone like Mother Teresa feel that her followers could suffer for the greater good, but her suffering needed to be treated in a full-service hospital. Why do children starve if there's a god? What kind of god causes children across the world from me to suffer starvation and drought while my suffering is generally limited to whether or not I can afford a vacation? I started questioning everything I had believed in.
To be fair, I still have a better understanding of faith. I just don't believe that there is a god. How can the Jewish god be the right god? Why does my Christian friend think that even though I'm a good person, that I'm going to hell because I don't believe in Jesus Christ? Why do the Muslims believe their god is the right god when, if you believe in the Abrahamic philosophy, it's the same god?
This wasn't a snap decision. It came from thought and questioning. From thinking and debating. And learning. I read books by prominent atheists. I subscribed to podcasts suggested to me by my friend, and then suggested to me by those podcasts. I read websites and looked into different groups. I'm still learning. I'm still thinking and I'm still questioning. I don't identify as agnostic because that is a question of the existence of god. I don't believe there is a god. At least, I have not seen any compelling evidence of the existence of any gods.
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