Oops, I did it again. I spent another weekend trying to find some well-meaning, but rigid Orthodox Jews to fawn over me and to spend time trying to convince me that they're right. To hold me in value just because I was born of a Jewish mother.
This time, I admitted who I was, in bits and pieces. I admitted that I was born and raised Jewish, got into Neo-Paganism in my teens, am Christian now, and go to Orthodox functions mostly out of guilt. I had to let them know. I had to fight with them just by telling them who I am, which I knew they would fight with, if only internally.
Last night, I went to someone's house for Shabbat. I showed up at the last minute, with flowers as per suggested on shabbat.com. I helped clear the table. I had to explain ,because I'd forgotten to tell her, that I am in recovery and don't drink. She asked me how long I had to do this. I said for life. I tried to make a joke about how it was like pork; one is too many, a thousand never enough. I had to explain it. She didn't think it was that funny.
I listened to a father drawing out bits of religious education his kids had received their first week at school. I was like, why did I do it again. My mind raced. I sat next to a girl, talking with her, walking her home while I had my bike alongside, to hear her convince me.
Today, I went to another house, the one I really wanted to go to. Again, I am not Orthodox. At best, I'm Reconstructionist or Renewal. I dig Jesus. The blood, the cross, the beat up image, the saints, the consumption of his body through nutrition. The sorrow and suffering and the deep joy that hides in there, that line between joy and sorrow that I tried for most of my life to run from. That line that says, sorrow and joy are each other, pain and pleasure. They go side by side and in them you can find excstacy and communion with what we call God.
I'm not sure I believe Jesus was a real person. I don't believe he would condemn people to hell. Or that it's even possible to go to hell permanently. And yet at the same time, I want to pray the rosary and ask Jesus to save all souls from the fires of hell. I don't believe the Torah was written by God any more (or less) than an ant taking a shit on the ground is God's writing. I don't believe God works that way. I believe in equality, an that God is not vengeance, sin and repentance and punishment, but love. And yet I fear deeply because I believe it when people talk about how God is gonna get me and I need to be obedient and fill my heart with thoughts punishment and judgement.
The second house was so full of love though. It just was. I don't know where I'm going but I guess it's fucking somewhere. The more I learn about Judaism, the more interesting shit keeps popping out at me. I think some of it is mental self-brainwashing. But some is interesting. I will probably go back to the second house at some point in the future.
I brain-wash myself because I'm afraid. Afraid of how much I adore men. God comes to me as a man. Terrified. I try anything escape it, the death, the torture, the horror I think awaits me in not fighting my desire to serve others, to kiss Jesus' feet, to adore some guy.
This post doesn't make too much sense, and is very personal. So personal, in fact, that I can't believe I'm posting it. But I need to add content to my blog if I'm going to get into a good financial return on my blog. Yeah, that's right. I'm in it for the Benjamins. Don't look at me like that.
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