It has been quite a while since my last post, and I’m sorry to some of my bigger fans for not providing you with the Prupe content you deserve. Even though I’m entering one of the more hectic and busy stretches of my college life, I feel like it is important for me to continue writing. And so I go.
Over winter break I had an amazing experience on my Birthright trip to Israel. For those unfamiliar with Birthright, it is an organization that provides a free, 10-day trip to Israel to adults aged 18-26 with at least one Jewish grandparent. Its purpose is to make you fall in love with the land of Israel and continue providing support once you return to your home-country. Many people decide after their visit to make Aliyah and move to Israel permanently.
I was perfectly aware that this trip would be showing only the highlights and would heavily push an Israeli agenda (they were paying for our time after all), so I approached the entire trip with a healthy dose of cynicism. However, despite my initial hesitation, I had a wonderful time bonding with fellow Jews from Austin, New York, and Israel. The Israeli Jews our age were just like us, save for the fact that they knew military secrets and could hold a plank for eight minutes.
All in all, I ended up having a great time at each location: from the mystical beauty of Tzfat to the natural allure of Masada. I deepened my friendships with my Birthright goons and with my Rabbi. He answered dozens of my questions ranging from weird sections of the Torah to the current poverty levels in Hassdic Jewish groups. My discussions with Rabbi Trepp, more than anything, impacted my decision to take a more active role in my faith and in the Austin-Jewish community.
We were in Jerusalem on Shabbat, the Jewish day of rest that starts at sunset on Friday night and ends at sundown on Saturday. Jewish law is very strict about what you can and cannot do on the Sabbath: using electricity, paying, writing, and most forms of work are prohibited in all but the most dire of situations. I decided to be shomer Shabbos at least once (might as well in the holiest city in the world). It was an amazing experience; we danced by the western wall and prayed with Jews from all over the world, and I felt an inherent kinship with people I had never met before. Although I didn’t have an epiphany or a moment of absolute clarity, that day was one of the more impactful ones in my life.
After birthright I decided to delve further into my Jewish education. I had grown up in a non-religious family that only became Jewish on weddings and Yom Kippur, so I didn’t know the reasons for a lot of Jewish kosher laws and customs. I decided to start wearing a kippah, much to the chagrin of my family (although most days I just cover it up with a baseball cap). I also began following shomer Shabbos and preparing Shabbat dinners for my friends and family. My cooking is becoming quite good if you ask anyone except my sister.
Throughout these weeks, I’ve been pretty good at balancing my life between being a student and practicing Judaism through following Shabbat, learning more about Judaism, and keeping kosher. However, there are moments when I must sacrifice one of these worlds for the other. Take for example, the religious holiday of Purim. This Jewish holiday celebrates the cunning of Esther and Mordechai which helped save the Jewish population from the deadly plans of Haman. It is an interesting Megillah passage since it doesn’t mention God once in it. Jewish scholars use this as an argument to show that God no longer performs outright miracles, but rather cleverly crafts events to follow his ultimate plan.
And that’s the problem. God has never spoken to me, never showed himself by coming out behind a curtain of a modern-day miracle. Science and the transparency of information have led us to believe that all miracles are cons, and it is harder for many to hold on to their faith due to the lack of solid evidence.
On Purim one is required to get drunk. It is the one night a year where we are supposed to drink until we cannot think straight. The only problem was that the day after I had two midterms. One Rabbi told me that I should choose to celebrate Purim, and use the religious accommodation policy to try to reschedule my tests. The idea of it made me laugh. I’m a student first.
When school assignments were getting hectic last week, I had to break my rule for not working on Shabbat to pull an all-nighter on an assignment. God’s continued silence makes it hard for me to choose following his rules in place of finishing my research and class projects. That isn’t to say that I’ve stopped following all religious practices (yesterday I observed Shabbat and I still wear a kippah), but school and work take precedence.
Modern influential Rabbis believe that the Messiah will soon arrive because we as Jews have strayed too far from the teachings of the Torah and the Talmud. And we have strayed. The Patriarchs of the Jewish faith sacrificed and were willing to sacrifice so much for God. When God asked Abraham to sacrifice his son, he was willing to do so despite his great sorrow. Meanwhile I’m here not willing to sacrifice an A on one assignment. The difference, however, is that God has not directly asked me to do those things. All I’m left with are stories of his words and miracles.
Maybe I’m acting irrationally by holding on to the Jewish faith but not committing to it wholeheartedly. I still need time to process what I truly believe. But for now, I am certain of my priorities.
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It was pitch black in the desert when my friend Joseph and I snuck out of our Bedouin tents on the seventh day of Birthright. We walked for a while until we were encompassed by the star-sprinkled sky and an occasional scraggly bush by our feet. “You know what?” I said to him, “if that bush right there would burst into flames, I would instantly become a believer and would follow all the Jewish laws.” He replied back, “Yeah there’s zero chance of that happening, but I’d do the same.” We stared at it for a minute. The bush was absolutely still. God remains silent.