My Story 2

After my Bar Mitzvah in 1962, I had ambivalent feelings about my Jewishness. I had a strong sense of the reality and presence of G-d, but could not relate that to the Judaism of my parents and my friends' parents. We kept (sort of) kosher at home. but not outside the home. No one I knew had ever read the Torah, except for brief excerpts. We were taught that these strange immigrants who had come from Eastern Europe after the Holocaust, with their beards, pe'ot,and strange dress, were in no way like us. When being polite, we called them refugees. When not in mixed company, they were derisively called "Mockees". We were American Jews, We KNEW BETTER. Hey, our families were here since the first decade of the twentieth century! Yet, at Hebrew School, we were taught exactly as the "Mockees" were doing. That we were receiving mixed messages would be an understatement. Being Jewish was something to be proud of, but not to be observed. If the "Goyyim" see us being outwardly observant, that would lessen our acceptance as Americans. So, were we supposed to be proud of being Jews, or ashamed? My older brother assured me that Judaism was merely "an organized persecution complex". The Eichmann trial, which had taken place the previous year, created more complex feelings. On the one hand, many of my non-Jewish classmates expressed feelings of sympathy. But many less sympathetic people mocked us for going like lambs to the slaughter. I, and many others, felt uneasy about the entire topic. During Winter vacation that year, I saw the movie "Exodus". Sure, it didn't even mention G-d or religion. But it was about Jews fighting for survival in a hostile world. They were not apologizing for their existence, but fighting for it. My imagination began racing. The first thing I did was to read the novel "Exodus". It contained many points of Jewish history of which I was unaware. I raided our public library, devouring every book I could find about Jews and Judaism. My quest was partly religious, and partly an attempt to figure out my identity. We had an English translation of the Torah at home. I read and reread it. I tried to follow what it said, but wound up totally confused as to how to apply various verses. My brother would often derisively call me "Moses". I  had little experience going to synagogue, and what experience I had, was not positive; Hebrew prayers were recited in a perfunctory manner with no explanation other than "this is what we do". This frenzied search for information, with no guidance, or even a sense of direction, continued for about a year. Then, an acquaintance of my father suggested to him that he have me join a Zionist youth group. As most Zionist groups are secular, he recommended Bnei Akiva, identified with Israel's Mizrachi/National Religious Party. There was a local branch about 4 blocks away. I showed up there one Shabbat in the Fall of 1963. I approached the leader, and told him that I was interested in Zionism and Judaism. I said that I believed in G-d, but would never do anything fanatic, like put on Tefillin. (I now wear three pair). Rather than rebuff me, he invited me to join. Very wisely, he assigned a young man my own age to spend an hour with me each Shabbat, explaining Judaism to me. (That young man is now the Assistant Director of the OU Center in Jerusalem). The members of Bnei Akiva were all from Modern Orthodox families and attended Day Schools. The emphasis was clearly Israel, but with a spiritual interpretation of Zionism, which I would later learn is anathema to most Israelis. For most of the members, I was the first baal teshuvah (newly Orthodox) they had ever met, as the Teshuvah Movement was still four years in the future. Many invited me to their homes, and I began to see how Judaism was practiced. A half a block away was another youth group, Pirchei. It was identified with a more right-wing Orthodox approach, and had what seemed to me a strange approach to Zionism. They were against Zionism, yet believed in living in Israel. They were more dedicated to study than Bnei Akiva, and were horrified that our events had boys and girls together. From time to time, older Pirchei members would come into our meeting place, and rebuke us for our laxity. There was considerable animosity between the two groups, that I was unable to understand. Only many years later would I learn that, in their zeal for Truth, most Orthodox Jews are quick to dismiss what they see as untruth, even if likewise Orthodox. I was totally unaware that two and a half blocks away was the world center of Chabad Hasidism. I had never even heard of it. But that situation was not destined to last long.