Tiferet's Splendor

     Looking for article on Haaretz about Jews with tattoos (we have many in Israel),  I was astonished to come across an article whose author's unique name I know personally.  Having gone to yeshiva here in Jerusalem with her brother more than ten years ago, I spent a shabbat by his large, warm, religious family.  Furthermore, it was an experience I won't forget because it was revealed that both her parents have the same same birthday, which happens to be mine as well.  Tiferet Peterseil has penned a fantastic account of one Jew's struggle within.
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I, heretic    
Blogger Tiferet Peterseil wonders: Have I lost my right to believe in God, because I challenge His laws?

The writing on the sukkah wall
By Tiferet Peterseil

I have always struggled with the fact that there are aspects of religion I can't relate to. Things I don't necessarily keep. But, while I may not think it's quite "chutzpah" to pick and choose what to adhere to, I can't get rid of those old-time guilt feelings on which I was raised.

Let me ask you: Do I have the right to recite the blessing on wine Friday night, if I turn on lights on Shabbat?

Is it making a mockery of religion to wash my hands before eating bread if I don't recite the blessings after the meal?

If someone asks me if I'm religious, am I obliged to answer "no" just because I ignore certain, okay MAJOR aspects of religion?

Am I officially a "heretic"? Have I lost my right to be part of the religious community, to believe in God, because I challenge His laws?

I ask these questions regularly, but this past Yom Kippur, they carried extra weight. I was 23 hours into the fast, and counting, but nervous that perhaps I wasn't fasting for the right reasons.

Was I being two-faced? How dare I keep the holiest day of the year when I made little effort to keep so many simpler, more mundane commandments?

As I staggered, light-headed, to my local synagogue, my heart was heavy.

I was determined to hear the final shofar blowing, the sound that would signal "times up! The envelope please! And the verdict is ?."

My stomach churned, and not just from hunger. It had been a while since I had entered a synagogue, and I was worried that the regulars would realize I didn't really belong.

Would they smirk as I entered and mutter under their breaths, "Oh, sure, now all of a sudden she's religious!"

I recalled my walk the night before along the deserted streets of Tel Aviv, shortly after the fast had begun. Was everyone really fasting or were they secretly eating in their apartments and watching videos?

The normally busy, bustling streets of Tel Aviv, were silent.

But the city that never sleeps was still wide awake. As though following a silent pied piper, a swarm of bicycles suddenly appeared from every street, ally and road. Thousands of mountain bikes, speed bikes, and two-wheel clunkers created a symphony of silent pedlars spinning their wheels.

This must be what China is like, I thought. There were entire families riding together, doll-like toddlers pushing their bimbas and young children weaving down the streets on their training wheels. There were the "singles", dressed in the latest sports-gear, racing swiftly into the night, and care-free students pedaling in sync with their over-eager mutts.

Then came the teen-packs: The Jocks who bicycled in from Herzliya looking for some Hot Chicks. The Nerds who kept squinting behind thick glasses, stopping now and then to adjust one of their half-dozen bottles of water they wore, just in case a drought hit on Yom Kippur.

The Hot Chicks finally made their appearance - beautiful girls, dressed in tight jean shorts and bright tank-tops, hoping the Jocks were watching. The Skin Heads weren't far behind, their shirtless bodies proudly displaying tattoos and body piercings that seemed almost natural under their tribal mohawks. There was even a gang of Filipino kids riding bikes at least two sizes too small for them.

So much variety. So many differences. But they easily mingled together, and even made room for the religious Jews rushing to Kol Nidrei, and for the slightly less religious engaged in timid courting. We all crossed paths in Kikar Rabin, like sheep being counted by their Shepherd.

As I entered the courtyard of the synagogue, I felt like the black sheep among the flock. But as I looked around me I saw - a rainbow of white. Young couples and their children, grandparents, teenagers, the extremely religious, and the extremely secular, all dressed - like me - in shades of white.

Surely, all these people didn't belong to the same religion, let alone believe in the same God? Were they all as tired and hungry as I was? And were they all forcing themselves to hear the final blast of the shofar as was I?

I believe most people are constantly searching to find their place in the world. They want their special niche in the family, among their friends, their community, their partner, and especially, especially their God. But the problem is: How do we get God to notice us? How do I become holy to God?

And then I saw it. Written on the wall of the Synagogue: "Veshachanty betoch bney Yisrael" - And I will reside among the Children of Israel.

Those words resonated in me. Did all these people already know what I just discovered?

God is in us.

Years ago the nation of Israel may have chosen to accept God but we weren't the only ones who made a choice. God then chose us to reside in. God is part of us, both as a nation, and as individuals.

From some recess in my mind I suddenly remembered a sentence in the Torah that in years past I had ignored. "And the Children of Israel traveled from Ramses to Sukkos..."

A nation of 2-3 million Jews put their Faith in God and followed him blindly, uprooting themselves and their families. They were content to live in simple huts, in Sukkot. And, in turn, God provided His people with protective clouds, beneath their feet and above their heads.

Ah... But things were simpler then. You didn't need to make your own way. If you followed Moshe you followed Judaism. If he lived in a Sukkah for seven days, so did you.

I remember a Rabbi once said to me, "Had Moshe been around today, if he would see our Shabbatot, if he would see how many "chumras" (stringencies) our rabbis have instituted even in the building of a Sukkah; if he would hear our zmiros and taste our Glatt Kosher food, he would turn and say 'What religion are you all practicing'?"

No question, our Rabbis have done a great job in preserving the traditions and laws brought down on Mt. Sinai. They have enhanced "the Jewish experience". But for those of us who have not been able to keep up with the pace of things, for those of us who yearn for a simpler Judaism, we still have the right to fast on Yom Kippur, to build a sukkah, and to keep what we feel are the "basics" even if some people think that's hypocrisy. At end of the day, we're all welcome and wanted in the sukkah. Why? Just because God is in us.

So I entered the Sukkah this year with a sense of pride. I'm still, like many others, searching for my path, but I'm not as lost as I thought. As it turns out, while I was searching for God far and wide, his still, small voice was inside me all along.

Chag Sameach ________________________________________________________
More of Tiferet Peterseil's writings can be seen on her blog TIFERETING!-Tiferets Weekly Blog.