Aggrandizing the Holocaust to a Fault

Throughout my studies at UNC Charlotte, I took every Holocaust course that was offered. I even turned non-Holocaust related courses into Holocaust courses. I know a lot, but I also have a lot to learn. We all do. A subject like the Holocaust always has something different to say, in different contexts, experiences, first hand accounts, what got written into the history books, what has been forgotten and the 12 million stories that we will never know. The interpretation of events is ever growing, even though our Survivors and unrecorded first hand accounts are dwindling. That being said, one of my biggest pet peeves is becoming increasingly apparent. Aggrandizing the Holocaust to near mythic status has begun to portray everything associated with it, as beyond the realm of reality.

It hit me last night, and it hit me hard. I was sitting there in an open forum, listening to people and their thoughts on the Holocaust. What I heard, from a group of Jewish congregants, truly scared me. Many Jews have been raised on the stories of their family losses and the personal atrocities that occurred during the Shoah. I had to learn it. For me the Holocaust always has been, and always will be a very real, tangible history, and I take “Never Forget” as seriously as serious can be. Not to say that it is not for others, but it seems often times that people take the Holocaust to such heights, that they forget the reality of it. It was a historical event and a part of who the Jewish people are at their very core, literally. My Senior Thesis was “Mental Distress and Physical Health Ramifications in Offspring of Holocaust Survivors.” I have studied how generations down the line have been affected by the Holocaust, and their Parents, Grand Parents and even Great Grandparents experiences.

I think the Memorial to the Murdered Jews of Europe in Berlin, is the closest I have come to offering a tangible experience to the mind set necessary to comprehending the Holocaust. My Psychology-self tells me that people shy away from the historical evidence and photos. The memorial in Berlin throws you into it. If you have ever been there, you know all of this, but if not, it is an expansive memorial. You can enter from any direction, but from the street, it appears to be rows, and rows of stone columns, all pretty level. Upon entering the memorial, and as you get closer and closer to the center, you realize the memorial is beyond what can be perceived from the street. The paths are winding, the columns block out the light. It is a disorienting experience, beautiful in its construction, but terrifying in what it represents, and how.

Not every account of the Holocaust ends in tragedy, but for every one that did not, there are hundreds, thousands, even hundreds of thousands that did. It is hard to comprehend what 12 million people looks like. It is hard to imagine what 6 million Jewish people looks like. It is even harder to contemplate 2.5 million Jewish children led to slaughter. The Holocaust was a very real thing. The atrocities suffered by the Jews of Europe and beyond were very real experiences, with impact far beyond World War II. The stories are not the things of fictional movies. They have no true beginning and virtually no end. The Holocaust does not make sense. It cannot be defined in terms of a story line, or a movie plot. Like the memorial in Berlin, the entire history of the Shoah is disorienting. We should be teaching the realities of the Holocaust, genocide and the offenses against human rights. Lifting the Holocaust to near mythic status in order to show its influence on the world, and the Jewish people, is having the adverse effect. It is placing the Holocaust beyond comprehension. It is turning a very real history into nothing more than a story to tell, a movie to make, or another fictional book to write.  It is a disgrace to all of the suffering. “Never Forget” means just what it says. Remember the atrocities, the unfathomable experiences, the carnage and death. Make sure it never happens again. Turning it all into a simple story made to fit into the construct of a relatable story line is not only unfair, but a slap in the face to all the suffering and an event that literally ended with the loss of 2/3 of  European Jewry, or 1/3 of the world Jewish population.

 

 

“The Pin” written and directed by Naomi Jaye

About a week, or so, ago I came across a post on Temple Emanuel’s Facebook page. They are the local Reform Temple in Greensboro, and I believe the oldest in the area. They actually have an exhibit in the Greensboro History Museum. It was advertising the showing of this film, The Pin. Of course, I had to see it. It was just an added bonus that the film was completely in Yiddish! It added to the context of this film, and made it a little more accurate, in terms of context and location. I really don’t want to give away any spoilers in case anybody wants to see it, so I will try to keep it as short as possible!

In short, the film follows an elderly man, who is a Shomer at a hospital. A Shomer, in this context, is someone responsible for making sure that the body of someone who has died will not be defiled or disrespected in any way. The film, successfully might I add, has little dialogue. We are constantly jumping in time between the elderly Shomer gentleman in a hospital, and a young couple who happen to find each other while hiding from the Nazis, in an abandoned barn. After what appears to be a long night of praying, falling asleep and snacking, the Shomer is asked if he will stay another night, with another body. He agrees. Without revealing how, the Shomer comes to realize that he knows this person. We skip back to the couple in the barn, them getting to know one another, growing close, and their back stories.

The film is absolutely beautiful. The Yiddish sets the tone. The imagery pulls you into the film. I would highly suggest if you can see the movie, please go see it. I am not sure, how, when, where, or who is showing, I just happened on it by chance! Look it up!

 

The Krakow Niggun and my trip to Poland

Temple Or Olam, my home congregation, had a wonderful Shabbaton a few weekends ago. Our Institute of Southern Jewish Life Intern was there and helped put the whole thing together. Most of the time I drive down to Charlotte for Friday night services and then return to Greensboro. That is almost three hours of driving, for about an hour of service, but I love every minute of it! I was thrilled to find out that we would have an entire weekend of events. Unfortunately, I was only able to make it to Friday night services. Upon my return to Greensboro I had car issues and I was out of commission for the rest of the weekend…Oy! Kabbalat Shabbat was beautiful. Our Intern had the wonderful idea of a sports themed Shabbat. Our order of service was like that of a football game. Warm-up, first half, half time and so on. It was brilliant!  Somewhere in there, he threw in the Krakow Niggun. For those of you who don’t know what a niggun is, it is a melody, a prayer that extends beyond words. It often incorporates repetitive sounds like dai-dai-dai, or bim bam, bim, bim, bim-bam. They are beautiful!

Our Intern tells us that throughout his travels to different congregations across the country, he often picks up different aspects that he enjoys and incorporates them into his services with other temples. One of those is the Krakow Niggun. He tells us the story of a Temple where he is helping lead a Shabbat service, and the Rabbi is telling a story about her travels in Poland. They are in historic Krakow and it is Friday night. The group she is with gathers around as they usher in Shabbat. The group starts singing the Krakow Niggun. A passer-by, a native of Krakow stops in bewilderment as he hears the tune. He approaches the group and proceeds to get emotional. He tells them he has not heard that melody in over 60 years, alluding to the fact that he had not heard it since before the Holocaust. He makes the Rabbi promise that she would continue to spread the Krakow Niggun and once again give life to it. So she did. She taught it to our Intern, and he has taught it to our congregation, as well as many others in his travels.

As he was singing it, I got emotional. It is a beautiful melody and it spoke to me on a spiritual level. There was a familiarity with the song that I could not quite put my finger on. I went home and searched high and low. I searched the depths of the internet, and the depths of Youtube until I found it! It has a beginning that we did not use, but the ending was the same. The beginning is slow and sorrowful. The end is lively and upbeat. Well, I decided to do some research into the origin of the niggun and what I have found was shocking.

Before I tell you what I found, we have to go back a few years. I believe that certain things happen in our lives for a reason. It was my Sophomore year. A crazy, over the top Professor who I had never met comes crashing into my History of German Antisemitism class. Her and my Professor were joking, playing around as she was handing out pamphlets talking about a Spring Break opportunity to go to Germany and Poland. I was interested, but never thought I had the slightest chance of going. The two of them talked about past experiences with the trip, I was interested, but then it dawned on me that the whole thing was a trip studying the Holocaust. I had to go, but I had no clue how to get there. A few days afterwards, I call my grandparents who were already putting me through college. I mean everything. Housing, books, tuition, car insurance, meal plan, everything! I tried to call them about once a week to say hey, and give them an update. I told them about my classes, my friends and my life. Somewhere in there I brought up the Poland and Germany trip. My Mamaw went on and on about how awesome of an experience it would be. I agreed, but it was nothing more than a passing thought, because I did not expect them to fit the bill. We shmooze a little more, catch up on family drama and then say our goodbyes. I went on with my day. Later that night I get a phone call from my Mamaw. I panic, thinking something could be wrong because I just talked to her a few hours earlier. She asks me if I am sitting down, and proceeds to tell me that her and my Papaw talked it over and they insisted that I go on the trip, and they were sending me! Little did they know how much this trip would come to mean to me, and what large a part in played in my life! I made some life long friends on that trip, including that awesome, crazy professor!

March comes around. One thing leads to another and I am in Germany. Over a 10 day period, I was in Berlin, Germany and Krakow, Poland. It was an amazing experience! After we get to Poland, our next mornings events started early with a tour of the Jewish Quarter. We visit different buildings, churches, different areas of the quarter, see where some of the movie Schindler’s List was filmed, and visit different Synagogues. One Synagogue in particular stood out to me. We show up to a large gate. The entire Synagogue is walled off from the street. Inside the gate is a small courtyard and a pretty large cemetery surrounds the building. We go inside, talk about the history of the Synagogue and take some time for reflection, and a little shelter from the snow. After about 30 minutes, we go outside to learn of the history of the cemetery. Our guide is not very educated in Jewish culture, but he knows a good bit about World War II. We enter the cemetery and the grounds surrounding the Synagogue. I notice something peculiar about the inside of the wall. I didn’t notice anything from the street, because the wall is smooth, but the inside of the wall is made up of fragments of stone with Hebrew on them. We are then told of the history of the cemetery. During the Holocaust, the Nazis desecrated the cemetery and hauled away tombstones to be used as paving stones in the camps. In later restoration, some of the tombstones were re-erected, but only a small portion compared to what used to be there. The walls interior was refinished using pieces of broken tombstone in order to preserve the history of them. It was terribly sad, but a beautiful way to preserve the history. We took in everything we were seeing and continued our tour of the quarter.

Back to today. I am sitting here researching the niggun and start seeing pictures that look an awful lot like the Synagogue I visited in Poland. I learn the story of the Krakow Niggun. Reb Slomo Carlebach is credited with the creation of the niggun. Reb Shlomo went to Poland, visiting remnants of the ghettos, concentration camps and Auschwitz. After he visits these places he visits a Synagogue known as the Remuh Synagogue.  He is distraught by everything he has seen. He enters the Synagogue and replays all of the sites in his head. He begins to cry and falls asleep. He has a dream. In his dream he sees Jews getting onto trains, and being taken to the concentration camps. He sees them being stripped of their possessions. He sees them walking into the chambers and unclothing. They approach a door, but when it opens, it is not a gas chamber. Jews began leaving the chamber wearing clothes of white, and smiling. He saw life in the destructive atrocities of the Shoah that brought death to twelve million people, six million Jews, 2 and a half million children. The beginning of the niggun is mournful as it relays the message of destruction and death. The end is lively as it represents the light Reb Shlomo saw in the darkness. The Krakow Niggun reflects the message of his dream. The dream that he had in the Remuh Synagogue. The Synagogue that I visited while in Krakow, Poland.

 

 

It is funny how somethings come back to you when you least expect them. The Krakow Niggun already meant something to me, just hearing it at services, but now that I know it also ties into a place I have actually been, it means that much more. I hope that my Temple will hold onto the practice of the Krakow Niggun, I know I will. I am humming it right now!

One House, Three Religions, and a Common Understanding

Admittedly, as embarrassing as it is to say it, I am 24 and I still live at home. It is tough out there, and they do not prepare you for this part of life when you are still at the university! That being said, my situation is a little peculiar. I am Jewish. I converted to Judaism, and choose to practice what I am comfortable practicing in the environment I am in. I know that I should be doing more, but in the interest of keeping the peace, I choose what is most important to me, and what will easily blend in with the family environment established in my household. My Dad, Step-mom and I practice three different religious perspectives, under the same roof. Oy!

My Dad is Christian. Christian, but non-denominational. In all reality, the church he goes to teaches the basic tenants of Christianity and ceases to delve into anything much deeper. In an hour long service, 45 minutes is standing and listening to Christian rock music, the sermon lasts about 10 minutes and then there is 5 minutes of communion and tithing. No Lashon Hara intended, but his working knowledge of religion is often lacking, but that is the nature of the beast in regards to the type of church he goes to. He is militantly for Jesus, because that is all they preach at his church. Through Jesus, you have everything, are forgiven for everything and are going to Heaven because of it. End of story.

My Step-mom is Christian. Her story is a little different though. She is Christian, and she is a  Jehovah’s Witness. It is nothing new, but when she met my Dad she agreed, for the sake of conformity, to give the non-denominational life a chance, and it was not for her. From what I have come to understand watching her return to the Witnesses, they are a lot like Judaism in terms of their practice being a way of life. She is also a whole different animal. Although misguided, she is well versed in Witness theology and the Bible. The Bible, in its entirety, is a guide to life and they will abide by it, word for word, according to its traditional interpretation, from their own edition and translation of the Bible. I will give them one thing. They are extremely organized. They have a website, song book, pamphlets, a TV channel and resources to spread the word at every turn.

All of this ends up turning our house into quite the melting pot. This time of year, for example, can become a little difficult. Hanukkah is right around the corner, and so is Christmas. Being Jewish, as I stated in my last post, I am trying my best to separate myself from a holiday that no longer resonates with me. My Dad, on the other hand, would love to paint the walls green and red and strap a manger scene to the roof! My Step-mom, being a Witness does not acknowledge the holiday for three reasons. The Witnesses do not celebrate birthdays. According to them, every birthday in the Bible ends badly. The second reason being, there is a discrepancy as to when the birth of Jesus took place. The third, Jesus only says to celebrate his death, so they do just that. They only celebrate Easter. We all have different translations of “the Bible.” We all have different understandings of Biblical prophecy. We all have different study groups, religious goals, congregations, Bible studies, and religious ways of life outside the four walls of our religious establishments.

It can get heated, to say the least! We try our best to be understanding. For a little while we tried to have group study sessions. They got a little chaotic, and now it is mostly my Step-mom and I having what we have deemed “scholarly debates.” These “scholarly debates” usually go something like this. “Why do Jews believe…?” “Well, Jews believe this because…” “Well, that can’t be correct…Jesus said…” and it usually spirals downward from there. I have come to find that people, my parents in this instance, fear what they don’t know. Even though Christianity came from Judaism, they have no clear understanding of anything Jews practice, or why. I have found that the more I include them in the things I do, the more tolerant and even accepting they become. It was like pulling teeth, but even little things they have become accustomed to. They know every Shabbat there will be challah, Kiddush, and candles. They know I wear a kippah, and why. They have a very basic working knowledge of Judaism, and that is okay with me, for now, in their home. I would love to keep Kosher, but know that is not practical right now. I rely on them, their home, their space and often times their food and to add such restrictions on something not my own, would not be fair. Can I resist eating pork, yes. Can I try and separate milk and meat, I can try. I will light Shabbat candles, wrap tefillin, affix the mezuzah to my bedroom door, go to my own services and act in an appropriate manner that keeps me grounded to my religious beliefs, while also respecting the people I live with and the house we live in. For now, we have a common understanding. We are all religious. We all practice our religion under the same roof. We try to respect each others boundaries. There are a lot of ways I would like to expand in my practice, but for now, I am confined by the ethical boundaries I must establish while living in someone else’s home. Shabbat Shalom!

 

Hanukkah and the urge to Culturally Appropriate

Growing up, Thanksgiving and the entire month of December meant just one thing, Christmas. I love the trees, the decorations, the presents, the music, the family, all of it! I often tell people that one of the hardest things about my conversion was giving up Christmas. Fortunately enough, it only comes once a year, but a long year it can be! For instance, at work, we starting putting Christmas decorations out at the beginning of September! Christmas was fully clothed and out the door, before Halloween even had the chance to get out of its pajamas. Thanksgiving never even got out of bed! A little ridiculous, but I understand the need to hang onto something that brings so much joy to so many people. Unfortunately, my decision to convert to Judaism did just the opposite of that, I was giving it up, kicking and screaming to say the least.

My first Hanukkah experience, Freshman year, is one I will never forget. It was the first year I really struggled with giving up Christmas. I was still getting accustomed to the college life, I was away from my family and I was slowly taking the next exit off the Christian holiday highway! By December I had made some solid friends, one of which happened to be Jewish. Seeing that she was Jewish, I was in between religious perspectives and the others in our group were Christian, we decided to have a Chrismukkah Party. I got a little Christmas, and a little Hanukkah. The party, friends, food and gifts were great, don’t get me wrong, but I still felt as if something was just a little off. I wanted to be Jewish, but I still loved Christmas, and it didn’t feel right trying to do both.

 

 As I got more involved in Jewish life on campus, specifically Hillel, it got a little easier. Less Christmas, more Hanukkah. My roommates still put up a tree and decorations, but I got my Menorah. They had garland, I had Hanukkah streamers. They had beautiful wrapping paper of green, red and silver. I had gift bags covered in blue and gold, flying dreidels and fully lit menorahs. That was the easy part. Going home was a struggle. Family ornaments, the decorations that meant so much to me throughout my life now were no longer “mine,” and it was a bit of a struggle. Until I graduated, I always got Hanukkah with a little Christmas. Even now, I still get it in some shape, way or form.

   

The memories of my youth and the grand Christmas blow outs will be something I never forget. They are a part of who I am, where I have been and will always be a part of me, but they are not necessary for me anymore. After 6 years of weaning myself off of Christmas, I think I finally have quelled my need for Christmas, maybe?  Unfortunately, I think I have picked up the bad habit if buying Christmas stuff, under the guise of Hanukkah decorations. Hanukkah, in the realm of Jewish holidays, does not carry with it the grandeur of say, Yom Kippur, Pesach or Rosh HaShanah. It is a simple practice. Lighting the menorah, eating some latkes, some special prayers and maybe a little dreidel. It is by no means any less of a beautiful practice, if anything the simplicity of it is a relief after the stress that comes with the High Holidays. That being said, Hanukkah and its proximity to Christmas has blown the original intent of the holiday way beyond what is necessary, and into the realm of cultural appropriation.

I delight in seeing polar bear light sets for the front yard, where they are holding a Happy Hanukkah Banner. I love the Happpy Hanukkah window clings. I love the Hannukah wreaths, Hanukkah “Bushes” and Happy Hanukkah stockings. It gives us the chance to spruce up our Hanukkah celebration, but it also reminds me of one of the top songs of the season, “It’s beginning to look a lot like Christmas!” Hanukkah does not call for a Hanukkah Menorah shaped tree, Hanukkah stockings, massive Christmas light displays, or the Mensch on a Bench. I have inadvertently replaced Christmas decorations with Hanukkah look a likes.  It looks like a blue and white Christmas theme, and not a Jewish holiday! I am belittling the importance of Christmas symbolism. I am comparing religious holiday traditions that have very little in common. Christmas is one of the most prominent, if not important holidays in the Christian calendar. Hanukkah is beautiful in its own right, and I feel that every bit of blue and silver tinsel, every Hanukkah stocking, every Hanukkah Bush, every Star of David Christmas tree ornament does nothing but fuel the fire that eats away at the true meaning of Hanukkah, and appropriates Christian symbolism.

I have a new goal for this year. I want to make my own holiday traditions. I want to give Hanukkah the respect that it deserves by observing it the way it should be. I want to give all Jewish holidays their due respect. No more Hanukkah themed Christmas decorations. I want to appreciate the miracles that G-d performed for my ancestors, if by nothing more than the small, beautiful flames of the Hanukkah candles!

Ghosts, Demons and Dybbuks: Judaism and the Paranormal

I love most things paranormal. Luckily, Judaism entertains all of my craziness, and that is what I love so much about it. I am free to address many concepts other religious perspectives shun, or blatantly deny. I can watch Ghost Adventures and Paranormal State on repeat for days. Unexpectedly, Judaism has its own concept of  the paranormal. We have ghosts, we have demons, we have the Ibbur and the Dybbuk, and we even have Golems! I think religious establishments shy away from topics like these, while in the mean time people are hard pressed to describe and explain the experiences they are having with the”other side,” without feeling crazy.

Let’s tackle some of the paranormal aspects of Judaism! Judaism, and more specifically Kabbalah, has a concept of the ghost. Technically speaking, they are spirits that exist and should not be consulted. Most of the information I have found is sparse and not very informative. Now, commonly associated with ghosts, but more associated with the concept of the demon, is the Dybbuk. A person is possessed by a Dybbuk. The Dybbuk attaches itself to the soul of someone living. It can be an evil Dybbuk, latching onto the soul of an innocent person, or a saintly soul wronged by the living, returning as an act of punishment on the wrong doer. Either way, it is usually an negative experience for the one possessed. The latter phenomenon is covered in one of my favorite books, where the soul of a Holocaust victim latches itself onto a Nazi officer. Very entertaining, but dark humor. Next we have the concept of an Ibbur. The Ibbur is very interesting. Technically speaking the possession of an Ibbur is no different than the possession of a Dybbuk. The Ibbur, however, is almost always positive and usually latches itself to the host soul in order to benefit it in some way, like by performing a mitzvah. Souls can even visit in your sleep to deliver messages, or prophecies about the future. The Bible, more specifically the Hebrew Bible for our purposes, says very little about ghosts and demons. The Talmud, however has a lot more to say. It goes as far as to say the great mystics can see the demons all around us. If we could see all of the demons surrounding us at any given time, our mind could not handle it, no living creatures could handle it. Our feet cramp, our knees weaken, the clothing of scholars frays due to the constant presence of demons around us at all times. The Talmud also makes the distinction very clear, when they say demons, they could mean metaphorical demons, but we are also instructed to sift ashes around our bed, and we would see the footprints that looked like those of the cock, if we wanted to discover them. Who knew in Judaism, right?

A lot of people have had experiences they can’t explain. Some have not. For those of us who have, it is good to know that we have somewhere to look for understanding. Judaism, in mainstream theology, tends to join the other religious perspectives in shying away from the paranormal. It cannot, however, deny that it has a rich history in the study and acceptance of paranormal entities that exist in and around us at any given time! The next time you hear something go bump in the night, just remember, it could be any number of things. It could be the lost soul of a departed loved one. It could be an angry Dybbuk, or a helpful Ibbur. It might even be a benign presence at the end of the hallway, or it could just be your cat!

Gilgul Ha’Neshamot: Cycling of the Jewish Soul

My journey through Judaism has been an odd one, often times covering territory I never thought possible with modern theology. Growing up, it became apparent in my religious upbringing, that going against the status quo was not an acceptable means of growing in ones personal belief. Admittedly, I tried to do it…a lot! One of the topics “not open for discussion” was reincarnation. I have always believed in some concept of reincarnation. My Mom often spoke of old and new souls. My sister, at a very young age, used to walk around the house and tell people “When I was a grown up, I used to fly airplanes.” Similar examples, plus other personal experiences have led me to the only conclusion I can find, and that is a healthy belief in reincarnation.

I believe that future decisions can be made from past experiences, not necessarily ones that I have actually lived through, but have an unusually clear understanding of. One of the aspects that I love about Judaism, is that it covers so many of the basic tenants of my understanding of the world around me. Reincarnation is not exempt from this understanding. Judaism, mostly through Kabbalistic schools of thought, has Gilgul Ha’Neshamot, or literally translated, the cycling of the soul. The soul cycles through different lives, attaching itself to different people over time. The person that the soul attaches itself to depends on what the soul is seeking in this incarnation, as well as its previous experiences in past lives. The soul is yearning for something specific and lives on, person to person, until it achieves what it is looking for.

I bring all of this up as an introduction to my journey in and through Judaism. I make no secret of the fact that I was raised in a pretty secular, Christian-oriented household. My Mamaw and her sisters sang in the choir at their church as children. One of our family heirlooms is a plastic manger scene from my Great Grandmother. My Mom went to Bible school. My Dad still has a red letter Bible that he received at a young age at his non-denominational Christian Church. My class ring from High School has a cross and Bible engraved on the inside of the band. The secular household, with the Christian “Jesus is watching and loves you” mind set was all I had. We didn’t go to Church, and I yearned for something more spiritual in my life.

From Middle School on, I spent the next few years of my life actively searching for answers. What do we believe, what do I believe, and why do I believe it? All too often I was met with “We don’t ask those sorts of questions,” or “Those questions can be dangerous to answer.” It did nothing to quench my thirst for religious understanding, and it became clear that people fear what they don’t know. I went to Young Life. I was in Prayer at the Pole. I went to Bible Study sessions. Nothing seemed like it fit. My search continued on. I vividly remember the 10th grade, typing a paper in the Living Room, and asking my Mom about Judaism. Fact after fact, point after point, and asking why we didn’t practice, only to get an “I don’t know?” in response.  I finally started finding what I was looking for in college.

My Freshman year is when everything came together. My Rabbi loves for me to tell the story of how I got into her course on the Hebrew Bible, two weeks after class started and the last day of add/drop. She sent me the most intimidating e-mail, two weeks into my first year of college. I was admitted into the class, but I have to catch up on my own, with no assistance. It was not a religious class, but scholarly based. The worse part of all, I had already forfeited my absences for the whole semester by adding late, but I was in. That was all I needed to hear.

We spent the semester studying biblical history, the history of Israel in the Bible. Inconsistencies in biblical narrative. Different writers of the Hebrew Bible. Even a little Hebrew got thrown in. It was terrible. The people, not the class. Most were combative, and they ruined the class for everyone else. At the end of the semester our Professor, now my Rabbi, decided against her better judgment, to bring in the Torah Scroll for the “worst class she ever had.” I walked into class, saw the Torah and was instantly moved. I didn’t know what I felt, but I was excited. After an introduction to the topic, to the Torah, and the rules associated with it, we were allowed to approach the table as my Professor opened the Torah. The Hebrew was beautiful. The Torah was beautiful. All of it was beautiful. My Rabbi proceeded to open to Bareishit and began chanting the first passage of the Torah. The floodgates of my soul literally opened as word after word flowed from her lips in the Ashkenazi trope. I was moved, but more, my soul was awakened. Tears filled my eyes. I was speechless. A warmth filled every corner of my being. The puzzle piece I had been searching for, for so long was finally in place. It was as if reality had never been truer for me than right there at that time. I had a connection and understanding with a language I didn’t even understand. I knew nothing, but I knew everything. Class was over, and we left. I cried the entire walk back to class. I didn’t know how to explain what happened.

I look back at that very vivid memory now, and know. I know exactly what it was and how to explain it. I can not only explain it, but can justify it with my belief, and Judaism’s belief in the concept of Gilgul Ha’ Neshamot. I had a connection with Judaism, because I had always been Jewish, I just didn’t know it. My soul was there at Mt. Sinai when G-d gave everyone the Torah. My soul, in and out of time, has been Jewish. Judaism is my home, my culture, my family and my way of life. I have a connection with Judaism that extends far beyond the religious aspects. My very being is Jewish. People have always told me “You know, there is something about you, you are a very old soul.” My Rabbi has even said this. One conversion class in particular sticks out in my mind. It was close to the end of my process and we were beginning to wrap things up. My Rabbi proceeds to tell me that she was not sure how to approach the topic of reincarnation, but in her life, in her practice, in her role as a religious leader, she has only come across two people she felt were “Jewish in a past life, somewhere, somehow” and I was one of them.

The belief in reincarnation is a difficult topic for many modern religious denominations to approach. Luckily for me, I have a Rabbi, and a religious belief that allows for thought “outside of the box.” I have a lot of things left to experience it his world, I am only 24. I do know that not everything can be explained with fact, and reincarnation is one of them. Too many things in my life have worked out differently, and far from ordinary. Judaism is one of them. I have always been Jewish, but in committing to practice, and living a Jewish life, my soul has come full circle, and I know I am a lot happier in the space and time that I am today.