[It
is the short time period between the yahrtzeits of my parents A”H.
The following is a reflection on some of what they gave me. May their
memories be blessed.]
Stories abound of people
leaving home to find riches, only to return home to discover that
they were sitting on treasure all along. I am not alone among my
friends and peers in having gone through such an experience in my
religious life.
I was raised in a Modern
Orthodox home. My mother received a limited Jewish education growing
up, and my father received even less. My mother was the impetus
behind their keeping a religious home, with some assistance from my
brother. Our parents sent us to day school and made many personal
sacrifices to pay for it. We kept Shabbos, without knowing hilchos
boreir, and kosher where a K with any shape around it was good
enough. I went to schools and camps where the boy-girl interactions
were, shall we say, quite different from Satmar. Neither of my
parents could translate a Rashi on chumash, let alone a mishna. They
did however teach us some things which were more important than that.
That being religious had to involve being a mentsch, that a
businessman or politician with a kippah had to be incredibly careful
about ethics, and to care about those who were less fortunate. They
taught us that taking fancy vacations was less important than a solid
Jewish education, that we should feel privileged to live at a time
when Israel and Jerusalem were “ours”, and that kindness and
honesty were as Jewish as Shabbos and Yom Kippur.
For me, this wasn't
enough. I yearned for the real thing. To keep every part of Shabbos,
the highest level of kashrus and to make Torah learning a more
serious part of my life. I saw the “yeshivah world” as the place
where those things could be found. I assumed that I would find the
bein adam l'chaveiro component on which I'd been raised, emphasized to
an even greater degree. And I did, except for when I didn't. I met
many people who saw Orach Chaim as much more binding than Choshen
Mishpat and the “fifth cheilek” of Shulchan Aruch. I saw people
who thought that outside appearances were more important than the
inside, and who told their daughters that if you don't marry someone
in kollel, you are only getting second best. Don't misunderstand me.
I met some incredible ba'alei chessed in that world, people who took
all areas of Torah seriously, whose actions met their
learning. When I looked around however, I realized that there were
also people like that who wore crocheted or suede kippot rather than
ones made of velvet. I saw battei midrash filled with Bnei Torah, who
also serve in the Israeli army, and chessed and educational
institutions run by wonderful and sincere Modern Orthodox Jews. In
short, I realized that no group had a monopoly on truth, Torah or
sincerity; or, unfortunately, on laxity in observance, nastiness or
haughtiness.
I came home. Not to the
exact same place as my parents, but at least within the same
figurative neighborhood. It's nice to be back, although I'm saddened
by the amount of time that it took, both in terms of my parents
missing out on my “return”, as well as a lot of decisions I wish
I had made differently. Perhaps it is inevitable that most of us can
only appreciate home only after we leave. I would advise you to look
carefully at everything you have before you decide to look elsewhere.
its interesting that most people end up going back home. feels a bit pathetic like we cant break out of nurturing... myself included, no insult to you Rabbi;)
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