Walking The Fine Line

Wow. So many times, I've come up with an issue I've wanted to write (type?) about on here; but my job has been keeping me so busy - B'H - I always get pulled into something else.

Since March of 2005 I've pretty much tried my best to change my lifestyle. The external stuff was the easiest (well almost; taking out my dreadlocks was 2 months of hard work!). But I choose to ignore the things I just was not ready to tackle. Mainly, the friendships and social events I had before becoming 'religious'.

Now I should also say that I probably have it a lot easier than other people who choose to become Orthodox Jews. My family has put their love for me above difference of religion. And I've only lived in South Florida for 3 years. Those I know of here before I started on this path I've only known for that short period. Others have had to go through losing lifetime friends in the on the road to Torah observance.

The strangest situation for me by far is the one I have with members of my old [liberal] Jewish congregation. Although I had a bit of an awkward relationship with the Rabbi, the congregants there really welcomed me warmly. However, I they also put their heart and soul into that congregation because it's young and they are trying to establish themselves. One of the members admitted that he sometimes goes to the Chabad House to daven (since that congregation does not have Friday night services). He said that he mentioned it once at a kiddush and got the disdainful reaction that only reads, "you pray with those crazy people". In my case, even with my haphazard means of keeping kosher, not shopping on Shabbat, or wearing pants to shul I felt I was standing alone for doing "extra stuff" and had to endure the hollow compliment of, "My oh my, you're more Jewish than I am!". I can only imagine if they knew I "went Orthodox".

About 2 weeks ago I found out that a member of the sisterhood at that congregation that I had been quite active in for the duration of my membership passed away. She died while I was in New Jersey, so it was not really an issue of me going to the funeral services or not. The only way I found out is because there is one woman (another Black woman who is a sisterhood officer) that I still keep in contact with. When she told me, there was a tone of sadness in my response. Partly because this nice, friendly Grandmother had passed on and partly because I felt I had abandoned ship in the wrong way. Perhaps it's not right, but even if I was in Florida I honestly think I would not be able to bring myself to attend services for her. To show up and have to deal with the questions...

Oh, and the woman I keep in contact with also questions me. But I have gotten very deft at dealing with most of them. In fact, my move assisted me on that front too because even for a devoted shul member, driving from North Miami Beach to downtown Ft. Lauderdale for Shabbos services is a bit much. You pass at least 8 Reform shuls alone! But the questions about my current shul/community is a bit tougher. I also feel as if I left a strage picture of converts behind me. That converts are whimsical and go through these "stages". Sometimes I want to write them a letter and say, "No, just the opposite is true! I left so that I could grow! I am no longer around because I have experienced authentic Judaism and I love it!". But I doubt my ability to write such a letter saying such without offending someone deeply.

The other aspect of my life is perhaps a shadier one. I may have been a 'Reform Jew' for years but I was far from religious. Back in Pittsburgh I was deep into the world of indie/punk/hardcore music as well as the youth subcultures that revolved around that scene. That did not change when I moved to Florida. Some of my first friends were "punks" and "skinheads" (please refer to this page for clarification of what a skinhead really is; I'm not going to elaborate here, but "skinhead" is not synomous with "Neo-Nazi, racist person"). I noticed that in South Florida, there really was not a lot of diversity to be found - so I stayed away from groups. But I did pull out a couple of close friends; all of them male.

The law of shallow friendships, which are based on externalities such as what music you listen to, or how you dress, weeded out all of the friendships except for two good ones and a handful where we are still are speaking terms. One in particular, I was very frank with. He's in a [good] punk/oi! band that performs only about 1 a month or so because the band members are older and they work. Although I usually cannot attend because they are on Shabbos, he calls to let me know anyway. About 5 weeks ago, I was able to attend a Thursday night show. It felt good to see them play, and I still find punk music pretty enjoyable (the profanity, just like most of the other lyrics, can hardly be heard through the wailing guitars and pounding drums); but on the other hand I felt very 'alone'. Around me I saw the girls flirting with guys, the crazy alcohol-fueled dance-antics, and the abandon of living for the moment. Stuff that I cannot bring myself to do, but I still remember what it feels like. Not that I want to go back. I will take a chumash shiur any day over drunken kisses with a guy I hardly know. But all of that did give you a 'rush'; it made you laugh; although it was all very fleeting and gave you a false sense of acceptance. I felt like a ghost; like the dead watching the living. I work every day, very hard, on trying to bond with others in the frum Jewish community. In the bars, you drink 2 Guinesses with the person next to you and you're old pals.

That night I went home alone. My friends, although glad to see me, went home with either their significant others for the moment or someone they had 'picked' up. They respect that I have changed; to the point where they don't even ask. Not that I would accept an invitation to go and hang out at someone's house to have a beer (or two, or three...) but just to decline it - would feel good. It would feel like I still existed.

I changed out of my clothes and on my couch and just cried. I felt like the most alone person on planet Earth. However, 15 minutes later when I went to read קריאת שמע על המטה , I felt immensely better.

I don't know what this says 'about me'. Although I'm sure that it was not exactly what I should have been doing by being at that show; but perhaps it was needed (it feels that way). Is this right? Is it normal? To me the scenario seems like that of a drug addict; you do well for a little bit, you slip up and smoke/snort/shoot your drug of choice, you feel terrible, you rebound, you feel much better. I really don't like to compare my former life to that of someone in rehab, but you can't ignore the simliarities.

Inside, I know (and don't question) what I feel. I feel peace and comfort in Judaism. The Torah is the most precious gift handed down to humans. Truth and knowledge pour out the more you dig in. So why is it still not enough that we (converts or baalei teshuvah) move on without ever looking back? Or am I projecting here? Am I any better than the wife of Lot when I don't put all faith in Hashem and don't look towards the Sodom and Gemorrah she was blessed to escape from?

Currently, I don't have a nice resolution to this issue. With each day that passes and another cycle of tefillot are said, I hope that I am creeping towards becoming a little stronger in my personal dedication to Yiddishkeit.