As a small child I knew that being Jewish was something that separated me from my friends, but in an intangible way. We were not observant of the religion so there were no food or clothing restrictions that made me stand-out. We celebrated Christian holidays, so there were no alien rites or rituals that we practiced. But, somehow, I felt separated. Through high school and college, I tucked all of this away to be addressed at some later date then yet to be determined.
I continue to struggle with my religious identity, and feel both cursed and blessed that I was not the recipient of some family religious legacy. Most people learn their family’s religious rites, rituals and traditions throughout their childhood. Some of the learning process is structured, such as Sunday school or bar mitzvah preparation classes, while the rest, and bulk, is not, and is instead learned by observation of the adults around (ie, when Grandma kneels and crosses herself, so do you). There is comfort in doing what others are doing, and there is discomfort feeling out of place and not knowing what the appropriate rites and rituals are.
The advantage to being the outsider, though, is that you have no preconceived notions of how things are supposed to be. So, as an adult, with rational and critical capabilities, you analyze rites, rituals and traditions from a more pragmatic perspective, as someone of one religion would look at a different religion, but without the incumbent bias. You also feel comfortable to ask the questions of why. Why do we believe what we believe? Why are we performing these rites and rituals? Why do we keep these traditions?
This would be enough to describe me and my journey if I were merely a secular academician looking to study the why’s of religious people, but I’m not. I am looking for a relationship with God.
