Cross Currents

I have a job in retail now. Not a lot of money but enough to keep me off welfare. I am grateful. It's also something I love to do, in retail, educating, selling. I don't have to lie (I couldn't) and I don't have to dissemble (I wouldn't). The product is worthy of praise. And so I praise and sell and perhaps, bring a little bit of pleasure and connection into people's lives.

The hours are long. I have no life other than work (not my choice) and the day-to-day chores of living. Still, it's work I enjoy, though I pray for a more balanced life. A retail life means insane hours, no social whirl, and for me, no Shabbat, and rarely, anything Jewishly communal. I can't begin to say how much I envy every blogger who has the luxury to argue the minutiae of Jewish Law or mourn the state of their shul (synagogue). I'm still dreaming of obtaining my own sovereign space, where I can live a more disciplined and more expansive Jewish life.

It's funny. I had great dreams, when I became a Jew. I had amazingly vivid, real dreams as well, of the woven colours of the sanctuary, of its beauty in the desert, and the shelter of that beauty, when I walked into that tent. I had dreams of Israel, of one day living there, rather like the ending of the film, "Damaged", in some exotic place, but with a happy ending.

I had dreams of community.

Funny. Those dreams did not come true.

When I started this blog, I was so involved in "Wading Through a Sea of Torah and Jews". I did wade, and it was a hard slog, reading so much vitriol from another stream of Judaism, being shocked and appalled, and feeling like I was fighting the tide and yet still trying to surf it, to understand. And I have come to the understanding that there are different worlds within Judaism, and clearly, never the twain shall meet. Well, bummer. There goes part of the weft.

But in the long run, I find it just doesn't make that much difference to the life I lead. If Judaism is about community, then I have found very little, here. That is not to say that anyone or anything is at fault, as much it seems that yes, my shul is rather lacking in kindness for the single and alone, and yes, in order to live, I must work on Shabbat and against the Jewish calendar.

So, where does that fit into the Jewish way of life?

Because this is my Jewish life: hastening for the bus and saying the Shema on the way. Sitting on the bus at other times and reading morning prayers. Being too tired after Shabbat to read Torah, yet thinking of reading Torah, sometimes longing to read it. Recognising with every Shabbat that I am not observing Shabbat except for lighting candles and sometimes, not writing (for myself). Once in a while, coming home after sundown on Shabbat, I sing "Shalom Aleichem", and imagine angels accompanying me on my way. I have not bowed to the Sabbath Queen for over a year.

Rest? So, not spiritual, these days. Last month I missed cooking, with my shul companions, for the homeless, because I was working, and I think about it. All of these things, among so many others, I find selfish. I miss them. I long for them. I want them back. I want my very Jewish life back.

Instead, every day is a struggle to practise Jewishly. Not to stay Jewish, which is a foregone conclusion, but to do what Jews do- not only ethically, but ritually, and in my most desperate dreams, communally.

Today, a day off from work, I travelled to a bookstore, just to find a lot of silliness about Kaballah, and very little relevant about Judaism. Actually, I discovered a book on Buddhist wisdom that spoke to me, while I was looking for a pocket Torah.

I find that secular life, in this particular place, especially, demands my time for coin. My creative life has become a pish-tush. I am indoctrinated by people at the top to believe that the company is worthy of devotion and yet I don't buy it and I don't think so. They flatter and they invite me to believe. I realise that the words of those devoted to the company and its glorious leader are empty words, meaningless, and it just makes me feel sad. Neither can I subscribe.

In the midst of all these currents that cross, which is the one for me?

I have come to this conclusion: that where I am is where I am. For some reason, this is it. I used to have this fantasy that having been "chosen", that that meant special things for me- like a copacetic Jewish community and an opportunity for me to practise Judaism in a big way. I was so wrong.

I don't recall now, what it is exactly that G-d promised me. And now I think, perhaps, not even a place where I would not be alone as a Jew. I feel kind of like a Christian, where it's just me and G-d. Maybe it's my fault. Maybe it's due to my choices. Maybe it's something else.

I used to think that it was so weird that G-d would lead me to Him, that He would point the way to Judaism, that that way would be wickedly difficult, and then, afterwards, the way would continue to be fraught with challenges so simplistic compared to the erudite yet totally irrelevant (to me) debates I read on blog pages.
Now, I can't help but mourn the life I hoped for. And yet, here I am with the little I have, with something. Perhaps that is all I have. Perhaps, for me, that is all that there is. I don't know anymore.

Yet, it seems surprisingly great. And, as if, there is a road less travelled, and never talked about, or perhaps, rarely known, in Judaism.

Sometimes, when clearly, according to Jewish standards, I have little, I feel like I have it all. I just don't get it.