General Thoughts for a Monday
Yesterday, in the spring cleaning, getting ready for Passover frenzy, I had some thoughts about it. I started reflecting on what my life would have been like if my Dad had practiced his faith and taught us what it means to be a Jew. I feel that I've been somewhat cheated because I'm in my mid-forties now and this will be my first Passover.
What would it have been like growing up in Chicago surrounded by my Jewish aunts, uncles, cousins, and grandparents?
I have always felt like my life was missing something. This missing part has led me to some bad decisions to which I accept full responsibility.
With each passing week, I become more part of Beth Israel's congregation and the more I feel the missing part being replaced by what my soul and heart have been seeking.
Maybe the newness of experiencing services, participating in new holidays, and meeting many people who seemingly have the same type of humor as me is responsible for this.
Perhaps the feelings I am experiencing now will wear off with time. But I don't think so. Some 20 odd years ago, when I became a Catholic there was not the same joy and feeling of belonging as there is now.
I have doubts and qualms about my decision to follow the faith of my forefathers. But those are mostly due to wanting it so bad that I'm afraid that I'll fail in some way.
My heart has always leaped when I saw pictures of Israel. I have always been more comfortable with my Dad's side of the family. And even though I just have the gist of the Hebrew I sing and pray during services, it feels natural.
So even though my body is weary from the spring cleaning that I combined with getting ready for Passover, there is a quiet joy and hope. I look forward to my first sedar.