By Kiki Arochas, Staff Writer
I don’t know if Judaism is real. I honestly don’t. I exhausted myself in high school, combing through book after book to see if I could find what was ‘capital T truth.’ Permission to Believe. The God Delusion. The Kuzari. I tried to gain every perspective, until I realized something crucial: I wasn’t seeking Truth, I was seeking happiness.
I didn’t care whether or not Judaism was true; not really. The point wasn’t to have a rock solid philosophical foundation free of any and all inconsistencies. I don’t believe such an endeavor is possible or feasible. What really bothered me about my religious lifestyle was whether or not Judaisim was bad. True or not, I enjoyed my Jewish lifestyle, and I planned on sticking around. But, I had seen many of my religious friends suffer and it made me wonder if Judaism is inherently bad, i.e., holds reprehensible ideas or motives that hurt people. If this proved to be true, then maybe I shouldn’t be a part of it anymore.
Given this framing, there were many things that I had and currently have difficulty reconciling within my faith. The role of women in orthodox society, for instance, makes me deeply uncomfortable; I imagine it might be difficult to connect to public prayer with a wall in your face. I also don’t understand what’s expected of gay religious Jews who have had no say in their orientation. But bluntly speaking, I am neither a woman nor gay. While these matters were problematic to me, I selfishly needed to focus first on the issues that had direct influence on me and me alone. Particularly, the lack of room for doubt within Judaism. I understand the wish for resolve, but the world is filled with so much confusion and chaos. In such a world, how could anything be so obvious to anyone?
That was where my headspace was while working at last year’s Seforim Sale. Although I earned money towards seforim by working at the sale, I hadn’t really given much thought as to what I might buy – my interest in Jewish topics was dwindling at the time (frankly, the only thing that got me to the Seforim Sale in the first place was the social scene). But then something caught my eye. A white cover, with a pair of clasped, blue hands held in prayer, overlapping a red microscope. The Great Partnership, by Rabbi Jonathan Sacks. Something inexplicable drew me to it. Maybe I liked the cover. Maybe somewhere in the deep recesses in my mind I recalled a conversation from my year in Israel where his works were recommended to me. Or maybe, it was just a feeling. But, at that moment, I knew I wanted it.
I wound up purchasing that and another work by Rabbi Sacks titled Not in God’s Name. My expectations were high, but not through the roof. Little did I know that the words inked from Rabbi Sacks’ pen would change my outlook forever.
Rabbi Sacks held no regard for any of the dogmatic beliefs I had come to so despise. Atheists weren’t sinful morons lacking morals or meaning in their lives whose beliefs stemmed from simply “giving in to temptation.” Being “the chosen nation” did not equal superiority. Jews did not hold a monopoly on truth; people of all faiths and beliefs were equally loved and had their own unique missions in this world. In A Letter in the Scroll, his frankness about his own doubts and struggles with his faith ironically helped my own. It was refreshing to hear not certainty, but as he so eloquently put it, the courage to live in uncertainty.
I didn’t realize such a perspective existed. I believed I was alone in this train of thought, assuming that these beliefs were inherently outside of Judaism. But here they were, written by a highly regarded rabbinical figure. I wasn’t alone after all.
This fresh perspective on Judaism was everything I felt had been missing in my upbringing. It called back to my need for nuance that I discussed in a previous article: the acknowledgement that the world is filled with anything but certainty.
I still have many doubts. I don’t know what my future has in store for me, religiously or otherwise. But I do know now that there is a path forward. I can write my own letter in the scroll.