Posts Tagged ‘religion’

10
Nov
2015

i don’t believe

categories: me

In most things, really. Just, like, in general I’m not a big believer. I don’t believe that vitamins do anything except make your pee smell funny. I don’t believe that cleanses cleanse anything, least of all your colon. I definitely do not believe that fat-free anything is real or is in any way shape or form healthy for one to consume. I don’t believe it when people say that their lives are perfect. I don’t believe conspiracy theorists when they tell me things about the world–any things about the world–or that anyone is actually capable of looking as flawless as the cover of a magazine. I don’t believe in any gods to speak of, nor do I believe in curses or bad luck or jinxes.

That said…there really is something to be said for the community that comes with believing. Whether it’s praying to a higher power and joining a flock of fellow-believers, or being a part of an ensemble, a team or a sorority–there really is something incredibly powerful about the bond that is created and the level of support and love that exists in those communities.

Sure, it can turn ugly. Fast. But, when it’s good it’s really fucking good. And, when I see it out there in the world–a group of churchgoers, a meditation class letting out, a choir singing on the street, a barrage of sweaty soccer players after a game–it leaves me feeling a little envious. And, nostalgic for something I never had. How can you be nostalgic for something you’ve never experienced? It’s possible, that’s all I can say.

So, the question is…what do you join when you’re not much of a joiner? How do you create community around nothing? I mean, nothing in the Seinfeld sense of nothing–which is to say everything and not just one single thing.

How do you worship, meditate, relax, unburden yourself without a church, a god, a singular vision? And, how do those meet-ups not end up feeling like work, like an obligation, like something you stare at on your calendar–for which you daydream up excuses?

Weekly craft nights, monthly conversations solamente en español, soccer leagues, zumbathons, even a regular girls’ night can feel like a burden. Not because I don’t want to do these things (they are things I love!) but because I just don’t want to give up the time, or find the babysitter–or pay for the babysitter, or it’s cold out and I can’t motivate, or I’m tired, or my back hurts, or I’m right in the middle of a super sweet Netflix situation. 

It’s like, theoretically, I want to belong. But, in practice, I just want to sit on my couch and binge-watch Gilmore Girls.

05
Nov
2015

identity

categories: me, new york

In New York you’re constantly bombarded with people on the street. People living on the street, people hanging out on the street, passersby on their way to and from work, red-eyed dads trying to get their kids to sleep at 2 AM, all sorts of folks on any given day. I would say I’m hit up at least a half-dozen times for money or a donation, a contribution, a signature or a flyer about god, about a new restaurant, about a salon giveaway, there’s always something–in fact, there’s always a million things.

Sometimes I give, sometimes I don’t. Sometimes I stop, sometimes I’m in a hurry. Sometimes I shoo them off, exasperated and frustrated–usually that’s on a really hot day when I’m in a big rush, and can’t they see my kid is having a miraculous nap in the stroller? But the interaction that always seems to leave me reeling is when I get stopped with, “Excuse me ma’am, are you Jewish?” Every single time I am stopped in my tracks. Do I lie? Is it really a lie? I’m not a practicing Jew. It’s my father’s side, so, does it really count?

And then I get to thinking about religion versus cultural ethnicity and internal identity versus external realities and how those all intertwine and get boggled up. You would think that after fifteen years in New York–and since I am besieged by this question during every high holiday–that I would have an answer at the ready. But, I don’t. Sometimes I say yes and other times it’s no.  And, no matter what I say I end up feeling kind of lousy.

Is it a fabrication to say yes? Is it a lie just to say no? Do I really want that horn blown in my face? Am I really expected to repeat that Hebrew verse? But, no matter what the answer, I feel like a fraud. If I say yes then I feel like the minute I can’t recite properly they know I’m full of shit. If I say no, I envision them walking away mumbling under their breath about how I’m so obviously Jewish and why would I lie? And, I get this queasy feeling in my gut.

Who am I versus who I am perceived or expected to be? Where do I fit in? Who do I belong to? If not to them, then to whom? Am I an island? And I start romanticizing organized religion. Which is not a useful pastime. Because, I have yet to find one organization that I would truly want to be a part of. Am I the only one for whom this happens? Is it strange that a simple question turns into a deep philosophical dialogue about selfhood and identity? Perhaps. Or, maybe everyone’s walking around questioning who they are, not internally, but who they are in relation to the world around them. Which is a very different investigation than who we are on our own–what we do, what we believe in, who we love, how we live–those are somewhat simple to determine. It’s a question of belonging and of community, having nothing to do with confidence or success or education.

Are we all still in high school, searching for our clique?