My God Gene
Chavi Silver2011ContestsWinter 2011 ContestWhen I went to Eretz Yisroel for the first time at age 14, the teen tour I was on took us to Mea Shearim. Our madrichim told us to wear long skirts. Our group trekked through the streets one blistering summer erev shabbos with our fanny packs, skirts that swept the ground, and tank tops baring our bronzed shoulders (they had neglected to explain all of the rules). We were met with scornful looks and buckets of water dumped on our heads from the balconies above.
“Offensive and obnoxious,” was the sentiment of the group. Not mine. I was intrigued. I believed they had a right to act this way. We were the ones who paraded into their neighborhood to watch them perform in their natural habitat like monkeys at the zoo.
The air smelled like fresh laundry and chopped onions which I imagined were being prepared to go into some tasty dish. Men hurried around in shiny coats, while boys with shaved heads and long payos whispered to each other playfully. Young girls in braids kept their eyes on the ground and rushed past us, the older ones pulling along a group of their siblings.
The next day at the kosel, I davened. Sort of. I looked around at the women and girls, crying, shaking and bowing and mimicked their motions, tears streaming down my face, not knowing why or for what, except that the whole experience was very moving.
I had always felt a yearning towards Orthodox Judaism and its people. Something led me to be fascinated while others were appalled. If I knew then what I know now, I’d have known it was in my genes. Or at least it’s a plausible theory. As molecular biologist Dean Hamer claims, there’s a gene that predisposes people toward spirituality and religion. According to Hamer, VMAT2 – otherwise known as the God gene – makes us predisposed to that warm and fuzzy feeling of getting lost in an experience and finding certain ideas so darn pretty that who really cares if they can’t be proven.
And that, of course, would’ve explained it. My sister got the tall gene; I got the God gene. It must have skipped a few generations and landed in me, like the dimples that no one else in my family has.
But I didn’t know about the God gene then, and I thought only that I was more spiritual, that I’d discovered some deep truth about the universe that all the Conservative Jews around me had somehow missed.
When I got back to America I threw away my ripped blue jeans, strappy sundresses and assorted neon bikinis. And soon after that, I threw away my old name. There were no more boys, no more parties and no more kind bud joints. My Grateful Dead and Nirvana CD’s were replaced with Mordechai Ben David and The Miami Boys Choir. Gone was my old secular identity and in came the new, frummer-than-frum. On Shabbos, I hid away in my room with a bottle of Kedem grape juice and two partially frozen Lender’s bagels, singing D’ror Yikra,Yom Zeh Mechubad and Tzur Mishelo at the top of my lungs, trying to drown out the sound of the television downstairs. I learned my baruch hashems from my bli neders and would daven daily that my family would see the light and save themselves.
After five years, I thought I was truly in. I spent Sukkos in Geulah and Pesach in B’nei Brak. I taught limudei kodesh at a Bais Yaakov and could bake a challah that would make your Bubbe’s mouth water. I was arrogant, judgmental, and self-righteous. I looked the part, talked the part and truly believed, b’emunah shalemah, in the part. Here’s the thing about the part – when you believe to the core of your being that what you are doing is the one and only way, you can’t help but believe that everyone doing it differently is absolutely, positively wrong.
I was a typical frum girl, and nobody ever guessed that I was a baalas teshuva. But I soon realized that I would never completely fit it.
Soon I was 21, quickly approaching the age where it was no longer acceptable to be single, and a friend suggested I meet her aunt, a shadchan. I spent an hour blow drying my dark chin length hair, carefully curling each section under with a round brush, which I topped with a black felt headband. I put on my best Shabbos suit, black with a gold collar and cuffs, and made up my face to perfection adhering to my favorite teacher’s adage that girls should be attractive, but not attracting.
I arrived at the row home in Borough Park and knocked on the door timidly. A little boy answered, let me inside, and ran to get his mother. I stood uncomfortably, as tzniusdig as I could, waiting to be greeted. A short woman wearing a green pastel robe and stiff shaitel approached with a notebook in hand and led me to the dining room where the long table was covered with a clear plastic tablecloth. Before we even sat she asked my name. When I answered, she shook her head and seemed agitated. “No, your last name,” she said.
I knew it all along, but in that moment I really understood that no would ever care who I was, only who my family is. I explained to her that no, I was not related to the Silvers from Monsey and no, the Silver who was her son’s friend’s chavrusah in Lakewood was not my brother or cousin. “Actually, it’s just me,” I said. “My family isn’t frum.”
I was shown out before even taking a seat, before I could even say my shpiel about how I would do anything to support my learning husband and as many children as we were blessed to have, im yirtzeh hashem, and before I could rant on about all of the chesed I was doing, and how much I absolutely loved cooking and cleaning, because really, isn’t washing dishes and folding laundry just so therapeutic?
I arrived back in Flatbush, let myself into my rented attic room and closed the door. I walked toward the mirror to remove my tear-stained makeup and was stunned to find that I no longer recognized myself. The spiritual little girl I once was had been replaced by an empty shell and was gasping for air.
There were many other events that led to the realization that the world that had seemed so pure and holy wasn’t, that the people weren’t godly, just people. As it turns out my genetically mutated VMAT2 was pretty weak. After all, even my poor gene, Godly as it was, didn’t have yichus. I was a failure and proved all of those people right who were skeptical of my motives and sincerity. Or possibly, it was that my gene was too strong. Maybe it was begging to be freed from the life of religious strictures and minutiae that I imposed upon it. Had I squelched my gene’s spirit?
I still struggle with my God gene today. Sometimes I give in to it, open up a siddur, and sob as I mouth the familiar words. But mostly I am angry at it for letting me give myself so totally and completely to a religion and people who stripped me and left me bare.
28 Responses
Your only problem was that you allowed yourself to believe that there is such a thing as a god gene. the only difference between spiritual people and none spiritual is their level of delusion.
What a gorgeous piece! Thank you for sharing your experiences. I love the way you capture the innocence and sincerity of your feelings as a baal teshuvah, and then the abrupt reality you smacked into once you tried to get married. Your writing is very moving.
>After all, even my poor gene, Godly as it was, didn’t have yichus.
Excellent line. And fantastic post.
If I’d be in a more fighting mood I would ask you how did you know the the shadchan’s rejection was not your personal Nisayon. Oh, I just did! But there’s no need to answer that.
Anyhow, better that you woke up after you spent 7 years instead of 27. Just be glad that you finally realized that it’s your God gene that made you yearn for spirituality and not God himself.
Best of luck!
Would love to read more from you, you write very genuine.
Wow, you sound just like me, except that it took me until I was married with three kids to reach this point…
Being the son of a shadchenta, I can personally vouch that there’s absolutely no individualism when it comes to marriage. Sheduchim is evaluated merely on family merits going back, by some, to many generations.
I’ve seen sheduchim being rejected for frivolous issues, such as: dads profession, an uncle off the derech, aunt is divorced, or just a slight difference in the attire of the other family. The similarities of the two people in question is hardly a priority. Being a baal tshuva in our community calls for a big compromise. So Chavie, from the little info you shared with us, you deserve a lot better. I very much enjoyed reading this. Keep ‘em coming!
I was extremely moved by your story.
lol i liked the kind bud part. No all kidding aside, you know we have seen and heard this tale before, but you write so compelling about it that tears formed in my eyes. Keep praying for your bashert because there are many guys who would be happy to meet and marry you. I believe you would do better using online sites for that like frumster, I don’t speak from personal exp. there but I have met many couples who met that way. Please come back and post your progress and A’H happy news, Bisuros Tovos! I will play my guitar ar your wedding.
Thank you all so much for your kind comments! I really appreciate the feedback!
My ‘GOD’!
Your story speaks my words and even my own life’s experience!
I could go on forever reinforcing your words but you have said it all!
Good luck to you Chavi Silver and please send me an email.
Best
BT-Goneoff
Your whole Torah mindset destroyed because you met one rasha? Trust me, she is not the only fool with a shaitel you will ever meet.
Very strange though to get knocked off by this airhead. Big Deal-one weirdo and all of sudden 3500 years goes down the tubes? C’mon…get real. There are many “frum” looking fools. After I learned in Israel for a year, I moved to Flatbush as I had a job near Brooklyn. I lived there for about 10 months. It was an eye opening experience. It was the first time I met black hat Jews who were not religious at all. It was quite a revelation.
Nonetheless, it did not turn me off. It actually turned me on more! I was confident that the Torah life was true and just because I met some thieves and losers that does not change the facts.
I learned that one of the best things for a new Baal Teshuva to do is to spend 6 months living in Brooklyn. It gives you spiritual maturity when you realize that not all frum people are tzadikkim.
Nonetheless, why let some close minded people in the frum world turn you off to Torah? The Torah is true and a life of Torah and mitzvos when done consciously and with the right guidance is a real blessing. (I know all the angry ex frummies reading this will now say some nasty things—fine, go ahead…shoot!…)
“I know all the angry ex frummies reading this will now say some nasty things—fine, go ahead…shoot!…”
When you’ve been doing this for as long as I have, you are no longer an “angry ex frummie.” You might just be a mature thoughtful adult who has crafted a new life, one that fits and satisfies. Do I miss my family? Of course. Which is why I go back. And when I do, I often wonder why I bothered.
May G-d bless you with love, peace and happiness ad meah v’ esrim shana.
Emes Rocker
Emes, I like you better when you’re fiery. Too much mushy love here :(.
We all need as much love as we can get. Even in NYC.
> Big Deal-one weirdo and all of sudden 3500 years goes down the tubes
No no no.. Not 3500 years, just 7, didn’t you read her story?
And besides, she came in to OJ because of emotions and so she’s leaving because of emotions. It’s perfectly consistent.
Your writing is heartfelt and eloquent. Thanks for sharing your story.
Thank you all again for your comments!
Emes Rocker – this negative experience was one of many (not all related to shidduchim) that led me to question the choices I made. While the story with the shadchan was definitely a turning point for me, I “stayed” and struggled for years after that. Also, I would not call the shadchan a rasha; she was simply echoing the sentiments of the community at large. Also, you assume, that “3500 years went down the tubes” but that isn’t the case. I left a community and system which I felt was broken but have taken a lot with me.
Baal Habos – it is true that I came to frumkeit for emotional reasons. We are emotional beings and isn’t that what the kiruv organizations rely on to get people ‘in the door’? I did however, truly intellectually believe in everything I was doing and knew all of the arguments backwards and forwards. And while I was initially turned off for emotional reasons, it allowed me to take a step back and see the flaws in all of the ‘intellectual’ reasoning.
No one is actually “frum”. If someone asks me how long I have been “frum” I usually say either a)a few seconds or b)I have not yet become “frum” but hope to one day.
No one is actually a Baal Teshuva as the word “Baal” means master. Master of Teshuva?! I wish I was! Unfortunately, at this point I am more of a Baal Refrigerator!
One of the definitions of the word Yisroel is “one who struggles with G-d”. We have to constantly re-evaluate and re-examine all that we believe. I learn Torah for many hours a day and I still need to constantly argue and ask questions. I never assume anything. Nonetheless, I have been fortunate enough to always live in the company of great talmedei chochomim who I can fire away on any subject and who are not scared of anything and also assume nothing.
The main thing though for everyone, both men and women is to constantly learn and grow. The Torah is very deep, vast and endless. There are many things that take years to understand. And then when we think we have it, we then come up with more questions.
We all have to keep striving, keep trying to understand and keep searching. We are very blessed to have this Torah which if you keep digging and keep searching you will find great treasures unlike anything else in the world.
I hope that you can find a teacher and a group of people that you feel comfortable with and whom you can maximize all the specialness of your holy neshama.
Please don’t give up and remember what kind of holy and special person you are. Please don’t settle for ambivalence and negativity. The world is full of happiness and it is available to all. Just keep seeking and you will be blessed beyond your wildest imagination.
And then when we think we have it, we then come up with more questions.
Because there is NO answer. Not to the 3500 years and not to the Divine Revelation. But you seem to need a lot of therapy, so go on, talk more to yourself. you truly need it.
All the best, Emes Rocker
j., I’d love to get in touch with you about your personal experiences. You can ask the rav here, Reb Sholom for my email address.
Shkoich
Kafhakela, and so I shall! I like the “Shkoich.” I mutter that in Williamsburg too, makes me feel like the in crowd. LOL! It’s a mangling of Yasher Koach.
Not being an expert but I took a course in college and I think that there is also a gene for severe depression. I think that one got mixed up with the religious one.
And so it is for me after a lifetime of the “best” yeshivot, 3 yrs. wasted in ISREAL and a legacy of a father who was a rabbi but also the well-known lunatic on the streets of the city.
At some point the way people treat you is against the law, which in the Jewish world is the Torah. Then you can stand against them, but you have to know what that is. And you still have to care about it.
Emes Rocker sez, “Why let some close minded people in the frum world turn you off to Torah?”
According to its own laws and traditions, Judaism can’t be practiced alone.
Other faiths make a big deal out of hermits, or years spent in solitary prayer or meditation, or vows of silence.
Other faiths highly value people who deny themselves marriage, family, and even close, personal friendships, in the pursuit of spiritual goals.
But Judaism is an emphatically *communal* religion. You can’t just run off and live alone in some Himalayan cave and practice yiddishkeit in any meaningful way, or in any way resembling yiddishkeit as Jews understand it.
And so when Jews make life hellish for other Jews who want to practice yiddishkeit, their misbehavior is in many ways more destructive and farther-reaching than the misbehavior of, say, a Roman Catholic who makes life hellish for another Roman Catholic.
It is deeply dishonest of frum Jews to excuse the nasty behavior of other frum Jews by saying, “Religious Jews are people, too. You can’t expect them to be perfect!”
No sane, reasonable human being expects “perfection” of other human beings.
What people who’ve left frumkeit complain about isn’t *imperfection” among frum Jews.
What they complain about is frum Jews, again and again and again, knowingly and willfully and intentionally acting with full malice aforethought in ways that aggressively and grotesquely violate Torah’s most basic precepts in order to make life hellish for other Jews.
In other faiths, people believe that G-d judges and redeems them *individually*.
As Jews, we believe that G-d judges and redeems us as a *nation*, as a *people.*
In other words:
In Judaism, a few bad apples really can spoil the whole barrel.
Your problem is that you went black hat. The modern orthodox community is full of ballei t’shuva, and there is no stigma attached.
Whether one has the G-d gene or not, we all have so much to be thankful for that I find it almost instinctive to want to be close to G-d. I only wish my yetzer hara would sometimes let my good instincts do it better!
Have you ever truly thanked G-d for the incredible pleasure of laughing? For the incredible pleasure of scratching an itch? Going to the bathroom? For a hearing a moving piece of music that tears at your heart and gives you goose pimples? Have you ever thanked G-d for your nose hairs that keep out so many dangerous germs? How about cream cheese? How about the pleasure of cream cheese on matzah? How about the pleasure of how great your clothes feel on your body or that great belt you are wearing that has ready made holes that hold your pants up. What about your knees that move along so smoothly with some kind of WD40 ball joint fluid? Have you ever thanked G-d for your elbows? For your bike? For your air conditioner? How about the fact that you can see someone whom you have not seen for 20 years and instantly remember his/her name? I could go on but there is not enough memory in this computer to list all the kindnesses.
I have an idea. How about all the readers of this site to quickly jot down 50 things that they are grateful for. Seriously–lets do it. Its so much fun!
Hatzlocha v’ Bracha to all!!
EMES ROCKER
Seems to me that Emes Rocker has listened to many Rav Avigdor Miller tapes.
Der Bik,
You inspired me to do a lot of venting on my own blog. I am what you call, “not a real Jew.” I converted Orthodox, only to be told over and over again that I am not welcome here. I work for Jews, though. I guess I’m their goyta, but, I would feel weird showing up in pants or otherwise breaking dress code. The post is long and drawn out. However, it looks like there should be link a link to my blog when I put this comment through by clicking on my name. The post itself is called “HATE regret and mistakes, Orthodox Judaism at it’s finest.” It’s a must read for anyone who liked this post. and mine is longer than this post.