A Kofer’s Conscience
Shtreimel2011ReflectionsOff the Derech
Credit: Lawrie Cate
My New Year’s resolution eleven years ago was simple: I would not transgress any of His commandments even if I stopped believing in their validity, even if I started questioning His very existence. I wanted to retain my love for all things Jewish. I loved, and still love, not only the kugel but every superstitious ritual down to the minutia of unwritten customs and practices. Nothing gets me more excited than rising for kesser during mussaf, holding the two ends of my tallis with widespread arms, slipping the shiny silver atarah over my head, and hitting anything within distance to the right and to the left with the thick woolen fringes. It’s how I was raised, and it’s how I’d hoped to die.
Shul-going, however, presented a problem: If I was a heretic, I couldn’t be counted in a minyan, lead the prayers, or be called up for an aliyah. In the beginning I took the farhesia thing seriously, until I read a tshuva from an earlier godol that a kofer with a conscience must refrain from leading public rituals even if his misdeeds are unknown to the public.
To be tested on the first day of Rosh Hashanh, in a universe without design or designer, may seem trivial, but it wasn’t trivial to me. On that first day of Rosh Hashanah someone decided to buy me an aliyah. On the verge of creating a full fledged scene I decided to “just do it.”
During the hafsakah I had time to contemplate my newfound source of guilt. But mostly I was frightened. Retribution was sure to come. Someone somewhere, most likely a heimisher yid, will die for my sin. Maybe a bus full of frum yidden will be blown up in Jerusalem. Maybe worse.
The fright increased during shofar blowing an hour later. After a promising start, the rabbi’s air ran out, literally. He couldn’t blow. Sounded like a car engine in loads of trouble. I was so afraid that the rabbi would turn and point to me, that I eyed the door nervously. But the gabbai took the shofar and finished the job, my agony now only delayed, the consequence was still sure to come.
I had to wait almost a full year. Just before the next Rosh Hashanah, after having kept, more or less, my previous year’s resolution, I got called to the Torah at a late minyan one morning. I protested, I didn’t want it, didn’t need it, let someone else do it, but the gabbai was persistent. Considering that last time had brought no consequence I was aware of, I obliged. And the very next day, at the exact same time of morning, 9-11 happened.
I have not walked into a shul since. Not even to say kaddish for my father – who unexpectedly died the very same day I forgot to put on tefillin for the first time in my life.
16 Responses
Oh horse-puckey!
Someone who denies the existence of any gods cannot also be superstitious.
I myself do retain one unfounded fear: that if I stop observing the halacha, all the blessings of last-minute food and clothing that have come our way will disappear.
It’s a habit of the mind, then, rather than a logical conslusion reached by exercising the intellect?
Rationality and feelings don’t always fuse. I’m bound to juggle them as I see fit.
Of course, there’s always a probability of fiction with anything I write in public…
Shtreimel- I totally feel you. “Rationality and feelings don’t always fuse.” The ingrained feelings that are etched into you are not easily shed. I dealt with this them in “00″ published on this site.
Great piece, btw. Although the last few sentences – 9/11, and then father died – stretched a bit too much, I thought…
Ruthie, horse puckey yourself. People who don’t believe in any sort of Invisible Sky Fairy can be superstitious. The guy who won’t go to a meeting without her “lucky” green pen is superstitious. So are compulsives and gibbertarians and all of us really. We have magical thinking built into our brains. It takes serious training, constant effort and a lifetime of vigilance to occasionally be rational instead of rationalizing.
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I agree with ruthie. How can you call yourself a kofer? A name branded to you by those that you no longer believe in? So in fact, you believe in something..still.
On a seperate note- this piece reeks of fiction. ( far- fetched fiction and an overcompensation of sophisticated vocabulary – but this memoir..or whatever it is has no real meat…- you say you dont believe- but ultimately youre no different than the thousands of others who feel they have something to prove …same ole)
lissa:
You are entitled to your opinion; however you reek of a troll.
To critique this piece is one thing. To snidely remark that the author is “no different… feel they have something to prove,” marks you as just another jerk who enjoys using the anonymity the Internet provides to casually throw around nasty comments no civilized person would be so callous to say to someone elses face.
just another troll …same ole
Since when is “troll”ish to share my opinion? Yes i do believe theres an underlying need in soe of these articles to prove oneself ( as a person who is no longer religious) you are right JUSTIN- I am entitled to my opinion. And I respect yours. newsflash- this whole site is anonymous ( hence the pen names and such)
APerhaps I was harsh – but I wasnt cruel. When you put up a piece up online ( or in paper) You can expect almost anything.
I said the paper didnt have meat- to clarify I meant it needs more plot, more dialogue…just more. but guess? what its my opinion.
I didnt say anything cruel ( like if i say its revolting or pathetic or whatever) And yes- same ole underlying theme Ive seen here many times before . …some wroters here take my nreathe away because tehy bring something new to an old concept ( the whole otd thing) And some pieces on here are…same ole. Im entitled to speak my honest ( but uncruel ) opinion
I am with Justin on both counts.
The superstition Shtreimel feels is different than the guy with the lucky green pen. Shtreimel’s superstition is a logical conclusion originating from a set of beliefs (which may not in themselves be rational), which he no longer believes in, but probably did believe in at some point. Even when the foundation for the superstition doesn’t exist anymore, the superstition can remain, because the human mind does not recalculate every established result each time from scratch, rather relying on its earlier conclusion. Not so different than the concept of muscle memory.
The only way to purge these superstitions is to make an effort to consciously rethink EVERYTHING.
Please say this is fiction.
LOL-
Looking back at my original comment, I think perhaps I could have been less blunt. Not only was I not raised with superstitions from birth, I also seem to have been raised with my foot in my mouth. This is why I can never be a community counselor of any kind…
I should know better, anyway; superstitions are not the only possible result of lifelong indoctrination. The idea that the “heavenly scales” can be tipped one way or the other by any one person’s actions must be a difficult idea to reason with, especially if you’re trying to do it yourself.
My apologies to you, Shtreimel.
Say… Is a segulah something that is based on superstition? You know, kind of like magic? (The ones I know are probably more unique to women, and Chabad.)
For example:
Reciting Tehillim (as a charm, rather than a conscious prayer)
Eating a piece of cake or other delicacy from a bris (for conception)
My community’s women’s 100-brachos Rosh Chodesh parties
The red string bracelet
Letters to the Kotel
Divination from the Rebbe’s Sichos (is that Chassidic bibliomancy?)
Rebbe Dollars
Rebbe Mashke
A little patch of the Rebbetzin’s wedding veil sewn onto yours- or better yet, her entire wedding veil set over yours
Reciting the Twelve Pesukim as you walk by 770
(okay, I made that last one up)
And this list doesn’t even address how your own deeds could affect the rest of the world. There’s a separate tradition of segulas for that, isn’t there?
As far as the truthfulness of this essay is concerned: does that mean calling it horse-puckey may- or may not (???)- be appropriate?
Ruthie I am surprise you did not mention all the segulos which come with saying Yechi. I suspect you were raised in an anti family.
Streimel I found this piece a little overwrought as opposed to many of your other pieces which had a more genuine feel to them.
oh my gosh you’re right! And how could we forget letters to the Ohel?
(No, I was not raised in an anti- family; for more info, follow the link in my name to my blog.)
Thanks for writing this, Striemel. I am actually in therapy and this comes up a lot! My shrink calls it magical thinking, and it is something I am working hard to rid myself of.
It comes from being brainwashed my entire life.
Hang in kari. It probably will never go away entirely but it gets better.
you said the first aliyah was the first day of Rosh Hashana, then the second one was also the first day of Rosh Hashanah. 9/11 was not the second day of Rosh Hashana, it was actualy before Rosh Hashanah. so there you go.
The pendulum of the mind alternates between sense and nonsense, not between right and wrong. -Carl Jung
I would add that for those born into faith, questions are sense and superstition is nonsense. For those born out of faith, purpose is sense and abiosis is nonsense. Therefore old blood exits and new blood enters.