I was at a supermarket today (yesterday) and noticed a young woman also shopping. From her appearance, and the way she was dressed, I strongly suspected she’s Jewish. There aren’t many Jews in this part of Dominican Republic. When I see one, I try to say hello. It’s mostly secular Israelis I encounter. This woman is religious. I figured she’s married to one of the Lubavitcher rabbis in town.
I said something to her in Hebrew, and she quickly responded. We chatted, and it turned out I was right; she is married to a local Lubavitcher rabbi.
Perhaps I should recap my own history with Judaism and with Lubavitch Hassidism. I became religious at 15, and a while later I was taken in by Lubavitch in a somewhat nearby city. I lived in their facility for a couple of years, finishing high school. After that, I moved across the country to a yeshiva (a Jewish rabbinical school) in New Jersey. The yeshiva was run by Lubavitch. During my time there, I realized that the Lubavitcher version of Judaism wasn’t for me. I moved to Israel and remained Orthodox, but not Lubavitch for many years. I drifted away from religious observance about 25 years ago.
The woman mentioned to me that tomorrow (today) is Yom Kippur. This is the holiest day in the Jewish calendar, and fasting is mandated by the Torah. It’s the only day of the year that the Torah obligates us to fast – but I don’t fast; I’m not religious anymore…
… and yet I’d rather not know exactly which day Yom Kippur falls on until after it’s passed; otherwise, I feel guilty eating. Religion does that to a person, even years after becoming secular.
Shortly after falling asleep, I had a nightmare. I was in a bus in what looked like Jerusalem, Israel. Shortly before my stop, I saw a tiny little girl crying in the middle of the street. No adults were around her, and traffic was whizzing by her. Nobody paid her any notice. I was horrified and yelled at the bus driver to stop the bus; I needed to rush out to comfort the little girl and help her get to safety. I woke up shaken. I was tormented and troubled.
It took me a while to figure out that the little girl is my soul. It still feels lost without the shelter of Judaism. Religion will do that to a person; I don’t think a person ever truly gets over it.
I’m not against religion. I think it’s necessary for a functional society in most cases. Societies that abandon religion stop having babies or they adopt some sort of secular religion, such as Communism or Wokism.
It must be especially difficult for ex-Muslims, considering the hold Islam has on so much of the world and how pervasive it’s becoming everywhere in the West. If there are any ex-Muslims reading this, I hope you take comfort in the fact that it’s not Allah who’s constantly calling you back into the fold. Rather, it’s something psychological that’s built into our very DNA. As for me, I find salvation in other, more fulfilling, ways than organized religion.
The little girl does have a home.
