A Story

There’s a story about a man in an insane asylum in the mid-west that insisted on eating kosher food. When the hospital refused he demonstrated his sincerity by going on a hunger strike. It became an administrative nightmare but they were forced to capitulate. They had kosher food shipped from hundreds of miles away each day for this one patient. One of the Jewish doctors was making his rounds on Saturday morning and he saw this same man smoking a big cigar. The doctor was aghast. He promptly rebuked the patient, “You turn the whole hospital upside down for Kosher food and here it is the holy Sabbath and you’re smoking a cigar?!” He took another big puff and said, “Doc, don’t forget! I’m crazy!”

Rabbi Label Lam says this story relates to the idea that we tend to act more on feelings rather then cold information alone. "When we are emotionally engaged with what our sober intellect has confirmed true," he says, "The question remains even after we are convinced of a critical fact of life like the existence of G-d."

He ends, "It's frighteningly possible to pass the written exam and fail in the practicum of life."

I related to this story in a slightly similar, but mostly different kind of way. In my path to becoming a mitzvah-keeping, shomer Shabbos, shomer Kashrut Jew, I've encountered problems similar to this so-called "crazy man." Here, a true confession.

Hopefully it won't come off as a pity party or a pathetic rant.

I'd keep one mitzvah and hesitate on another. I'd drive home after a Shabbos dinner, but stop using the phone, turning on the lights, and using the Internet when I got there. I'd stop using the phone, but text message a friend who had called. I'd come home late for Shabbos, refrain from lighting the candles because they are time-bound but do other mitzvahs. I'd cut out non-kosher seafood, but munch on a juicy cheeseburger. I'd cut out non-kosher meat but eat ice cream after a deliciousy kosher General Tso's Chicken meal. I'd wear a knee-lenght skirt with quarter sleeve shirt one minute and a tank top and jeans the next.

Then I'd feel depressed and guilty that I wasn't keeping the mitzvot. I wasn't fast enough becoming the b'aal teshuva that I wanted to be. How do I refrain from being in the inbetween? Would I always feel torn between two different worlds? My parents and boyfriend are not religious, many of my friends are. I'd get other friends telling me to fast and mourn on Tisha B'av and others telling me to go out to celebrate my boyfriend's birthday. What then, do I do? How do I compromise? I love both worlds and want to be a part of both---but is there a go-between in the religious and secular realm?

I've been struggling with the answers to these questions for some time and I think I confuse people (as well as myself) with my intentions. I have realized that I have to figure out what I really want and stick to it. There's no going back. One has to find the compromise and perhaps I am slowly finding it by going to modern orthodox houses where the kids are lenient on some rules, but pretty strict on the most important ones. Perhaps that is where my place is. But I have to make sure to get there and stay there and I have to make sure I don't go back. Then I have to convince those around me who don't agree that this is the way I'm going to be forever.

SLOWLY. This is by no means going to be done in a year, or even two or three. Eventually I will become what I want to be. Shomer Shabbos. Shomer Kashrut (the hardest for me!) Mostly law abiding. But I've learned from talking to my mentors--The Goodmans, my frum friends, my less strictly religious friends, my non-religious friends---that its just going to take time. You can't speed up the process. IF you want it happen, it will happen. If you don 't, it won't. But don't think it has to be done in a day. Or even a year. It takes time.

But I'll get there. I have faith in myself. As long as I keep growing and taking on more and more responsibilities, I'll get there.

I'm remembering that last line from that story----“Doc, don’t forget! I’m crazy!”

Maybe I'm crazy too. Maybe we're all crazy.