How can I hope to make you understand, why I do what I
do;
Once I was happily content to be, as I was, where I
was;
Helpless now I stand with him, watching older dreams
grow dim;
Oh, what a melancholy choice this is – wanting home,
wanting him;
There where my heart has settled long ago - I must go,
I must go!
(excerpts from 'Far from the home I love', Fiddler on the
Roof)
'I pity your soul', he told me, 'if you continue to go
on with the path you have chosen'. He suggested I had a free choice of choosing
down which path to tread on, as if that choice hasn't been made and sealed long
ago.
This was the grim end of a conversation I had on the
last Rosh-Hashana, the holiday celebrating new beginnings, of forgiveness and
brotherhood. Lately many of those I recognized as friends, people I trust and
love, turn cold and lose touch when they get a drift of what I'm going through.
Liberal ideas and trends turn out hollow when it comes to a friend in
transition, striving for higher grounds, experimenting with concepts and
ideals.
Most of my best friends are religious, most of them are
recognized religious figures in their society, does that mean I have to
disconnect? Shun and be shunned? I don't think so!
After the "uplifting" arrogance-treatment on
Rosh-Hashana I didn't know where I'll be on Yom-Kippur, somewhere I could go
through the traditional experience without needing to apologize for loving it
without really buying the whole faith package. It's ironic that I ended up in a
very strict orthodox yeshiva, praying alongside fervent believers, rabbis living
secluded lives totally devoted to G-d, and young wanabees imitating the moves
and tears of the seasoned students. There, my ideology and set of beliefs
weren't questioned, the surrounding practitioners were too busy with themselves,
and I had some clear private space to meditate. Time to meditate upon
forgiveness, upon a lonely G-d never to understood by those who he loves, upon a
society that never apologizes to their religious-frenzy road kill since it's
Kosher. As if a rabbinical permission makes it morally fine to bleed a fellow
Jew.
I've heard atheists say quite a lot about religions
being responsible for killings along history, not yet have I heard talk about
the bleeding hearts of those who love these archaic structures while being
stabbed by them.
Why can't a friend hold me tight and tell me that
friendship does not lie only on mutual beliefs, but on something deeper that is
able to honor diversity?
Indeed, my everyday life involves seesawing between two
different worlds – physical and conceptual, experimental and mythological,
practical and cultural; I don't need you to bring my attention to it, neither do
I need you to nudge me towards the "right" decision, all I need you is to be my
friend.
Like the 'Uncle Moishe' song –
Don't walk in front of me, I may not follow;
Don't walk behind me, I may not lead;
Just walk beside me and be my friend.
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