The seeds of thought and doubt.

I dont quite remember when it happened but one year my father did go to shul on Yom Kippur and somehow he opened his eyes to the world he once thought was filled with folly- it was the world of organized religion. He said that Rav Yasimm Hagen- a sfardi ultraorthodox rabbi had traveled from Israel to return lost Jewish souls to Judaism on this very yom kippur he decided to come. This rabbi found something special in my father- a sort of intellect and wonder of the world and with this gave him the power to change. And change he did- his life as well as ours. That life was never the same again. At first it wasnt much- sending me to school with a kosher lunch, teaching me about the torah every shabbat, us washing hands and eating challah with the family. We stopped watching tv after kiddush and my father stopped shaving his beard. Instead we spoke about stories filled with adventure and lessons. Stories about Abraham and his travels, stories about Yosef and how he survived a dangerous pit and being locked up in one of the worst jails in the world. They opened my eyes and my mind and I began to think about deeper things; less childlike thoughts;ones less dense. Life began to be filled less with beaches and bathing suits; less of shopping and dressing up; less of catching crabs and getting into trouble on the lake. Life stopped being about boardwalks and music. Life became less filled with movie theaters and popcorn. It had less colorful clothes and lightheartedness. I was eight years old but my roots of what would create the very foundation of my began- my genesis of thought. The beginning of never ending thoughts that until today I cant stop. Its like a noise that permeates my every move, a noise that wouldnt stop pounding at my heart and mind; the thoughts wouldn't stop bambarding me. Thoughts about eternity; about right and wrong; about questions like what does God expect and want and ask of us? Soon enough the harmless rules about what I ate and what I did on my weekends began to impact my day to day life as a kid. The picture painted of God began to be less and less wondrous and more filled with fear and rules. I wasn't aloud to hang out with certain friends, wear the same clothes. I wasn't aloud to go out to eat with my friends and soon enough the city where we lived didn't provide the necessities needed for this new life. We had to leave this place where I called home to a place my mind always paints as dark and unclear. To somewhere less stable, somewhere filled with the rules of God and what we thought He expected of us.

Lost in Freedom

Ocean City, MD was the most comfortable I ever remember us living. I went to public school with my sister and we busied ourselves with crab fishing, playing, and getting into trouble. We would say Kiddish friday night and keep basic holidays but nothing else. Actually my dad really hated the religious movement and he made it a point never to fast on yom kippur. Their new love for this wonderful country kept growing and we were as free as ever. Away from family or friends telling us our life style we chose was corrupt. We wanted a life far from the political Israel and far from the complicated social trends of the Jewish world. This didn't last for long and we kept upgrading our life to a better bigger house with more and more cars and televisions. Life was so simple here in America and we lived right by the ocean. I would hang out with my dad on his stores on the boardwalk. I dont remember him much but I do remember having a great childhood. Thunderstorms on the beach were moving and sunsets after long days laying on the beach. It was a time I remember that was very simple with nothing and noone to worry about. My mother had her friends and my father had his and we knew the neighborhood kids and families. We had parties and get togethers and bbq's and trips.

This life wouldnt last long and one Yom Kippur came that Rabbi Nassim Yagen came to this sinful city. The happy life in this city wasnt going to last long and he came to profess everyone's near destruction.

My Genesis

My least meaningful beginning was my birth but it is my first beginning and for that its my personal genesis. I began in a snow storm in Los Angeles California in Sanai hospital. My mom claims there were ovens in the rooms since they didn’t know how to deal with the cold. She said it was her favorite place to live but my dad being the competitive Israeli he is, broke his leg in a basketball game. He was working for my uncle at the time and my uncle could not give him the money we needed to live so he returned to Hulon Israel in a little house near my grandmother’s house. I might have only been two but I remember vividly that I had a queen size bed and I loved my room because all it could fit was that bed and nothing else. We had such a little kitchen that any time more than one person would step into in, my mom would start screaming in hebrew at them to get out. I loved that tiny little apartment.  It might have been the most run down place we ever lived in but it felt like home. About a year into living there my dad decided to go back to the states and find a way to return. His eyes were open by all the states had to provide and he wouldn’t let it go. He opened a store with my uncle Eli in Israel and and right when it started earning them some money he left to Ocean City, MD where he found a friend to open a t-shirt store on the boardwalk.He sent for my mom who was very ecstatic  to come back to the country she too fell in love with. He set up the house for us and my mom packed everything up in Israel on her own with my older sister and I. I remember that was the plane that we left my blanky on. If you ever had a niece or nephew with a blanket you know its very traumatic to lose it, its like they lost a good friend. Little did I know though that it was more that I left in on the way to America that I thought I did. I was only four years old when we made this move but I remember how my eyes shown when I saw our brand new house by the boardwalk of Ocean City Maryland.

Holon, Israel