The following is an opinion contribution and reflects the author’s views alone.
From the time I was in preschool, my Judaism was laid out for me. I attended an Orthodox Jewish school, where half the day was devoted to religious study, and prayer was scheduled. While I felt a connection to my religion, my religious practice wasn’t a conscious choice in many ways. I’d been handed a porcelain platter full of precious and carefully arranged objects before I could really understand what any of those objects meant.
This platter shattered my sophomore year in high school. I moved across the country to a new school that identified as Jewish but not as Orthodox. As a result, I no longer had classes on Navi (the prophets) or Talmud (the body of Jewish law). My only class in Hebrew was the Hebrew language, and most of my classmates were not Orthodox Jews, nor were they accustomed to interacting with them. In fact, some of my classmates were atheists.
Judaism was no longer built into my schedule; I had to work to make it fit. The pristine porcelain platter had shattered, and it was only when I saw the shards scattered across the floor that I realized how much I wanted to piece them back together. I attended a Shabbat learning session on the weekly Torah portion with my father every Shabbat before prayer services. I started attending classes at my synagogue and actively seeking out opportunities for Jewish learning in my neighborhood.
Before my move, my religion was just something that filled the day – at school and, sometimes, even at home. But it became so much more than that. Once the mechanized schedule disappeared, religion became something that I wanted to fill my life with.
That prompted my decision to take a gap year after high school, studying at Midreshet Lindenbaum, a seminary in Jerusalem, Israel. After being in an environment where I felt alien religiously, studying at Lindenbaum felt like a homecoming.
I made long-lasting friendships and had the opportunity to delve into meaningful Jewish learning. I was more able to appreciate being in a religious environment, having had distance from it, and having had to forge my own path in high school. I relished the opportunity to delve into Jewish texts and Halacha (Jewish law) with rabbis and teachers passionate about educating the next generation of Jews. Twice a week, Lindenbaum had small group sessions known as “chevrutas,” where I studied one-on-one with another student on a topic of our choice.
I had a few chevrutot during my year in Israel, learning topics ranging from Navi (the prophets) to the laws of Kashrut. The girls in my program were there to learn and devote themselves wholly to what they were doing. Nobody monitored or graded us, but that did not lessen our dedication to our learning or our Judaism. It was a once-in-a-lifetime experience that sharpened my appreciation for my religion.
One of my favorite courses at Lindenbaum focused on Biblical Exegesis, taught by author and Rabbi Shmuel Klitsner. In the course, we examined biblical texts through an analytical framework. As a writer, I found it fascinating to look at texts I had only seen from a religious lens in a literary manner. We probed the Bible and Prophets for ambiguity, repetition, unconventional grammar, and syntax in the class. More than the learning, I felt at home in the community at Lindenbaum. I forged lifelong relationships with people who valued religion and spirituality on the same level I did.
Now, I find myself at Princeton, a secular university but also a place where I feel very at home religiously. Yavneh, the Orthodox community at Princeton, is a hub of Jewish prayer, learning, and community. A deeply rooted infrastructure takes care of both basic and highly spiritual needs, from providing kosher meals and mechanical keys for Shabbat (when using electricity is not allowed) to leading daily prayer services.
That is not to say that I haven’t had my share of difficulties at a secular college; missing copious amounts of class for the Jewish holidays was challenging. I had to make up lectures that were not recorded, do readings in advance, and miss multiple days of class a week. It definitely takes work to keep up a Jewish lifestyle in such a secular environment, from creating the time and space to pray each morning to incorporating Jewish learning into my life. That being said, I feel blessed to have a tight-knit Jewish community alongside me as I traverse the complicated secular world.
(Image courtesy of Alexandra Orbuch)
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