Are we meant to think of self-sacrifice? Of the Akeida? Of listening to G-d no matter what?
Should I feel humbled? Full of awe? Is this raspy cry meant to remind me of my deeds? Of the things I've been running from?
Baalei teshuva get reminded of our backgrounds in the most obscure ways. Here's one example that's coming up a lot recently: Chassidim do not understand Polarfleece.
It's not until way into the night, when the summer sun is completely gone and the sky has finally settled into blackness, that Zvi's dad emerges from the storeroom.
A journey into my once biggest fear: losing my religion.
More than a few people on their way out or fully out of the fold have asked me how I could choose Chabad as a way of life. "You had every choice in the world. WHY would you choose this? WHY would anyone choose this?" I am going to answer that question as earnestly as possible through this imaginary conversation between someone who is on his or her way out and me. I'm not trying to answer for every chozer/chozeret b'teshuvah -- these are my answers.
Tsivia was the girl all the boys wanted to tease, then wanted to marry, then could never find the courage to talk to.
Suddenly, no other words on the page mattered. I saw in these words such simple power, such truth, that I couldn’t ignore it. I saw there, too, a poem.
There was something different about us, those whose parents came to halachic Judaism later in life -- and I wondered if it was just me who noticed it.
