Glimpsing Behind the Veils

A New World Perspective From An Ancient Source

2007-09-03T08:29:00.000-07:00

I'd set my sights set on joining the Army since my early childhood. My father, a World War I Veteran, would recount stories to about his experiences during his days as a Soldier. He'd prepare by licking his yellowed, calloused fingers meticulously just before rolling his "Buglar" filterless cigarette. Well in his sixties by then, he was able to roll his cigarette while hardly looking and never missed a beat. Within seconds it was lit up and his war stories began. The stories were never glamorous or romantic: quite the opposite. But, they were intriguing and caused a reaction in anyone listening: sometimes gagging, sometimes a grimace or two, and always a sense of awe in what the man had endured. It was a kind of "superman" survival story telling in my young eyes. I wanted to experience some of that amazing life for myself.

So, as soon as I could get into some semblence of a military uniform, I joined up. My first military experience was the Junior R.O.T.C. in high school. I dawned my olive green fatigues; capped it off with the green baseball cap and leather boots and rushed to my father's room to proudly model for him. He was in his mid seventies by this time. As a result of his years of Buglar smokes, he had developed a severe case of emphysema. All he could manage to do was sit up from his bed and say, "Entrele, Mija! No tenga miedo!" Roughly translated in English, "Go for it, my girl! Don't be afraid!" This is one of the last things I recall of my father and I connecting. He died not too long after this.

In spite of my high school counselor's advice not to...I later decided to pursue a college degree in nursing. This led to an R.O.T.C. scholarship and then active duty as an Army Nurse Corps officer. My travels took to me to the middle east twice during my career. My first trip to the desert was during Gulf War I: Desert Shield/Desert Storm. What a magnificent experience. It had its pros and cons, of course: the sweltering heat, the harsh tent living conditions, and never mind the scuds. However, when my mind was not engaged in the war, I was fascinated by how Saudi Arabia was "frozen in time." And what a marvel of a time in world history: biblical history. Sometimes I would simply stop and look out into the wilderness near our camp enjoy the bedouins in their biblical garb, riding camels, herding sheep to who knows where. The beautiful, colorful tents and rugs set against the drab sand scapes were awe inspiring. The white of the men's robes was almost blinding at times. And, of course, the language and customs which had not changed since the time of their biblical heroes.

This time and space adventure, for me, caused me to reflect on my mundane American life-style. That which I held in great esteem or gave any sense of import to was all being called to question now. While others among my military family looked upon this ancient world as "backwards" or "out of touch" I rather thought of it as more profoundly rooted to what G-d intended for us as human beings on this earthly plain...

Cruising For G-d On Auto Pilot

2007-08-11T11:17:00.001-07:00

For several years after deciding to remain in my "comfort zone," I simply wandered about calling myself either Christian or Catholic depending on my mood. In my early 20's I think I finally decided that Catholism was much easier to follow what with its structured services, prayers, and the "simply sit there and listen" stylings. At least the language had become easier to understand since my early childhood. As a child I would sit in the pews wondering what in the world the Priest was trying to convey. You see, the Catholic services of old, even in the United States and in churches catoring to poor project families, were conducted in Latin! Latin! How many Chicano families in my neighborhood actually understood Latin? I would venture to say none, exactly. It was all we kids could do to master civilized English.

I have to admit that for a time in my young adult life, during periods of desparation and great self-doubt, I bought into the notion of whispering promises to ceramic statues in return for great rewards. Today, the notion of "bargaining" with G-d for my own sake or gain seems so completely removed from my "wiring" that I can't imagine ever having believed it was appropriate to do such a thing.

Like most in the church, I was on auto pilot. Mechanically following along. Never questioning outwardly. But, oh on the inside: that was a different story. So many questions that were not to be uttered. So many doubts that could be considered Heretical. I dared not utter a word of it lest I be condemned to "the fires of hell for all eternity." Just the mere thought of this was enough to keep me referring to myself as "a believer." Of what exactly, I wasn't too sure, but damn it, I was a believer...

Choosing the Perfect Idol

2007-07-29T12:24:00.000-07:00

In high school I had a best buddy who, like me, was seeking answers to questions relating to the universe, our purpose, and the after-life. He was, however, much more adventurous that I. Ray decided that he would study and learn about Hinduism, Hari Krishna and the like. He talked to me about multi-headed, multi-armed, half-beast creatures with specialized magical powers. The statues and idols he spoke of and showed me reminded me of my Catholic church days. Forget that we couldn't hardly pronounce their names. I mean, come on...two kids from the project...really!

Rubbing a fat man belly statue for luck or money just wasn't the answer I was hoping for in terms of where I fit in the grand scheme of things. Were life that easy, surely I would hit the lottery without any effort and so would all of my neighbors if all I had to do was rub the Budha's belly. Could all of life's ills be addressed so simply? Magical talismans and good luck charms...I maybe believed it for two seconds, but logic took over after that. My life was too complicated to put my faith into creepy cement, plastic or wooden pieces of art.

All of this made my water-walking Jesus buddy seem more practical. At least this god had a friendly and familiar face. You know the one...brown, long wavy hair; light skin; light brown or in some cases blue or green eyes depending on the artist's preference. How could he not be attractive to any normal, healthy female? What puzzled me was how this passive, kind and handsome man was so attractive to other men. Even today, I wonder about this? I mean, really...Jesus isn't what many would consider a "man's man" afterall. The love professed for this man has been described by some anectodal male commentators as feeling as though it may have "gay undertones." Word of warning ladies...If you can't seem to get your man to church, consider that he may be uncomfortable expressing his "love" for another man the way many do through the Christian church. If your man is all too comfortable...you may want to consider this, too.

But I digress...So I decided to stick with Jesus for a while...seemed like the only "comfortable" thing to do.

The Jesus Loop - Must Reboot

2007-07-02T17:24:00.000-07:00

During my time as a Christian, two major concerns always gnawed away at me as I spent time in the New Testament. First, while Jesus seemed like the nicest guy ever on earth, it bothered me that I could not get past his “human-ness.” What I mean by this is that all I read or studied pointed to the fact that I was being encouraged to “be like Jesus.” However, there was the realization that, loving kindness aside, I could never possibly raise the dead, heal with a touch or walk on water. I mean really…this was quite a stretch.

The other problem I had with Jesus was that I felt like my thinking processes were always caught in a kind of software “loop.” You know, like when your working diligently on your computer and the program gets stuck. The only solution is to “reboot.” However, I could never get my thinking or belief system to “reboot” out of the notion that if Jesus was born of flesh and blood how could he possibly be referred to as a god and if he was a god, then what use did he have for a father and mother or creator? What creator needs a creator? And where did this leave Mary? If a god becomes one with a woman (marries her, if you will) then how could he seemingly just “kick her to the curb” like a common “baby daddy?” What manner of god was this? To let a precious mother of a god just fade off into obscurity even to the point of denying he even knows her? What message is this for a young adolescent to take home?

Then there was the “equal time” being given to talk of or reading about demons and the satan. So much intellectual effort was put into describing demons and the satan that I concluded there were actually two gods in the Christian church. One (or three in one) who owns all that is good and one who owns all that is bad. It seemed to me that equal power was given to both in all the New Testament teachings. That both, Jesus and the satan, were distinctly separate entities being described: gods in their own right. This reminded me of my Catholic experience where the foundation teaching was to fear those things that “go bump in the night.”

No…the more I studied the more I questioned, the more skeptical I became. None of it made any sense to me. I just knew that I was becoming more and more fearful of the dark, demons and dying. What manner of creator was this that created such horrible fear in people to the point of fearing one’s own shadow. Where was the joy in this? What’s more, the Christian mentors around me did little to provide explanations that made any sense. It all sounded like they were talking in circles. “He’s god and flesh at once…but, Jesus is not god, but rather god incarnate…now let’s pray…Lord Jesus…” What the…?

Suffering Jesus Transformed

2007-06-11T16:09:00.000-07:00

One of the first things that strikes you as a young child in the Catholic church is the ever-present "suffering Jesus" hanging on the cross: thorny crowned, scantily clad, bloody, sad, and dying. A constant reminder that he did something extra-ordinary to provide me a ticket to heaven. A constant reminder that I should be obedient no matter what. This is just one of the ploys used to "keep the Catholic in line." Others include stories of angel and virgin "visions" which could happen to anyone, anywhere, although I never personally knew anyone who had seen either. This kind of hysteria building is, I suppose, what causes people to see the Virgin Mary and Jesus-es in their tortillas, toast, screen doors, and oil spills under their cars. I always used to refer to these as the "tortilla gods." Numerous news stories tell of people flocking from miles around to take a peek at one of these "tortilla gods." Many claimed miraculous healings as a result of these spontaneous "pieces d'art."

I believe that another form of hysteria-building art can find it's source in the Catholic church and/or Christianity: vampires. Think about it! An evil person from hell with powers to draw you into their arms or cause you to let down your defenses and allow them into your bedroom...sounds like a typical date night these days...is able to be stopped by the power of the cross. Holy water also comes in handy and it never hurts to have your New Testament in your pocket. All this and a priest and you can "exercise" the devil out of your neighbor's teenager. All of these things and more that go "bump in the night" cause many a demon and devil fearing Christian to sleep with their lights on at night. A great way to keep congregants coming back each week for a re-charge to the invisible defensive shield promised by many a priest and pastor.

Another marvel of Catholicism is the confessional: verbalizing your sins to another human being (the priest) who has the authority to absolve you of them. I always believed that being able to talk about what bothers you to a close friend had the same effect without the requisite, repetitive prayers to the Jesus god's mother. I still don't understand why she was able to clear me of my sins. I still wonder, where was the one tru Creator in this chain of command and why so many layers?

As a teenager, I turned my spiritual quest away from Catholicism and toward Christianity. This seemed to work better since now the Jesus god's mom was out of the picture as were all of the rest of the community of statuary gods. Another positive sell was the fact that I no longer had to "confess my sin" to another human being or stranger.

Noteable, too, was that the Jesus god was no longer suffering. He was now transformed into a sort of personal "buddy." Prayer took on a new format: a more informal "coffee talk" than a prayer. I could now simply ask for whatever was on my mind or in my heart without restrictive boundaries. That was quite liberating. The music, too, was far more pleasant and heartfelt than the typical church hymnals I was used to. I think that was my favorite part of being a Christian...the lovely, folksy music stylings.

Another noteable difference from Catholicism was the more intense Bible study. I was actually encouraged to read and study religious texts. Somehow, though, there was still somethng not quite right...

Catholic Learning Let-Down

2007-06-03T15:27:00.000-07:00

The concept of "heaven and hell" always struck me as something of a mystery. Not so much in what either would seem like, but rather how is it that so many human beings on earth could find it within themselves to confidently describe "heaven" or "hell" as if they were some far off lands. The confident manner in which people wrote about or orally described with such detail the sights, smells and experiences. It was as if people had received brochures in the mail replete with photo journaling and historical essays about these foreign destinations. I'll admit that as a child, I bought into it. I could see these places vividly in my mind. Additionally, the fear of ending up in the misery of "hell" for all eternity was enough to keep me focused on my "salvation" and all that I had to do and think in order to maintain it.

The priests: stoic, aloof and unapproachable I always thought. Of course, recent stories about priests have proven that there were sufficient numbers of priests scattered throughout the world with pedophile tendencies. I thank Hashem that this was never a problem for me or anyone of my friends (that I am aware of). The nuns: solemn, angry, and impatient. It must be that they were quite an unhappy lot, I suppose, such that in today's church they've been removed altogether from public view. Were they really that bad for "PR"? Used to be that nuns were the primary teaching staff for what was referred to as "catechism classes."

The nuns mode of dress in my catechism days, was long, black robes with long sleeves and a "habit" or head dress that revealed only their face. I recall later registering for a class at a local community college where one of the instructors referred to herself as "sister." I couldn't resist: I asked why the title. She stated that she was, in fact, a nun from a local convent. Her mode of dress? A bright red, off-the-rack, short dress with plunging neckline! She educated me on the fact that her particular sect of nuns had adopted a more "relaxed" attire. That was it for me...I knew then...it was over. All that I believed up to then to be unchangeable...wasn't.

It was during my adolescent years that I really began to wonder about the content and validity of my Catholic learning. Quite honestly, I can't say with true conviction that my learning up to then was profound, meaningful or othewise helpful. For a time, maybe two or three times over the following five to six years, I turned my attention to Christianity. I went so far as to join a "Youth For Christ" program through a local Christian group in my hometown. My second concerted effort at understanding G-d and purposeful living...

Follow the Leader

2007-05-27T06:42:00.000-07:00

Growing up Latina there wasn't much choice: you were Catholic. In my neighborhood, it was as fundamentally natural as knowing that you weren't going to reach the top of any corporate "food chain." The best you could hope for was to graduate from high school: a real achievement for those of us from the projects of San Antonio, TX. I checked that block...my sister never did. She chose to (or maybe not) marry early in life: a mere teen still.

We were both raised to believe that Jesus was god and that his mother, Mary, was as miraculously powerful as Jesus god. Mary is quite a celebrity, especially among Catholic, Latina females. You see, she commands quite the "paparazzi" what with her numerous public appearances in tiny, obscure villages scattered throughout Central and South American countries. I'm no theologian, of course, but I must admit that I have never heard of "Our Lady of Dublin, Ireland" or "Our Lady of Detroit, Michigan." You see...where ever she tours, she receives a new title: a "key to the city," if you will.

The latest and greatest news from the Catholic world is that Catholics "honor" Mary and the saints: they don't "pray" to them. I'm here to tell you, we were taught not only to pray to Mary and the saints for miracules, but to sacrifice to them. I learned then, and people around the world to this day, pay money, go on lengthy food fasts, as well as walk, run and crawl on bloody knees for very long distances in order that they might "seal the deal" for a miracle or two. Often times, the sacrifice itself is to the detriment of the health or well-being of the petitioner. The Jesus god was never part of the deal. I didn't understand then and still don't "get it" to this day. But I played along. That's just what you did as a Catholic. No questions asked: just follow the leader.

Berishit: My Jewish Journey Begins

2007-05-22T17:33:00.000-07:00

Tonight is May 22, 2007: Shavuot. A fitting beginning to launch the story of my Jewish journey. Unlike many other stories, this one starts not at the beginning, but somewhere in between. You'll know later why this is the way it must be...You wouldn't otherwise believe me.

Sitting in my tiny office, at work, in front of the Catholic priest. Head in hands, eyes to the floor. Tears endlessly pooling up and pouring down on the tiles like tiny raindrops. The priest motionless. Mute. How does a Catholic priest answer the question, "Where is my loved one now?" How, indeed, after hearing about the sudden death of someone who lived a life "outside the lines." Outside of the traditional, New Testament standards.

"Where, Father? Where," I cried. "I need to know!" Still...no answer. His eyes welled up with tears as well. A look on his face as if to say, "I have but one answer, yet cannot speak it." We both sat crying together for a seemingly endless amount of time. No words would quell my pain. My heart exploding; my body ceaselessly aching; the tears - endless.

Where would I find the answer that would anesthetize the pain? How could I know for sure that my sister's demise was not a result of my failing? Where was the magical man who walked on water now? Where was the man who could raise the dead? No footprints in the sand. No miraculous, weeping virgins. Nothing. No one. I was alone...so alone.

God: Going Beyond Our Human Limitations

2007-05-20T18:48:00.000-07:00

A great starting point to begin the thinking process about God and about our limited thinking about God: http://www.tikkun.org/rabbi_lerner/god.

What Can You Expect From This Writing Experience?

2007-05-19T18:38:00.000-07:00

A Historical Look At The Jewish Experience Over Time
The Multiple Reinventions of Judaism: "Cookie Cutter Failures"
Jews As Numerous As the Stars? Is It Time Yet To Begin To Mobilize Toward This End?
The Ethnic Dilemma
The "Ten Sefirot," "Eminations From God," and Torah Ties: What Does It Mean To Me?
Do I Only "Do," Or Do I "Do And Understand?"
Optimal Love
Optimal Parenting
Optimal Leadership
How To Become "Hebrew Smart" In 90 Days or Less
Unlocking The Mystery To "Quick Searches" In The Torah Scroll
True Accountability Of Synagogue Leadership
Why Parents Make The Best Rabbi's
Interfaith Childrearing: Or, How To Lay A Foundation For Chaos In The Home