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I have a great deal of respect for people who can listen to opposing viewpoints and admit when they're wrong. We should all do that.
Thanks, but one of my core beliefs is that you can't pretend to believe things that you don't.
That means you can't continue to defend views that you've learned are wrong just because you hate to lose an argument. It's more important to learn the truth and change what you believe than to remain undefeated. Philosophy is a chess game, and losing a match doesn't put any blood on you.
Cnorman18, if I may ask: why Judaism? Is it because you share the values of the religion--it's compatible with your views? Or because you think Judaism is the most likely religion to accurately reflect the truth about god? Or something else?
You may ASK... *cough*
Seriously, I don't mind. I get that question a lot, especially from other Jews (a lot of them can't imagine why anyone would want to DO this).
You know how I like to write, and it's a long story, so bear with me. I don't usually talk about it much, for reasons that will become apparent, especially in one aspect. Why I feel it's okay to talk about it HERE, I'm not sure, but I do. Maybe it's because I trust smart people. I think you usually have to be dumb to be cruel.
Anyway:
The overwhelming majority of converts to Judaism do it because they're getting married to Jews. I've got nobody and want nobody. Most of the rest have fallen in love with the culture, the history, the food, the rituals, the whole family/tribe/civilization thing. Not me; I have a hard time with all of that.
For me it was, and is, purely theological and intellectual. Head, not heart. And there's a reason.
I started to write a long section about this, but it was pure self-indulgence, so here it is, straight up; I am an extremely high-functioning autistic. I only found this out about three years ago; before that, I always thought I was just strange (and so did most people in my life). Well, I AM strange, but now I understand and accept it. I actually kind of like who I am, peculiarities, blind spots and all.
It's a spectrum disorder, and manifests in a lot of different ways. In my case, my intelligence was not impaired; I don't know that it was enhanced, either, but I was reading at a high-school level before I was five. I don't discuss my IQ except under great provocation, but it isn't low. I'm certainly not retarded, which many people think is connected to autism. It's not.
For the rest, it works out this way: high-order language skills, obsessive interests that come and go, a peculiarly retentive memory, an inability to form emotional connections, and an inability to "read" nonverbal cues--facial expressions, tone of voice, etc. (which is why I like the Internet; words only, pure intellect).
In general, a hyper-intellectual and compulsively rational approach to everything. Emotion is irrelevant to me. I HAVE them; they just don't matter to me much.
I can feel angry or sad or happy, but it's all in my head; it's hard to explain. Others usually can't tell what I'm feeling, because it doesn't show. I sometimes have to consciously check to see how I feel myself. I live entirely in my head, and it's as likely as not that I won't notice if I feel depressed or happy. I'm usually conscious of feeling nothing at all, emotionally speaking.
I'm neither cold nor callous; on the contrary, I am very warm and friendly, I know maybe 10.000 jokes and tell them well, and I'm as faithful a friend as you could want. It's just that all of this is cognitive; I care about people intellectually, and I don't miss them when they're not here. I can get choked up over a sad story, and seeing a person suffer makes me ache for them, like anybody else--but that applies equally to family, friend and stranger. I just can't feel love or devotion, or a need for a companion or even company. I'm not lonely. I don't even really understand what that means.
Why does all this personal hoo-hah matter to the question? Here's why: I'm incapable of making myself believe something that I really don't. If it strikes me as irrational, no matter how much I SHOULD believe it, I just can't overrule what I know to be true or untrue. In a way, I guess you could say I was born a skeptic.
God knows, I've tried to fake it. I was raised Methodist--for my money, the best of the Christian denominations--but even as a child, I never quite bought into the whole Jesus thing. Since I could have no emotional attachment to either baby Jesus or the bleeding Saviour, and the heart-tugging hymns and emotional trappings had no effect on me, I just couldn't get with the program. On the other hand, I felt obscurely certain that there was a God; I just couldn't see what He had to do with Jesus.
Now people like me can be a little obsessive about pleasing others. Maybe it comes from getting in trouble so often when we couldn't tell what Mom was feeling or what we were expected to do, from being blind to all the subtle cues that other people take for granted (that also makes us very good listeners); but for whatever reason, I wanted to be a good and faithful Christian and get the approval of others. So I tried to ignore my doubts and disbelief and faked it.
I also tried to resolve them in the only way I knew; cognitively. There MUST be a way to understand these things, I thought--everyone around me believed them, so why couldn't I? So I studied theology and even went to seminary. Surely the next tome of badly translated German Christology, ecclesiology, eschatology or ethics would make it all clear and I could buy into it all with a clear mind and a clear conscience.
Never happened. After three years in the ministry, I finally bailed out and started managing a Pizza Hut. I kept a sort of eclectic faith that cherry-picked the parts that made sense--the ethics, mostly--and ignored St. Paul and Jesus and most of the NT.
Especially Revelation. Worst and most useless book in the Christian Bible, and I taught that from my pulpit.
I had always liked the OT, though. Where the NT was always a closed book to me, the OT sang. These people were real; not a perfect and flawless Holy Man in the bunch. Noah was a drunk, Abraham a near-child murderer, Jacob a conniver, Moses a cowardly, tongue-tied killer, David an adulterer, Solomon a sensualist; most of the Prophets were just ordinary, bumbling Joes that REALLY didn't want the job--if this book was supposed to be holy propaganda that made these guys out to be better than the rest of us, their agents weren't reading the scripts.
And the language! When Amos, a poor man with a menial job and no scholar, stood up to blaze away at injustice--his words could have blistered the paint. Psalms; these are words from someone's heart, and they aren't all mindless praise. Take a look at Psalm 88 sometime. There's no light in it, no God-will-make-it-all-OK deus ex machina BS. This was written by a man on the ragged edge of suicide. Having spent some considerable time in that neighborhood myself, I recognized the scenery, and it was nothing you'd show people that you're trying to get to move in.
There was some stuff in there that I didn't like at all, and some stuff that was mind-bogglingly boring--page after page of "begats", for instance.
So what? When I had the Beatles' White Album on vinyl, I used to skip over half the tracks. The other half were worth it.
Anyway, time passed, as it generally does. I fell into teaching, which I loved, and into a 20-year nightmare marriage. I got married because I was supposed to--everybody else did--and as with Christianity, I figured that there MUST be a way to make it work. Bad idea. You can't love somebody because you're supposed to, or because you want to, or because it's the right thing to do. For me, it was like a colorblind man trying to paint. It didn't help that she was a cast-iron witch, either. So I eventually bailed out of that, too.
20 years after I left the ministry, I began to read about Judaism, in books actually written by Jews. And for the first time, I found the things that I had ALWAYS believed, all in one place:
There's no list of stuff you have to pretend to believe.
What you believe doesn't matter anyway. God is interested in what you DO.
Nobody's going to Hell because they're not in our little club.
Everybody is welcome in Heaven, and nobody gets a preferred seat--or a ticket in advance.
How do you get in? You know how. Be good--and you do too know what that means. Now quit screwing around and go do it.
None of that stuff about Heaven is important. There may not be a Heaven anyway, and there's probably no Hell; we don't have the brochure.
If you have to be promised a lollipop if you're good and a spanking if you're bad, you're not getting the idea anyway. This is a religion for grownups.
If you've done something rotten to somebody, don't ask God for forgiveness. You have to go to the guy you hurt. God can't help you with that.
Nobody's going to wash your sins away forever. Here's some soap; give it your best shot, then get back to work. Keep the soap--you'll need it again.
Here's a book. You don't get the book so you can throw away your brain.
There's some good stuff in it, and some bad stuff, and some stupid stuff too, but it's all worth reading; it's kind of like life that way. Find the meat and throw away the bones.
If you're not sure, ask somebody you think is smart and good: but mostly, work it out for yourself.
If somebody tells you something stupid and says it comes from God, you don't have to believe them.
Nobody is holy, but everybody is sacred. Bow down to no human, and treat no human with contempt.
Life is sacred. Shed no blood, not even animal blood, unless you have to--and that doesn't mean "want to".
And so very much more.
I stopped counting the books I've read at 100, and I haven't heard a false note yet.
Anyway, after learning about this religion that everyone outside it thinks they understand (when even rabbis will tell you that they're still working on it), I decided that I had to convert, if I could. It takes about three years. I became a Jew at the age of 50.
If I had had the emotional connections to Christianity that most Christians do, I could never have done it, but as it was I walked away and never looked back. I've never doubted for a moment that it was the right thing, for me, to do.
I don't think it would be the right thing for anyone else. It's been worth it for me, but it hasn't been a walk in the park. Most of my family no longer speaks to me. Good thing I never felt the tug of those bonds much anyway.
This is a lot more than I intended to write, and a lot more personal than I intended to get. I dithered for a day before deciding to post it.
What the hell. Somebody wants to use this as ammunition against me, especially my peculiar neurology, to prove that I'm wrong in a debate--well, that would be contemptible as well as invalid, and I'll feel free to ignore anyone who would do it. Worst-case scenario, I stop posting, go elsewhere, and keep my mouth shut next time.
I'll close with one of my favorite quotations, from Frank Zappa:
"It has now been reliably determined that
God does not want us all to be the same."
Peace.
Charles