Picking up a good read

I have, in the past two weeks, found a new way to spend the first 45 minutes of my weekend. As a member of my congregation who attends services almost every Friday night, I am constantly handling the temple bulletin, but rarely ever looking through it very deeply.

It was on one particular Friday night that a member of the community gave announcements from the brochure, reminding everyone of the Torah study session that would take place the next morning. It was during spring break, a week in which I had slept a very large sum of hours, so I decided to cut my sleep short that morning and go to the 9 a.m. study session.

When I got there, I was the youngest member of the group. I was welcomed with open arms, making me feel instantly like part of this small, yet cozy, community.

As the other group members got coffee and mingled, the Rabbi entered, and began to lead the discussion based on the weekly portion.

Instantly I was amazed. The deep thinking and search for meaning was breath-taking, form the first lines of the Torah to the last sentence of the conversation. I was overwhelmed with the insight of my fellow knowledge-seekers, and felt as though this, THIS, was what Judaism, but more specifically, religious practice, was all about.

After the 45 minutes were up, everyone talked for a few minutes, and departed on their separate ways. I had enjoyed this so much that I was considering coming back the next week.

That is when the first rough patch showed up. After a week of homework, stress, and sleeplessness, I was faced with a decision: Give up an hour or two of sleep on Saturday morning, or catch up on the lost relaxation.

I finally decided that I would set my alarm and get up. I could sleep some other time, but Torah was waiting.

Again, I got to the group, and again we discussed, debated, disagreed, and deliberated on the best ways to interpret the words. What was most striking was that we all were reading from the same book, yet of the twelve people in the room, each was reading the black letters a little differently.

This was, quite possibly, one of the most meaningful events of my Jewish life to date. I have never been able to have conversations with such a range of ages and life experiences as I did in those two sessions. I was able to grow on a personal level, finding my own interpretation of the words, and yet grow as a member of the community.

Additionally, the ability to question what we are taught is a principal in Judaism that makes it so intriguing. In some religions, people are taught to simply "drink the coolaid" and not ask questions. Judaism, on the other hand, encourages people to question. In fact, Yisrael, the name that Jacob took up and would later lead to the name of our homeland, means "one who struggles with God" and is where we get our drive for debate and struggle.

I love these classes. I love the ability to find a place in my community. And I love the struggle. Especially, I love to know that I am not struggling alone, and that I am, rather, grappling with the same words that my ancestors have been discussing for thousands of years. That is what Judaism is all about.