Attending My First Torah Study

For this Shabbat I was invited to my very first Torah study at a local synagogue. I'm not exaggerating when I say that by the time I left quite giddy and elated. 

I want to start out with a little disclaimer that I will be making a lot of references to my Catholic upbringing in this journal entry. This is not to say that Judaism and Catholicism are even remotely similar. On top of that, for much of history Catholics (and other Christians in general) have played a strong hand in the oppression of Jews. I'm coming more from the perspective on reflecting on my childhood experiences in comparison to my experiences in Jewish community, as someone who personally had a largely negative (and at points, traumatic) experience in the Catholic church. 

After pulling into the synagogue lot and finding a parking spot, I sat in my car for a few moments. I found myself suddenly quite nervous. What if I accidentally did something disrespectful? Would I get weird looks for not knowing the words to the prayers? What even happens at a Torah study? Come to think of it -- I didn't even know! But what I did know is that I needed to be there. So I got out of my car, slung my bag with my notebook and Tanakh over my shoulder, and walked inside. 

The door was opened for me by a man likely in his 50s with a stubbly beard, bright eyes, and a green kippah. "Welcome!" He said cheerily. 

"Thank you!" I replied, already relieved by his cheeriness. "I'm here for Torah study, but this is my first time here, so I'm not sure where to go."

"Follow me! I'm Daniel -- and we have a lot of Daniels here today already. So if you forget someone's name, Daniel is definitely a good guess." I chuckled at his joke and joined him in toe. He led me into a bright and sunny hall that had four long tables configured in a circle. Daniel grabbed a Tanakh and a handout from the shelf and handed it to me. "I know you're right on time, but we probably won't start for another half hour. Sit wherever you'd like! I'm going to go grab some breakfast." Daniel grinned at me briefly before heading over to the breakfast spread, where there were bagels, coffee, and fruit. 

I found myself a seat and placed the Tanakh on the table in front of me. From another room, I could hear the sound of piano playing, and people singing in Hebrew. There were a few people already seated at the table, most in casual conversation with each other. 

I took a breath to ease my nerves (I'm certainly not immune to social anxiety) and looked down at the handout. We were going to be reading Parashat Bo Exodus 10:1-13:6. This wasn't a surprise - because I'm a nerd who loves to be prepared, I had already looked up the passage and read it ahead of time. It also was not a new story to me, but of course, I was familiar only from a Catholic point of view. 

Growing up Catholic and going through CCD, Bible study was never approached from a collaborative or community perspective. The way I was taught, there was one singular way to read it that was Right, and vocally challenging these particular perspectives was frowned upon and even reprimanded. I remember once in my CCD class, when a child questioned the teacher with a different point of view. He was then chastised by the adult teacher for having braces on his teeth, and was told to go to reconciliation for changing his body. He was eleven. Needless to say, question asking and debate were usually less than welcome in my childhood faith community.

But that is nothing like how Torah study went at this synagogue. We went through and read section by section as a group, and then the rabbi posed prompts and questions for those gathered at the table. Each person gave their own perspectives with clear comfortability and ease. People disagreed with each other in a friendly and nonjudgmental manner. I got the feeling that no one in the room believed that there was One Way to read this text. People asked questions, changed their minds mid sentence, and were candid and genuine. 

And the whole time I was there, I felt so engaged and intellectually stimulated. I am a nerd through and through, and I love analyzing literature. Yet it wasn't just intellectually stimulating, but spiritually as well. Despite my pre-shul nerves, once I walked through the doors I never once questioned whether I should be there, even as a non-Jew. Something about it felt deeply right, and I felt an unexpected sense of belonging. 

After Torah study came to a close, the woman who was seated to my right introduced herself. She tells me her name is Rebecca, and asks if I've been here before. I tell her that indeed it is my first time here. 

"Are you visiting the area?" She asks me. I pause, and feel that I too, need to be candid. 

"No actually, I live about 10 minutes from here," I respond, slightly chewing on my words. "To be honest, I wasn't raised Jewish, but have been considering converting. My friends suggested I reach out to a rabbi and immerse myself in Jewish community, so that's how I ended up here!" I can feel my own sheepishness -- embarrassment, even, creeping up my throat. I didn't want to seem like I was gawking or observing anyone, and I was worried about sticking out like a sore thumb. But Rebecca smiled. 

"Welcome. It sounds like that was the right thing to do. What did you think of your first Torah study?" I suddenly found a smile stretching across my lips. 

"I really enjoyed it. I think I will definitely be back." Rebecca mirrored a smile back at me. 

"I hope to see you again soon." She said, briefly squeezing my arm before bidding me goodbye. As I start to get up from my chair, the rabbi comes over to greet me. 

"Welcome back, it's nice to see you again!" He tells me. 

"Thank you so much, but actually, it's my first time here!" I respond. 

"Oh, my bad!" Says Rabbi. "You looked so familiar, I thought you've been here before. So nice to meet you, I hope to see you back." He is then whisked away by someone called Anna, who was clearly brimming with questions and excitement. They walked away towards his office deep in conversation about Bo. 

I placed the copy I had been given of the Tanakh back on the bookshelf, and headed towards the door. "Shabbat shalom!" says someone at the door as I make way out. I pause for a moment before replying. 

"Shabbat shalom!" I respond, and then head out to my car, without a doubt in my mind that I will say the same thing next Saturday when I return.