Soldier boychik: Disenchanted Chasid turns to the military

And here's the English version.

http://www.jta.org/news/article/2012/02/26/3091847/soldier-boychik-disenchanted-chasid-turns-to-the-military

HOT 'N BOTHERED

My latest article on Unpious.

And my unpolished version:

Monsey isn't exactly known for being the hottest place on earth, but put on a three piece G&G suit, woolen tzitzis, a long sleeve bottom down shirt, and a beaver hat, - and boy oh boy, it gets hot in a hurry! Growing up it didn't really bother me that much, it was what we were all used to. I even went to Yeshiva in Israel, and endured a summer there in the sweltering temperatures, all the while wearing the standard-issue uniform of the Chassidish. Looking back it turned out to be a good thing.

As I stepped out of the St. Louis airport into a heat index I’d never thought possible, I was glad I wasn't wearing that get-up anymore… Until that day, a Chol Hamo’ed trip to Washington DC was the farthest south I’d ever been, and now I was on my way to start Army Boot Camp in Fort Leonard Wood Missouri, in the middle of june.

“GET ON THE BUS!” “HURRY UP!” It’s hot as hell, is all this yelling and running really necessary? This is what the Jews must have felt like when they were rushed out of Egypt, maybe that story about the matzo is true… AC on the bus? Of course not, I should have known that would be too much to ask for…

Once we got there, the first step was a buzz-cut, which I was used to, and wasn't unwelcome thanks to the oppressive heat. But just when we thought we were (slightly) comfortable, it was time to put on our nice new uniforms. Knee-high woolen socks, combat boots, cargo pants, jacket, and hat. As excited as we were to put them on, they instantly added ten degrees, even indoors! Add to that the fact that in Boot Camp everything is an emergency, and you choose not to run everywhere you go at your own peril… The sight and smell of sweated-soaked boots and uniforms became very familiar to all of us.

Lucky for me though, I grew comfortable wearing all those layers much sooner than everyone else around me. While most of my counterparts were used to wearing not much more than shorts, t-shirts, and flip-flops, I - on the other hand - had been wearing the full Chassidishe regalia just a short time before. Eventually though we all acclimated, and we grew accustomed to wearing not only our uniforms, but soon added body-armor, helmets, and started carrying a weapon around at all times. I got so sun-tanned that to this day I’m still mistaken for Puerto Rican.

But that was years ago, since then I’ve had the pleasure of experiencing extreme heat - in “full-battle-rattle” - all over the world. Sure we bitch and moan about having to wear all that gear, but given the choice, I wouldn’t want to go to the places we go, and do the things we do, wearing anything less…

January 2010, in the dead of a southern winter, I along with my unit was in the field “playing Army”, when a call came over the radio for me to report to HQ. I rushed over not having any clue what to expect, and the first words out of my commanders mouth were “what languages to you speak Getzel?” The Army pays me extra money for being proficient in Yiddish and Hebrew, and my superiors are aware of this, but obviously weren't clear on the details. “Uh Yiddish, Hebrew, why sir?” “What’s Yiddish?” “Uh it’s kind of like German, with a little Heb - “ “so it’s not French?” “no sir it’s not French” “forget it then”.

At all times there is one unit in the US Army that’s on the presidents speed dial. If anything pops up anywhere in the world, they have to be “boots on the ground” within eighteen hours of the presidents word. Eighteen hours may sound like a lot, but that means from the moment the president issues it, the orders have to pass down the chain of command, down to the lowest private on the list, everyone has to grab all their gear, assemble in a predetermined area, get on a plane, and get “there”, wherever “there” might be… All in under eighteen hours, and this includes holidays, weekends, leave, pass, drunk, or any other excuse you may have. You miss the plane, and you're a deserter, and you don't want to be a deserter…

To my luck, It was my units turn to be on standby, and Haiti had just been hit by the largest earthquake in it’s history, and guess who just dialed 911… We had to pack our stuff and race back to base because we were going to Haiti, and they were desperately trying to identify anyone who spoke French or Creole. (I don’t)
By the time we packed up our junk and drove back to base, there was a gauntlet of shots, pills, crash-courses, and briefings already waiting for us. We were told not to eat or drink anything not provided to us by the Army, expect tropical hot and wet weather, oh and by the way, the HIV rate is 95% so go ahead and take your chances...

When we got on the plane it was snowing and cold, only a few short hours later we landed in Port Au Prince in the middle of the night, but it was near 100 degrees. As soon as the cargo doors opened it was like a blow dryer was suddenly turned on in our faces. And the humidity! We were instantly drenched in sweat. But there was no time to dwell on that, we were instantly put to work. Unloading planes full of food and water, then loading them up onto choppers, and flying around to designated areas and emptying them. We did that for days without stopping. It was by far the hardest work I’ve ever done in my life, but also the most gratifying work. Meanwhile I got so sun-burnt I was pealing skin for weeks, lost a bunch of weight, and got to hang-out and work with Sean Penn. In addition I became the impromptu interpreter between the American and Israeli military and medical teams, and got to meet the Israeli ambassador to Haiti.

All the while we had to stay in our beloved uniforms, fight for access to cold showers (which turned out to be teeming with e-coli), and eat space shuttle food and water only. I “borrowed” some Israeli cookies out of the ambassadors car (stale), had some rice and beans with the Israeli medical team (bland), and tasted some French military rations (not bad), but for the most part we starved.

The one good thing about the desert compared to Haiti is that at least in the desert, as soon as the sun goes down, the temperature goes down with it. Not so in Haiti. It was hot and humid 24/7, and unlike other places we deploy to, Haiti was highly visible. The farther you get from garrison life and big-wigs, the less stringent the uniform standards become. Head-gear and jackets come off, t-shirts come untucked, pants cease to be tucked into boots, and faces go unshaven. But in Haiti we were on display for the world media at all times, plus we were surrounded by high-ranking types everywhere we went. So we had to stay all prim and proper at all times, no matter how uncomfortable we were.

One of the valuable lessons I learned in Haiti (besides that we Americans are unbelievably spoiled) was that humans are incredibly adaptable, we didn't have AC in our truck or tents, we had awful food (and not much of it), and work like slaves at all hours of the day and night. But no one complained, one look at the suffering of the Haitian people, and we felt privileged.

Sure wearing 18th century Polish clothes in 21st century America, is silly, Peltzs, shtreimelach, strukess, and shteevel, and for that matter, head-to-toe dresses, and shpitzels, have all outlived their usefulness, and serve no purpose, much like the buggy-whip. But before you shed a tear for those poor shlubs, remember that just like anything else in life, you get used to it. For the most part, chassidim aren't walking around wishing they could do away with the penguin suits, and just like habits, priestly frocks, cowboy hats, and bell-bottoms, they're all style choices that may be out-dated and goofy, but they don't hurt anyone. And as in the military, the farther away from the “home base” they get, the less careful they tend to be about wearing every article of clothing as prescribed. Go to Miami Beach, or the four corners in South Falsburg on a summer motzei-shabbos, and you’ll see what I’m talking about…

The main reason Chassidim still wear their uniform to this day, isn't very different from why we in the military wear much of what we do. Instant identification. It’s the reason the Marine Corp. patented their cammo pattern, the Army forbids rolling up jacket sleeves, and why the Air Force and Navy have uniforms that wouldn't fool a blind person.  Chassidim can spot each-other a mile away, you could be going 75 MPH on the thruway, and out of the corner of the eye you see a Honda Odessey, filled to the brim with little Chassidles. Once your eyes have grown accustomed to a certain pattern, you become very good at picking them up, so too in the military, we need to be able to instantly identify friend or foe, (the individual military-branch differences is just ego).

So grab your gartel, grab your shirtzel, grab your skinny jeans, and grab your ascot, and lets hug it out, and sweat it out together.

It Gets Besser

For those of you wondering, I'm the last guy in the video.

FREEDOM

Being a minority, of a minority, of a minority (former Chassid, in the Army), I think I have a special appreciation of freedom. Not that long ago, I was full-blown Chassidish without a care in the world, shtreimel-bekishe, beard-payes, and proud of it. When I finally left that world I chose to join the US Army, were I learned to appreciate freedom all over again. I was made to memorize the words “I am a guardian of freedom and the American way of life”, while having my own freedoms severely curtailed.

When I was a kid ‘freedom’ meant something else entirely, I was ‘free’ to listen to Moderchai Ben David, I was ‘free’ to go to day camp instead of staying in school through the summer, I was ‘free’ to spend Shabbos with my (slightly-less-than-Chassidish) cousins… But no matter the decision I made, my parents would be there to steer me in the right direction. “You’ll grow out of the whole music-listening thing, studying Gemarah all day is far more important”, “day camp is for little kids, once you start Yeshivah - you won’t even want to go to camp…”, “the Mechitzah isn’t as tall as ours’ at our cousins’ because we’re better Jews”.

For years I felt I’d been given extraordinary amounts of lee-way, relatively speaking I was hardly micro-managed, I went off to Israel to Yeshivah and was pretty-much on my own, I was consulted whether I wanted to learn full or part time after marriage, I was my own man. But as soon as I dared to flex my freedom to ask questions, I was told to “shut-up, and sit down”, “have some more faith”, “just study some more”…

Fast forward to today, and my idea of freedom is very different. Being free to screw up, and actually learn from my mistakes is a good thing, not having an entire community tell me exactly who, what, where, when, I was going to do everything in life involves some decision-making on my part, but it’s freeing!

When I lost faith in all things supernatural, it was at once quite liberating - no more worrying about Gehenom - but at the same time it signaled the beginning of personal responsibility. No more “Im yirtzeh Hashem, I’ll be fine”, now it’s up to me to make it happen… As one of my (false) idols Penn Jillette says: “freedom means the right to be stupid”. When I mess up now, instead of blaming it on divine will, I’m forced to re-examine what I did, and determine what went wrong. God is a crutch used by many people as a cover for laziness, “it’s not my fault that I can’t pay my bills, it’s bashert”.

Americans love to fetishize freedom, not to mention the military. I’ve become sensitive to the ‘F’ word as much as to religious terminology, coming from the world that I do, I feel uncomfortable with any sort of ritualistic worship. Whether it’s blind patriotism, or unconditional love for the military, we should always be skeptical, it’s our God given freedom!

I’ll be out of the Army in a few months, and for that, and so much more I celebrate freedom.

The Directors Cut

Here's a link to an essay I wrote for Unpious.com, and in case anyone's interested, below is the unedited version. Let me know which one you like more.

Far be it from me to blame the victim, but…

Vehi She’amdah La’avosenu Ve’lanu, blah blah blah… I’m waiting for Shulchan Orech, I’m here for the Shmurah Matzah, and Gefiltah fish, I really couldn’t care less about rest of this. I got up at five in the morning, ran eight miles, worked all day, and I have to do it all over again tomorrow. Afikoman better not be past Chatzos...

Pesach never was one of my favorites, too many rules, never enough food, constipation, not to mention all the cleaning, taping, covering, etc… In fact, one of my first kosher transgressions was to eat Gebrokts.

Across me sits a four-star General, to my left sits a Colonel, and at the head of the table sits the Frum Chaplain, a Major. I’ve been in the Army long enough to learn to keep my mouth shut about my background - ironically around my fellow Jews! When I was in Korea, I made the mistake of telling the Jewish Chaplain my life’s story, and from then on whenever we’d see each-other it would turn into a Kiruv session, so when I got back to the states, I was careful not to advertise my history. Until I got drunk. I had come back from Haiti just days before, was in the mood of celebrating, and decided to go to the on-base Purim party. Before Megillah had even begun, I polished off an entire bottle of Patron Silver, and by the time the festivities began, I was hammered. I don’t remember much of that day, but I must have spilled the beans, because suddenly I was called “the Satmar guy” (I never was Satmar per se, but to outsiders we’re all “Satmar”) . I stayed away for a while after that, I didn’t want a repeat of Korea, but people are constantly coming and going in the Army, so I felt safe showing my face again this year for the Seder.

“So any ideas on why we have been persecuted in every generation?” The Chaplain/Rabbi asks the crowd, “because y’all are God’s chosen people” says the General, a fifty-something African-American Christian. Of course he’s gonna say that, what else would he say… And so the conversation goes on for a couple of minutes, when out of nowhere someone asks, “maybe we’re doing something to deserve it”.

I’ve been to some strange (by Chassidishe standards) Sedarim, but I’ve never heard anyone drop this sort of doozey, I carry a healthy amount of Jewish guilt, but even I found the implication a bit harsh. I have wondered if maybe we overstate the amount of hatred there is out there for us Heebs, one of the most common questions I get when I go home for a visit is whether I encounter a lot of anti-Semitism in the outside world, and specifically in the army, (the answer is no). Of course the question gained everyones attention, a universal condemnation, and a hasty change of subject, but I couldn’t stop thinking about it.

First a disclaimer: I am in no way diminishing, or apologizing for the terrible suffering Jews have suffered for thousands of years, but...

On the one hand, isn’t it a good thing that we talk about persecution, in order to preventing it from happening again? “Those who don't learn from history are condemned to repeat it” - right?

On the other hand, we Jews are a bit obsessed with our own victimhood. As the old Jewish holiday cliché goes: “they tried to kill us, we survived, let’s eat!” Every time we turn around, there’s another reminder of some misery from the past, whether it’s Purim, Pesach, Channukah, Tisha B’av, or countless other times throughout the year. To be sure, every culture in the world has an explanation as to why they are the most persecuted in history, whether it’s the Christians by the Romans, or the Tibetans by the Chinese. But we Jews have definitely perfected the art of victimhood. At what point though, does it go from “lest we forget”, to being a fetish?

One of the (few) things I’ve learned from serving in the army, is the effect “collective suffering” has on team building. It could be actual suffrage like you and your buddies getting shot at together, or even going through the joys of boot camp together. Or it could be emotional suffrage, just knowing that the guy to your right or left is willing to take a bullet for you, makes you closer. Similarly, when you’re taught from day one, that everyone’s out to get us, and everyone hates us, it fosters an “us vs. them” mentality, and pulls the “us” closer together.

It may just be a self-fulfilling prophecy, the more we talk about it, the more it’ll happen, I’m convinced that is what makes the JDL, the ADL, and other groups like them tick, “when you’re a hammer, everything looks like a nail…” Plus - maybe what goes around, comes around, let us not forget all the wonderful things we’re taught to believe about non-Jews, remember im hachamor/am hadomeh lechamor..? (Ask your Frum buddy…) Not to mention all the mindless slaughter that happens throughout Tanach, and is excused to this day.

I’m usually the last person to defend Ultra-Orthodoxy, but when it comes to playing the victim card, no one does it quite like the non-Frum. If your whole Jewish identity consists of the Holocausts and the state of Israel, it doesn’t leave much else to get excited about, and when somebody dares not to join in on your particular orgy of self pity - people get offended. Not that everything the Frummies claim about the Holocaust or Israel is true, but in their defense, at least they’re consistent. Their entire lives revolve around Judaism, so they’re understandably not impressed by people -whom they hardly consider Jewish - demanding they join them on their arbitrarily chosen date to mourn. I don’t agree with them, but if you look at it through their point of view, it’s understandable.

I’m not suggesting “forgive and forget”, but instead of accepting anti-semitism as an inevitability, we should take steps to stop it from happening. There will always be ignoramuses, but there are steps we can take to minimize, and marginalize them. Whenever I meet new people I wait till they get to know me a bit, before letting slip that I’m Jewish. More often than not, I get “you’re Jewish?!” Yeah, what did you expect - horns?

It’s easy to hate someone you don’t know, it’s a whole different story once you get to know them. It’s a lot like when people who’re anti gay suddenly have a close family or friend come out of the closet, they’re forced to rethink their assumptions, “I know that guy, he’s not crazy… Maybe they’re not all nuts…” I’ve found that most of what many people would take as anti-Semitic, is actually just ignorance. I’ve gotten some shockingly stupid questions, but I’m always careful to answer them seriously and never take them personally, and I hope I’m slowly chipping away at ignorance.

Or maybe I’m full of crap, maybe it’s not even worthy of discussion, maybe we just need to shut up and take it, what the hell do I know...

…Back to the Seder though, where the Rebetzin is explaining that the tsunami in Japan was caused by god because they’re imprisoning two Israeli kids on drug charges, plus Moshiach’s definitely coming this year, and she knows this because when everyones electricity went out during a recent storm, the moon shone on her house…

I’m cringing, this getting downright embarrassing, this just sounds like those 2012 fairy tales… Oh screw it, why do I even bother? These people are lost, maybe we can save their kids…

Sex Ed

"Stop staring at the mannequins, it's not good for you..." my mother said, I don't know why, but I like looking at those bikinis, I thought. What did I know about sexual attraction, women, or sexuality at all, I probably didn't even know the word bikini. All I knew was we're in Macy's to look for a pair of shoes for my Bar Mitztvah, and my Mother just caught me staring at the mannequins. I was mortified.

That was the first and only time my mother ever came close to discussing sex with me. There was no "Talk", there was no "Birds and the Bees", or anything gloriously cringe worthy like that.

My father on the other hand was a lot more brazen, one night a few weeks before I got married, I was trying to explain to him that I was used to taking showers in the morning, having done so in Yeshivah for so many years. Never one to mince words, my father says to me - very cryptically - "once you get married, you're going to want to take showers before bed - you'll find out why..."

Growing up Chassidish, boys and girls are so well segregated, one almost didn't know the other existed. We went to separate schools, rode separate buses, played separately, and generally avoided each-other. In Yeshiva once, the Rebbe was trying to say something about females, but instead of saying "women", or "girls", he described them as "the other kind". While studying Gemmoroh, whenever we came to a section that was too explicit, we'd skip it.

All this blissful ignorance is supposed to come to a screeching halt right before you get married, and you have to "do the deed". Usually about a week or two before the wedding, the bride and groom each meet with a "teacher", who proceeds to fill them in on the facts of life. The myths and urban legends that surround these classes are just wonderful. Of course there's the ubiquitous "hole-in-the-sheet" one, (not true) but the best ones are about people passing out, or running out of the room screaming, refusing to believe their ears.

One thing I've never been able to live down is the issue of whether to kiss, or not to kiss in the "Yichud Shteible", I was an innocent little boy, and I didn't know about the unwritten rule that apparently every Jewish Bride knows. I failed to kiss my new wife. And to this day every time we get into an argument, she'll say something to the affect of "well, if you would have kissed me in the yichud shteible..."

Ultimately the system must be working though, because the more religious they are, the more kids they have, so they're learning something from these classes...

The problem though with quashing any and all to do with sex, is the abuse scandal that we're witnessing now. Kids aren't taught what's right, what's wrong, and what to watch out for, add to that the sexual repression inherent in keeping teenagers, and young adults so segregated, and you're bound to have problems. Should the Frum community allow their kids to be just as free and open as the rest of society? Not necessarily, but there has to be something between, total ignorance/vulnerability, and a complete sexual free for all.

But again, what the hell do I know..?

PTSD? Hah! Been There, Done That. Thanks Yeshivah.

Dear Diary;

Today I talked to a friend, who's being discharged from the Army for having PTSD. While I wouldn't fathom equating my life experiences with with his, I couldn't help noticing how familiar some of  the symptoms sounded. Obviously PTSD is in the news a lot these days, and especially being in the Military, I'm very aware of it, but I never thought about it in relation to myself, until I discussed it with my buddy.

After speaking to this buddy, I looked up the symptoms of PTSD, and what do you know - out of 17 symptoms, I have about 10 of them. What the hell?! I'm not depressed, I'm not traumatized, what's going on?

The first symptom that jumped out at me was " Feeling jumpy and easily startled", I hadn't really thought about it, but I flinch at the slightest hint of what could be a possible physical threat towards me. When I say "possible threat", I'm talking about gestures that most people wouldn't even notice or would ignore, for example high-fives, back-slaps, and the like.

Beyond that though there was, "feeling of intense distress when reminded of the trauma", "feeling detached from others and emotionally numb", and "hyper-vigilance". Plus a few others that I recognized in myself. 

I guess now would as good a time as any to back up and explain what "trauma" it is that I'm talking about, I'm talking about Yeshiva. More specifically a certain Yeshivah.

Shortly after I turned thirteen, my Parents sent me to a "sleep-away" Yeshivah located in my home town. By the afternoon of the first day I was calling home in tears, begging my Mother to come get me. In trying to describe the physical, and emotional abuse that went on there, I'm doing the place a disservice. Beatings were so normal a sight, they were completely ignored by other students, Rebbeim bragged about how much they intimidated us, and kids walked around with bruises, welts, and all sorts of marks.

Besides the physical abuse there was the mental pressure put on us, every second of the day was controlled, starting with the wake up at the crack of dawn, to the fifteen minutes we had to run to the Mikvah, haul ass back and be seated at our spot, and heaven help you if you were seconds late, all the way to laying down on the left side and waking on the right. Not tolerated were: Laughing, talking about anything aside from what we were studying, contact with the outside world, no food or snacks outside of the three meals served to us (fifteen minutes a meal with no talking), no personal books, or tape players, and on and on. 

And the rules! There where rules on everything, from our hair-cuts, to how many showers we could take a week, and what kind of soap we could use, to what kind of underwear we wore. Violation of any of these rules resulted in a beating, if you failed a test you were promptly beaten, if you were caught dosing off in middle of the day you were beaten, pretty much anything was cause for a good beating.

Now when I say beating, I'm not referring to a little slap or even a backhand to the head, I'm talking about all out UFC style - anything goes straight up beat-downs. Fists, elbows, sticks, and anything handy were all fair game. I've seen coffee jars used as weapons, heads slammed through drywall, chairs and trash cans thrown, all in one session.

The truth is I couldn't possibly portray an accurate picture of the place within the narrow confines of this blog, I could go on for days, and still not do it justice, I have enough individual instances to fill a book, but just suffice it to say that we lived in constant terror. Yet on the other hand we grew immune to the beatings, it got to the point where we bragged about how badly we got hit that day, I even remember thinking to myself one day, that today was the first time an entire day has gone by without being hit once. That day was one and a half years into my time there.

Over the years since then, I've thought about what the thought process was behind their tactics, and I've yet to come up with anything concrete. I'm sure somewhere deep inside, these people thought they were doing the right thing, on the other hand, there is no doubt in my mind that at least some of them got off on beating these defenseless kids, in fact some of them positively relished it.

Before I go on I must clarify that I was not by any means what's known as a "problem child", I wasn't a trouble maker or anything like that. On the other hand I was not a Masmid either, I was an above average student in subjects that interested me, but just average when not, and the same could be said for the majority of the rest of the kids in that Yeshivah.

I attended the Yeshivah for two and a half years, at first I begged my Parents to take me out of there, I showed them bruises and marks, all over my body, but it was a dead end. My Parents being the naive BTs that they were, believed that anyone with the title Rebbe, Rosh Yeshiva, or Menahel (Principal), could do no wrong. No matter what I said to them, the answer was the same, "He's a Rosh Yeshivah, he must know what he's doing". Eventually I gave up, and stopped trying to convince my Parents to remove me from the Yeshivah.

After I left the Yeshivah, I made a conscious effort to forget and get over my experiences there, and to a large extent I was successful. I moved on, for the most part blocking the whole thing out of my head, but certain things wouldn't go away. To this day I never sit with back to the room, I avoid talking about the whole experience, and when I do I get physically ill, (as I type this, I'm sweating, my heart is pounding, and my hands are shaking).

One good thing that came of the whole experience was, that when I went to basic training, the Drill Sergeants couldn't intimidate me the way they did all the other trainees. I remember thinking as they were yelling in my face " Is that all you got? I've dealt with a lot worse, bet you won't hit me".

So I guess by the book I have PTSD, what does it mean to me? Nothing really, I don't walk around thinking about that Yeshivah all day, it had no impact on my life aside from the aforementioned symptoms, and luckily I don't have the more serious (in my opinion) symptoms like depression and the like. So thanks a lot Moshe Lazer Blum, Shimon Goldbrenner, and a few others whose names I can't remember, I guess I'm a better person for it. (I contemplated putting addresses and phone numbers, but I decided not to.)

P.S. I'd like to reiterate, that in no way do I want to imply that my seismic lifestyle change, was caused by, or connected to any feelings of resentment, toward my parents or teachers. It was mostly an intellectual decision.

Of convert's and BT's

I always wondered what it is that Ba'alei Teshuvah (BT's) see, that I don't see. What do all those people cutting their pony tails off, and putting on Kipa's for Amnon Yitzchak hear that was so convincing? I'd listen to hours and hours of tapes, read books, and talk to countless people, but all I got was fluff, I remember thinking - "he wouldn't get me with that".

My favorite example is when I asked a close relative who became a BT at 18, what was it that made him leave his home and change his entire life, seemingly giving up a promising future, his answer was - "I watched The Fiddler on the Roof". That's it?! I was shocked! Here's a smart guy, who could have gone to college, and gone on to be anything he wanted. Instead he went to Yeshiva, got married, and became one of the many shlubs just barely making a living, and looking like they just immigrated from 1800's Europe, and all that because he watched a corny movie? (my retort to that was "I watched Big Love, and it didn't make me want to become a Mormon")

Another person I know, was on his way to becoming a Catholic priest, and (the story goes) the night before he was to graduate from seminary and be confirmed as a priest, he climbed out the window, ran to a Yeshiva and never looked back.

I have a little theory going, and I've recently discovered some others agreeing with it. I think the big Ba'al Teshuvah movement (makes me think of "bowel movement", but that's just cruel) of the sixty's and seventy's, was fueled by drugs and the counter culture of the time. People ran off to Ohr Someach in Jerusalem, for the same reason others ran to Ashrams in India, or hippie communes in San Fransisco. It was more about (the illusion of) the Shabbos table, or the tight-nit community, than a "seeing of the light", or a serious debate about belief.

Before they know it, it's thirty years later and they have a family, an entire life built, and whether they still feel the way they did years earlier or not, their stuck. Now they have to justify their actions to themselves and to others, so they bash the "outside world", mock science and lie to themselves. I'm sure some of them are sincere and believe in what they're doing, they've taken the bait hook, line and sinker, but many of them know better, they just don't see a way out.

There have been instances of BT's going back to their old lives, even with entire families, but those stories are and few in between, Why? Because as I can attest, it's not easy to uproot your family and make a huge life altering change like that, especially when the kids are old enough to understand what's going on.

Speaking of BT's, I would like to add my own take on Chabad and their Kiruv work. I have no problem with Mitzvah Tanks, or Tefillin Stations, but in my [humble] opinion, where Chabad went wrong was, first of all they went Rebbe-crazy. Everything is about the Rebbe, the Rebbe this, the Rebbe that, it's all about the Rebbe instead of about God and Judaism, in fact they worship him so much it's hard to distinguish between Meshichistim and Christians.

Secondly, instead of bringing their new recruits up to their level, they lowered their own standards in order to better suit the modern society they are trying to reach out to. The result was, instead of Lubavitch becoming a huge Chassidik group on par with Satmar, or Gur, they separated themselves from the mainstream Chassidim and became their own quasi religion. I've said this before to Lubabs and they get very defensive, but it's true, their standards, in Tznius for example, are not even in the same league as those of mainstream Chassidism. Much like Democrats, who strive to make everybody equally poor - unlike Republicans who want to make every body equally rich - (neither are unsuccessful), they've lowered themselves to the level of the people they were supposed to be raising up. But enough about that.

That's my theory, what do you think?

Confessions of a Koifer

I'd like to welcome you into the office for my first session, let me get comfortable on the couch, collect my thoughts, and decide where to begin. Get yourself situated too - after all, I'm not paying you hundreds of dollars an hour to listen to me complain, so I might go on for a while. I'll start with what authors call "the hook", which is supposed to grab the reader so they don't put the book down till it's done, here goes.

I was born a little while ago in the west coast to a newlywed Orthodox Jewish couple. Four years and three more kids later, my parents decided that Washington state wasn't conducive to the ever more strict Orthodox life they where leading. So we moved to a quiet little Jewish culdesac in New Jersey. Jersey brought us two more kids, and an even more rigid lifestyle, but when that proved insufficient, we moved about an hour north, to the second largest Orthodox Jewish community in North America: Rockland County, New York. In the eighteen years that followed my parents had five more kids, (that's a grand total of 11 for those of you keeping track) married off six of us, and joined a group who - ironically - very closely resemble the Taliban - minus the homicidal and/or suicidal tendencies. In the meantime I got married, had a child of my own, was hired and fired from a couple jobs, opened and closed a couple businesses, tried but failed to go to college, moved twice, but in all that time I was a good Frum Jew.

And then all hell broke loose... In the few years since then, I have cut off my beard, cut of my payes, took off my yarmulka, and I am currently enlisted in the U.S. Army. I went from being a ma'amin to a koifer b'ikor, from a true believer to an atheist, from a hard-right conservative to a libertarian, from listening to Lipa Schmeltzer to listening to Linkin Park.

What happened? What changed? Was it an early mid-life crisis? Did I lose My Mind? Was I upset at my Rebbe's for hitting me? Am I doing all this just to piss off my parents? Am I sad inside, and just running away from myself? Maybe I'm just rebelling the way many kids do as young teenagers, and if so why did it take me this long do it? How could I go from sitting in Kollel, and representing the OK, to joining the Army. Rachmunah Litzlan! (All these are questions and suggestions that people have raised about me).

These and other topics is what I hope to sort out here with your help, you'll just have to excuse my grammar, this is a learn as we go operation. (Praise Xenu for spellcheck)

I have discovered that telling my story, is at once very relieving and emotionally draining. In addition to that, it's hard to relate all the details in one sitting, I'm hoping that this setting will help overcome these issues.