The Baalei Teshuva Project: The Jew I Already Was
By Mariel Berlin-Fischler
In the fall of 2012, I unwittingly stepped into the story of countless growing Jews before me at the University of Maryland, College Park, as I passed by the North Campus Diner on one sunny afternoon. Rabbi Ari Koretsky’s endearingly frenetic energy was enough to coax out a shy “yes” from passing students in response to his good-natured hollers of “Hey, are you Jewish?!” and “Hey, you want a free trip to Israel?!” I was one of these students. Before I knew it, I was taking off on a December 31st flight toward a trip that would change my life, my Jewish identity, and even my concept of the “New Year” for every year to come.
Birthright Israel, and the next inspired steps of the Maimonides Fellowship, the Meor Israel trip, the Maimonides 2 Fellowship, the Meor Vision trip, and increased exposure and learning with kiruv organizations revealed to me not so much the Jew that I could become, but the Jew I already was. For me, Jewish learning has not been a catharsis so much as an excavation — a sifting and scraping away of the illusionary expectations of how I “must” relate to myself, to others, and to the world, leaving only simple truths and my core self.
I found a person more suited to her callings. I found a person more capable of coping with her challenges. I found lenses that helped me see more of the culture around me for what it was, as well as what it wasn’t. I found within myself a profound and effortless well of emunah, faith, from which I’d never had the consciousness to draw. And Hashem showed me, time and time again, that each and every thing I thought I would lose as a consequence of my observance, had only been a synthetic version of the real thing that had always been waiting deep down for me to find.
I entered the workforce, a fresh graduate of UMD, as an educator and playwright. I freelanced and began to pass along this different kind of spark I now had for life. In my writing, I flexed a newly toned muscle of questioning, as well as a whole new appreciation for the specificity of words, the interpretive value of phrasing, and the capacity for depth in text that has the ability to move and change people.
In my teaching, I found a new sense of responsibility in the actions, words, and behaviors I model and encourage in our next generation — in the people who will inherit the world and who will love and understand only in the ways we collectively teach them. I found myself returning from another Israel trip and no longer wanting my turkey and cheese sandwiches from Jimmy John’s or my previously prominent role in Berlin family crab feasts. I found myself in a Jewish preschool, tearing up at the beauty and fluency of our heritage these young Jews were being handed at age two that I’d missed until age twenty.
I held my breath with terror as I pressed send on emails to employers declaring that I would no longer be able to work on Friday nights or Saturdays. I was approached to staff Birthright trips, and this time I replied to Rabbi Koretsky with the same “yes,” but none of the same shyness. My learning had revealed to me what I could do for others like me.
It hasn’t been easy. Nothing worth having or being is easy to obtain or to become. Family whispers were always just out of earshot. The fear of losing not only plans, but friends, was around every corner of change. Kindhearted and devoted relationships in which I was loved, nevertheless, had to be left behind. The hurt of the realizations that there wasn’t room in my relationships for the person I was becoming was tempered and soothed by gratitude for the safety and understanding of wonderful men who were part of my journey to the person I am today. Letting go of my most recent love made space for a new one that will last me a lifetime — my Shabbat observance.
I am growing to make new choices, and I love and respect the people around me by letting go of those for whom a lifestyle of growth is not authentic. Those who remain, and those I intend to gather from this point forward, serve as role models. And they are great ones, let me tell you.
In a pandemic that has rocked the external and internal worlds of every individual, I found solace, inspiration, and structure in shiurim and the communities which provide them. Riding a wave of change and surrealism, I learned to keep Shabbat in my childhood home, and my parents learned to appreciate it. With windows of opportunity and miracles of good fortune I can only say were lent by Hashem ahead of time for me to earn in kind, I secured a job doing what I love with benefits I can live on, an apartment I can pay for in a location I would never have believed, and a community of the nature I have dreamed of for a long, long time.
Every Shabbat, I am surrounded by Jewish young professionals passing time together, growing together, and helping one another through whatever life throws our way. I do not know what will come next, but every day I wake up with a constant and fervent appreciation for the source of everything and the blessings inherent in every step of this path created just for me.
Naomi Grant is collecting the stories of Baalei Teshuva around the world with the goal of compiling them into a published book. If you’re willing to share your story, please fill out this form.
