Leaving the Fold

On this rainy Monday in Israel, let’s play a cozy game of Would You…?

 

Today’s question: Would you “divorce” Judaism if you could?

 

Here’s how to play:

 

Let’s say there was a method, sanctioned and recognized by Jewish law, to leave Judaism. Just like there exists a conversion process to join the fold, there would be an un-conversion process to leave the fold. And let’s say it would be have similar strict guidelines: First, the rabbis would have to turn you away three times. And you’d have to prove you were serious about it, and maybe there would be some classes you’d have to take. You would also have to promise not to keep mitzvot anymore (aside from the seven Noahide laws, the basic set of don’t-kill-don’t-steal laws applicable to all mankind). You would promise not to observe Shabbat or holidays or learn Torah. No more kashrut or preparing for Passover or High Holiday services.

 

And then the rabbis would officially declare you to be a “non-Jew.” You’re free.

 

Would you do it?

 

We’ve been asking this question to our Shabbat guests the past few weeks (Try it! It’s a great icebreaker!) and the answers have run the gamut from “I would do it in a minute,” to “No way,” to “Maybe I would have said yes when I was younger, but now I wouldn’t give it up.”

 

As for me, though un-conversion seems tempting, I probably wouldn’t be able to go through with it. Yes, perhaps in the weeks before Passover it would be nice to sit and drink coffee instead of vacuuming out my kids’ underwear drawers. But in the end, the reward is worth it: Sitting down on Seder night in a clean house, reading the ancient words of the Haggadah with my children, and of course, acting out the 10 plagues (a long-standing family tradition.)

 

I think about a life without the ritual that Judaism provides—without Shabbat meals, without Friday evening candle lighting, without a Sukkah—and it seems sad and empty to me. Judaism, for me, is more than the sum of its 613 parts. I find meaning, comfort and joy in having a Jewish identity, a Jewish history and a Jewish community. Judaism ties me to something bigger and more meaningful than my own existence. And I can’t imagine living without that.

 

So that’s my answer. What’s yours?