This I Believe Draft
I believe in the power of community, even if religion can be confusing. Religious identity has always been something that I wondered about. Not just mine, but those around me who seemed so sure of their faith. I can’t say that I believe in the all the stories in the Torah that were put in front of me, but the power of community and the power of tradition are strong. I remember growing up, I would go to my cousin’s house for Passover, Shabbat, and Sukkot. Going over on Passover we would read the story of Moses leading his people out of Egypt, a story, I was told, was of my ancestors. Even if these distant tales confused me, I can remember feeling more connected to my heritage. Over these holiday visits I can remember finding the Afikomen with my cousins, the sweet molasses like sauce on the kosher meatballs that I couldn’t get enough of. The Sukkah with gaps to let in the night sky. Stars always seemed to stare down on us as we celebrated a tradition that my family had for generations. Without fully comprehending the history, or even the tales I felt closer to the people who made me.
I carried this confusion with me through Hebrew school. I can’t say I always wanted to go, I mean who wants to wake up on the weekends? But I look back on it and I am glad I went. There I was able to meet more kids who had the same heritage as me, I was able to learn the history, and best of all, I got free pretzels. I can remember zoning out during ceremonies and staring at the stained-glass windows with depictions of holy events. Sunlight bled through them as if highlighting their importance, and yet it didn’t feel real. This all became clearer to me while I prepared for my Bar Mitzvah. Like everyone else at my synagogue I had to do a Bar Mitzvah Project, some project that would help better the community. One morning I saw a magazine article that warned of the diminishing bee population, and I knew that I wanted to help. With the help of a beekeeper named Don Shump we were able to establish a set of hives on the roof of the synagogue. The plan was to sell the honey to the community for the High Holidays, around the Jewish New Year.
We spent some days on the roof in the beating sun, dripping sweat and lugging the liquid gold onto boxes to take below. This hard work seemed important to me, but I truly realized its impact once I saw the community it affected. After a service during the High Holidays, we began to leave the synagogue and people kept coming up to me and my family. They would say how much they loved the honey and how much it meant to them, and I realized that many of these people were older, those who came to services more than any other. Something struck me then that I will never forget: religion offers more than just faith and belief in God; it offers a community, and there is power in a community. Even if I am still questioning my beliefs, I will never question the power of community and the traditions it passes along. My heritage is taught through that community, even if I don’t know my ancestors, I know what they believed. With every dinner under the stars, every bottle of honey, I can feel those before me, and that is the true power of religion to me. This I believe.