Essay PreviewMore ↓
One day in grade five, I decided to find myself. Most people are not "lost" when they are eleven years old, but in my own naïve, inexperienced world, I needed a change. My teacher was the indirect cause of this awakening. She was Jewish and opened our closed WASP-y minds to a whole new world of Judaism. We explored the Jewish holidays, learned about the Holocaust, and watched Fiddler on the Roof. This brief yet fascinating view into the world of another religion captured my attention and compelled me to investigate further. I hungrily searched for books on Judaism and bombarded my teacher and my two classmates who were half-Jewish with questions. I decided, after careful (or so I thought) deliberations, that I wanted to convert to Judaism. I did not (and still do not) know why Judaism intrigued me so. Perhaps their high degree of suffering as a people seemed romantic to me. On the other hand, maybe it had to do with the fact that my religion (as my more Roman friends are quick to point out) does not seem to have any clear and decisive beliefs. It could have been the fact that Jews do not believe that Jesus is the Son of God and are still waiting for the Messiah to appear, which seemed to be a good reason as to why there was so much wrong with the world. Whatever it was, it drew me in and launched me into a world of discovery and discouragement.
One Day, after my teacher had taken us to Mount Allison to see Fiddler On The Roof, I sat at the supper table and calmly announced my intention to covert to Judaism. I caught the glance that passed between my parents and was perceptive enough to understand what it meant. "Yeah, right." But my parents are supportive and told me that it was my decision and that they had never forced any particular beliefs onto us and they were not going to start now. So I marched to my room and got out the dictionary. Kosher (ko’shc r), adj. 1. Judaism 2. Fit or allowed to be eaten or used, according to the dietary or ceremonial laws.
The next night I went grocery shopping with my father and was excited to see the jar of kosher pickles sitting on the shelf. I do not like pickles and I did not even know why they were kosher, but how could I not take advantage of a wonderful opportunity to prove to my parents that I was serious about converting.
How to Cite this Page
"Personal Narrative- Converting to Judaism." 123HelpMe.com. 15 Oct 2019
Need Writing Help?
Get feedback on grammar, clarity, concision and logic instantly.Check your paper »
- Two Months - Personal Narrative The day my sister left for England, something inside of me woke up. It felt like the desert sand being surprised by cool wet rain, my amazement and surprise was just the same. The reality that this was really happening, we really were being separated, all became too much for me. As close as two siblings could be, it is often difficult to distinguish between Georgie and I. One wonders, where does Georgie start, and where do I begin. Who developed the sarcastic wit, and who picked it up as the years went by.... [tags: Personal Narrative Descriptive]
959 words (2.7 pages)
- Personal Narative- Tough Girl She went to the land of Hollywood with a diamond wedding necklace hanging loosely from her neck like a noose before it gives its snapping goodbye. She went to the land of dreams with pride coloring her shadow; a haughty swing of her thick plait; and why not. Her name was Serina –she was named after a dream. Why not. I thought, though I cried the night before because she got the chance bestowed to her curvy hips, her white Colgate smile, her crystal blue eyes. And what about me.... [tags: Personal Narrative Writing]
1367 words (3.9 pages)
- Personal Narrative- Bicycle Crash I used to bike often with my friend Juan in my hometown of Aguascalientes, Mexico. In the narrow streets, a heavy flow of traffic make biking treacherous. Certain streets have traffic signs saying, "CEDA EL PASO A UN VEHICULO" which means "Let one vehicle go through at a time." I biked on the right side of the street and my friend Juan biked on the left side. On our trip to buy tamales Juan and I were supposed to cross an intersection with a "CEDA EL PASO A UN VEHICULO" sign.... [tags: Personal Narrative]
565 words (1.6 pages)
- Personal Narrative- Christian Apologetics Two weeks of this past summer rank high as some of the most rewarding times of my life. Next to my salvation, the experience has become an important turning point of my youth. This experience changed my worldview into a biblical perspective, and strengthened my faith in the Lord. For the first time, I was on my own, flying cross-country to spend two weeks in Colorado, not for a vacation I might add. I was to attend a Christian apologetics course sponsored by Summit Ministries.... [tags: Personal Narrative]
340 words (1 pages)
- Personal Narrative- Playground Memory Looking back on a childhood filled with events and memories, I find it rather difficult to pick on that leaves me with the fabled “warm and fuzzy feelings.” As the daughter of an Air Force Major, I had the pleasure of traveling across America in many moving trips. I have visited the monstrous trees of the Sequoia National Forest, stood on the edge of the Grande Canyon and have jumped on the beds at Caesar’s Palace in Lake Tahoe. However, I have discovered that when reflecting on my childhood, it is not the trips that come to mind, instead there are details from everyday doings; a deck of cards, a silver bank or an ice cream flavor.... [tags: Personal Narrative]
398 words (1.1 pages)
- Personal Narrative- Christmas Cookies Although I have grown up to be entirely inept at the art of cooking, as to make even the most wretched chef ridicule my sad baking attempts, my childhood would have indicated otherwise; I was always on the countertop next to my mother’s cooking bowl, adding and mixing ingredients that would doubtlessly create a delicious food. When I was younger, cooking came intrinsically with the holiday season, which made that time of year the prime occasion for me to unite with ounces and ounces of satin dark chocolate, various other messy and gooey ingredients, numerous cooking utensils, and the assistance of my mother to cook what would soon be an edible masterpie... [tags: Personal Narrative]
564 words (1.6 pages)
- Personal Narrative- Eventful Thanksgiving The crisp, cool, and cinnamon air filled the morning of Thanksgiving in 1987. Although I was only two years and eleven months old, I remember the scratchy, fuzzy, purple- footed pajamas that I was wearing that morning. After I woke up, I "helped" my mom make her famous orange- cranberry relish, got dressed in my cream sweater dotted with cherries and my navy pleated skirt, topped off with my favorite cream fuzz- warn tights, and before I knew it we were out the door to my grandmother's house.... [tags: Personal Narrative]
503 words (1.4 pages)
- Personal Narrative- Varsity Volleyball I first started playing volleyball at a very young age. I was in the seventh grade when my volleyball career started. My sister started playing in the seventh grade and I just wanted to follow her footsteps. My seventh grade year was ok because I had just started out and really didn’t know the game. There was A team and a B team, where A team was better than the B team. I tried my best to be on the A-team, but guess where I ended up, on the B team. No matter what team I was on I never gave up.... [tags: Personal Narrative]
512 words (1.5 pages)
- Personal Narrative- Mountain Hike In hiking, as in life, there are choices between success and pain, pride and safety; this is the story of one such choice. Last summer I participated in the Rayado program at Philmont Scout Ranch. The eighth day of the trek was my crew’s greatest challenge: Super Black Death, a hike of seven peaks in one day. By 4 PM we had conquered most of the peaks. As we were climbing what we thought was our sixth peak, Big Red, a storm struck. It was a cold driving rain that froze us as we struggled up the mountain.... [tags: Personal Narrative]
503 words (1.4 pages)
- Personal Narrative- Lost Wallet A wallet, or purse for some, is a precious item in which most people carry things more essential than money towards everyday life. If some people were to lose that portable safe, they may be offset for the rest of that day. The person without that wallet could be cranky or depressed for a while. Maybe something of great sentimental value was in that wallet. This person could stay hold these feelings for a long time, until they find their belongings by which case they are filled with joy.... [tags: Personal Narrative]
703 words (2 pages)
- Personal Narrative – Complications of Becoming a Woman
- Personal Narrative- First Love and Missed Opportunities
- Personal Narrative – Singing Poorly
- Personal Narrative- The Admirable Villain
- Exploring the Hindu Religion
- The Use of Narratives to Express the Religious Beliefs of People in Western Religions
The following Sunday presented some problems. How could I attend a church that I now scorned for its weak and erroneous beliefs? However, my mother was adamant that until I had officially converted to Judaism, I had to put up with the common Christian folk. I stood through the customary singing of "Holy, holy, holy" with a feeling of bewilderment. "God in three persons, blessed Trinity", twittered the choir. I unknowingly asked myself the question that has torn nations and families apart for a millennium. Are there three persons, the Father, Son and Holy Ghost, or just one, who goes by the unpronounceable name of YWHW? My eleven-year-old mind could not grasp the enormity of this age-old dilemma. I just knew that if I was going to be Jewish I would have to cast aside the beliefs that had been gently pounded into my head ever since I could first garble out the words to the Lord’s Prayer. I deliberately left out that part of the hymn.
Nevertheless, I still did not feel Jewish. My nose was not the right shape, I knew no Yiddish, and I did not even know what circumcision was! I had a hard time associating myself with the people who were taken from their homes and families and were forced to slowly waste away in Auschwitz. I could never relate to the people that were persecuted by the Spanish Inquisition. The menorah and the skullcap meant nothing to me - they were only symbols of a religion that reached farther back and touched more people through the course of history than mine did. I grew discouraged with my attempts to shed myself of my white Anglo-Saxon background. If I was anything, it was Celtic. If I believed anything, it was that Jesus died on the cross for our sins. I realized, at the tender age of eleven, that your heritage and your race could not be easily changed. I could not become Jewish any more than I could become black or Austrian. Being Jewish is more than taking up their customs and beliefs - it something that you are born with. I decided that it would be more worthwhile and rewarding to discover more about my own heritage. I admire the Jewish religion and am still greatly intrigued by it but I learned to admire my own religion and heritage too. I am now content to be whom I was born as, no matter how unworldly and boring I thought it was. My quest, which started in grade five, brought me full circle. In trying to find myself by adopting a new religion, I found out who I really was.