Be A Maverick

Recently, I was called a maverick by a friend of mine. Why? Because years ago I broke away from the mold. This friend of mine was explaining to me why I felt sidelined by my siblings, and why it seemed like they gang up on me. The fact is, I took a different course than the rest of my family. I took a different course than my Jewish-American mainstream society, too, where expectations were to go to college, get a career, marry and grow a family IN AMERICA. To stay an American Jew, a Conservative Jew.

And, to have American Jew-ish Dreams, and American Jew-ish Goals, and American Jew-ish Hobbies, raise American Jew-ish Children, and suffer American Jew-ish Concerns & Problems.

But I escaped that. I moved to Israel at 21, and became Observant, or in American Language – Orthodox.

In the society of my family and friends, this was FOREIGN and FROWNED upon. But I didn’t let it stop me. It’s not that I didn’t care…I did. It was hard to go against the grain, to go against my parents and my siblings and my friends. I admit that. It was hard, uncomfortable, lonely. But I didn’t want to live a life prescribed by others. I had no problem of others “telling me what to do” it wasn’t that. It was the lifestyle and goals that I found lackluster and meaningless, in the world in which I had lived. I didn’t want that. I knew there was more elsewhere. I had gotten a taste.

Earlier in my life, I had also broken with the “norm.” I knew how it felt to be alone.

I always hated following the crowd, especially when the crowd is wrong. And it often is.

When I was in my second year of high school, a bunch of new students from the local Catholic school joined our school. We were infused with these teenagers who had a new different ethos than mine and the one my friends shared.

My friends and I formed a small group. We enjoyed music and participated in band. We talked about clothes, rock bands, school, our teachers, and general things in popular culture.

All-of-a-sudden my friends whom I had known for years, wanted to go to parties, to drink and smoke, to run after older boys. I wasn’t interested. Perhaps I just wasn’t ready.

But my friends didn’t care how I felt, and they ditched me, and started hanging around with these new kids.

I had a choice, of course. We always have a choice.

Do I join them and follow along with this new crowd, or strike out on my own, find new friends, and start over?

It would have been easy to follow along. Other kids did it, I saw.

But I knew that it wouldn’t feel right. I wouldn’t be comfortable. I would be pretending to be something and someone that I wasn’t. I didn’t want to be pushed into behaviors that were inauthentic. I couldn’t imagine pretending to care about things that weren’t important to me.

So I made my decision and set out to find new friends.

I remember that first day in the lunchroom, the first time not having a place to sit. Not having a group of friends saving me a seat. Standing there thinking what to do?

I had to be brave. I had to pretend I was ok being alone. So that’s what I did. I sat outside on a bench, alone. Feet up on a chair, looking as confident as I could muster. I faked it, of course.

Eventually people approached me…people I knew more or less, even from other grades. And I made new friends. These were people I had always seen but had never invested in. They became my friends.

So fast-forward a few years to my 20s, when I decided to lead a religious life. I had already built up some armor. I knew I would suffer loneliness and estrangement at first. And when we moved to Israel and people would ask “isn’t it hard to be far away from your family” I could honestly say “no, it’s not that hard.” Because being different, near everything familiar, is harder.

But hard things make us strong.

When considering Aliyah, one of the difficult issues is leaving everyone you know.

Those who have always been enveloped in a loving and supportive environment with family and friends will find it especially difficult to leave that environment.

My advice for those people?

Don’t think of yourselves.

Think of the next generation. Think of the gift and advantages you will be giving your children. It may be hard for you, and true, it may also be hard for them.

But often, hard things make us strong.