rabbijaffe

So I’ve been writing about Mormons for a bit now.

Someone asked me the question: So what do YOU believe in?

First of all, it’s a great question. But most certainly not something I can answer in just one post. So, I’ve dedicated my blog indefinitely to explaining the piece-by-piece process of how I got from where I was way back when to where I am now.

You see, I’m what’s called a baal teshuva. A baal teshuva is a Jewish person with a secular background, who at some point makes a very conscious decision to take on a fully Orthodox Jewish lifestyle.

My decision was very difficult, and took place over the course of several years. And it all began when I was fifteen years old.

You see, I really don’t remember anything before age fifteen. I don’t know why. Some say I suppressed my memories unconsciously. Others might say it’s intentional. It’s all really irrelevant. But what is relevant is certain life-altering events that happened to me during what was easily the most difficult year of my entire life.

My life at that stage was unfortunately severely lacking in meaning. I was a typical teenage boy who never contemplated the future, and only cared about the instant pleasures that surrounded me at all times.

So not surprisingly I did stupid things, like attend late night outdoor parties, with tons of alcohol and irresponsible company. And, of course, my parents had no idea where I was half the time.

I was young, lacking the necessary fears of life. I couldn’t have imagined what would happen next.

One evening at a party it looked like things were about to get broken up by an inevitable gigantic fight. I’ve never been much of a fighter, so I tried my hardest to walk away from everything that was happening.

But it turned out that simply wasn’t my destiny.

I turned down a side street to avoid any confrontation, and I was followed by about six guys with extremely bad intentions. These six people followed me, and beat me with whatever they could find. They did so mercilessly shouting horrible things, and when all the smoke cleared I was in the emergency room with a giant gash in my palm, wounds all over my back, and an excessively restless mind.

The funny thing is, there was no fight in the end. Just me. I’m the only person who got hurt in any way that night.

Why in the world would something like that happen to me!?

What did I do wrong!?

Why me!?

How could something so horrible happen to someone so young!?

These were thoughts I couldn’t shake. All I knew was something needed to be different in my life because of what happened. Something needed to be different forever. And from that point on I did everything to make sure that I would never again be so vulnerable.

It is clear to me that this was the first step in the process of me becoming me. And as strange as it may sound, I’m happy it happened.

I hope those who hurt me, whoever they might be, suffer for what they’ve done. Yet I remain thankful for all the good that has come from it.

Years later I remember sitting in Jerusalem staring up at the Western Wall. A thought occurred to me that still sends chills up my spine.

There’s a reason I was the only one hurt that day. There’s a reason I was followed.

Everything, every last detail of that day happened for the sole purpose of my feeling the terror and suffering I experienced.

God was sending me a message.

I needed to be a different person than I was.

I thank God every single day that I had the strength to hear the message loud and clear, whether or not I knew it at the time.

This moment was the beginning of my life. It was the beginning of how I became who I am.  

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