A little over five months ago, I blogged about my decision to read the Tanakh in one year…and then promptly didn’t blog about it again because I didn’t want to admit that I’d fallen off the wagon much more quickly than I climbed onto it. I had to choose between improving my Hebrew so I could learn to chant Torah and reading Tanakh… because as much as I hate to admit it, Shabbat is the only day a week that I can shut off the world and dedicate myself to prayer, reflection, and relaxation.
But I am telling you now because somewhere between the World of Warcraft marathons and the sleeping in and the floodplains of depression, I ended up doing neither one. I withdrew from the face of God with the same shame with which I withdrew from the world in the darkest days of winter, where the cold that chilled me to my bones had nothing to do with the temperature outside… and everything to do with the fear of rising anti-Semitism around the world and the way it fueled the fire of self-hatred that I thought I had finally extinguished.
It turns out that fire only needs the slightest spark to rise again, and the World is always happy to provide you with sparks.