the pieces of my life

And to wish everyone a Happy Hanukkah, I leave you with this, this, well, this!, sent to me courtesy of my sister. My only question (as my son reads from the Torah he made himself out of gift wrapping rolls) is: WHY DIDN’T I THINK OF THIS FIRST?

As a family, we’re very active in our local synagogue. The kids go to a Jewish preschool, I co-chair a regular kids’ activity there, I’m studying myself for my b’nai mitzvah (better known to you goyim as my bat mitzvah–most kids have their bat or bar mitzvah when they’re thirteen, but I never had one, so I’ll be doing it when I’m forty. Of course, for all you Jews out there who want to be technical, yes, I was a bat mitzvah whether or not I read from the Torah at thirteen, but you know what I’m talking about).

But one of the things I’ve made no secret of is that I struggle with the concept of God. I partake and enjoy Judaism from an historical, intellectual, and cultural basis, but have a difficult time with the actual religious aspects. Doodles and Pie get a healthy dose of God at school, and I try to temper it with my own beliefs. At their school, they never say, “God did this.” They say, “The Torah says that God did this.” It’s a subtle distinction but one I’m comfortable with, as it gives me a basis for discussion with Doodles (and eventually Pie). But yet, we still have these conversations like this:

Doodles: Why did God create sharks?
Me: Well, I know the Torah says God created sharks, but that’s not what I believe. I believe in evolution. Remember we talked about evolution? I don’t think God actually made sharks.
Doodles: Yes, he did. But why?

Then I had a conversation with another preschool mom the other day, during which she said to me, “So J. [her son] came home and said, ‘God is a man.’ My husband and I explained to him that God isn’t really a man or a woman, but more of a spirit, in everything, blah blah, but J. said, ‘No. God is a man. I know because Doodles told me he was.'”

So my budding theologist had me cornered in the car this week (all conversations seem to happen in the car where I have to tell him to yell so I can hear him clearly–damn big minivan!), and he hit me with this conversation:

Doodles: Is God made up?
Me: Well, different people believe different things. Some people think God is made up. And some people don’t. Rabbi L. and S. [the preschool director] believe God is real. Peter [my father] doesn’t. Peter thinks God is made up.
Doodles: So is he made up?
Me: Let me ask you, do you feel God in your heart?
Doodles: Yes.
Me: Then he’s not made up. He’s in your heart so he’s real.
Doodles: Does Pie feel God in her heart?
Me: I don’t know. Pie is a little young to express that kind of stuff. When she gets older, we can ask her. I know Daddy feels God in his heart.
Doodles: How do you know that?
Me: Daddy and I have talked about it before.
Doodles: Do you feel God in your heart?
Me: I feel something. Perhaps it’s God. [hedging] I can sometimes feel God in my heart.
Doodles: So Rabbi L. and S. feel God in their hearts?
Me: Yes.
Doodles: But Peter doesn’t feel God in his heart?
Me: Correct.
Doodles: So does Peter feel God in his neck?

For the record, Peter doesn’t feel him in his neck, his armpits, or the back of his knees. I didn’t ask what is in his pinky toe. Some things I just don’t need to know.