By now, a basic ingredient in the great melting pot of
flavors that comprise the Orthodox expanse of Jerusalem and
its surrounding environs, the baalei tshuvah of today
have realized all manners of integration into established
frum communities. Yet despite the very real
transformation from college student, stock market analyst or
high school teacher to avreich and palpable proponent
of Torah values and practices, the acute difficulties
experienced at each station of the journey from secularity to
full-fledged Jewish observance should never be underrated.
The initial decision to adopt a life of mitzvah
observance is often augmented by a powerful spiritual drive
which can move a person to aspire to great change within a
relatively short time-frame. However, good intentions aside,
the passage between the ideal and the outcome can be awash
with setbacks, disappointments, and quite often, real
emotional anguish. Moreover, while pulling out of the secular
world is itself a complicated and difficult process,
integration into the religious establishment is an entirely
separate concept.
The technical aspects alone present a major set of
challenges: Reading and understanding Hebrew, following a
service in shul and performance of basic
halachos which are child's play for the wider Orthodox
community, can prove a major difficulty for the mid-twenty
someone who has never before encountered such regular
requirements.
The journey of a baal tshuvah is often initiated by a
vision of family life only possible within a solid Jewish
framework. Within the breakdown of the family unit that has
become so prevalent in the secular world over the past
decades, it's no surprise that the stable home afforded only
to the family that lives within the framework of the Torah is
such an attractive option for the young person today.
During the interim phase between starting one's journey and
establishing for oneself a home and family, there is
generally plenty of opportunity to witness religious family
life and the inner workings of a traditional home. Yeshiva
and seminary students will usually find themselves as Shabbos
guests in myriad homes, affording them a first-hand
appreciation of the ins and outs of Torah-true family
life.
It's not uncommon for a young single person to develop a
close relationship with one or several families with which
s/he feels most comfortable, and to spend much time taking
mental notes in preparation for future married and domestic
life. From my own experience, I can say that it's truly a
beautiful feeling to be made part of a home and to experience
the type of family dynamics that are long extinct in the
secular household.
The welcomes are perpetually warm and the invitations to
return 'any time' are generally unending. Yet the issues that
baalei Teshuvoh face with regard to family life are
complex and individual. The spectrum of pain deriving from
dysfunction and abuse in secular families and communities
means that many among the newly observant require different
forms of intensive guidance/counseling before they are in a
healthy position to start the process of dating, marriage and
establishment of their own strong Torah-based homes.
The understanding that the relationship with one's own
parents and siblings can never emulate that of a family bound
by common spiritual goals and ideals can lead a young baal
tshuvah to feel a heightened sense of frustration and
isolation in these loving homes — that are not their
own.
Such issues can even stem from the simple fact that parents
who once gently prodded their children in the direction of
the front door and encouraged them to search the world, are
now dealing with a new lifestyle with which they are, if not
openly resentful, certainly uncomfortable. From the early
teenage years on, secular parents give their children
unlimited independence to explore both their immediate
surroundings and the world at large. The basic assumption is
that youthful curiosities will eventually be numbed by the
material realities demanded by society, and at some point in
early adulthood they will desire to settle down and establish
for themselves a 'normal' framework of existence.
In the non-Torah world, there is no such concept as learning
for the sake of learning. A person learns for the purpose of
acquiring the piece of paper which on a practical level
becomes the ticket to the highly sought-after middle position
in the accounting firm, and on a more idealistic level
— the key to unlimited fame and fortune. To sit in an
institution week after month after year for the purpose of
gaining nothing but a lot of very subjectively valuable
knowledge is a mind-boggling concept for someone without an
appreciation of Torah.
The expected reaction to a call from a son who had last been
seen some months earlier at the airport departure gate
sporting dreadlocks and jeans and who is now informing his
parents of his decision to prolong his stay in Israel to
study in Yeshiva is thus nothing less than total shock and
disbelief. By the time this same son is married and committed
to learning in kollel indefinitely, the parents have
hopefully become reconciled to the state of affairs. However,
the reality is that there is never any shortage of new
situations cropping up which continue to put strain on the
relationship.
The geographic relocation itself can at times be a source of
stress for the newly observant. Many baalei tshuvah
spend a number of years residing in dormitories where the
necessities of communal living combined with new financial
restrictions result in far inferior standards of comfort that
they experienced in one's previous reality.
As insignificant as a reduced level of material comfort may
seem when one considers all the gains of adopting a Torah-
based lifestyle, the change of type and location of one's
physical environment can certainly be traumatic. Gone is the
park that you used to stroll through in the early mornings.
Gone too are the relatives that used to be a short car-ride
away. Now, everywhere you go people are speaking a strange
language. In the bank, everyone always seems to be out to
lunch.
For a person who is in the earlier stages of the process of
learning how to live according to Orthodox Jewish standards,
living in a religious neighborhood can also present a
significant challenge. To be quite blunt, new baalei
tshuvah stand out. It's not even a question of standards
of modesty.
A young woman could be dressed in a manner of which she is
certain that even Soroh Imeinu would approve, and still feel
like a papaya in a basket full of apples. To have to be, all
of a sudden, conscious of where she is walking, who is behind
and in front, her pace, the volume at which she is chatting
to her friend — all these can take some getting used to
and for some, the period of adjustment is longer than it is
for others.
Learning in an environment far away from home may be most
conducive to growth in Yiddishkeit, but the separation from
family, friends and familiar environs can at times be
extremely painful. Due to the relatively rapid pace that
changes are made — both internal and external —
each trip home is accompanied by new challenges. Constant
developments in kashrus, modesty levels and Shabbos
observance which are all part of the natural growth process
of the newly observant, can be an enormous source of tension.
It's not uncommon to hear stories of parents who had done
their utmost to assist their baal tshuvah children
with purchasing new sets of dishes and modest wardrobes, only
to be informed on the next trip home that new standards are
now in place and replacement items need to be found.
The fact that a child is showing signs of blatant rejection
of the social and familial values that his parents have
instilled in him since childhood, can be, not surprisingly,
the cause of a range of negative emotions. I have even heard
of cases of Jewish families who either begrudgingly or
willingly accept the intermarriage of one child, whilst
totally rejecting the child who chooses to adopt a
frum lifestyle. The former has, all too sadly, become
much more socially acceptable in some circles.
Astonishing as this concept seems, from their point of view,
it can be "justified" by the simple fact that at least the
daughter with the non-Jewish husband will still be able to
attend family dinner parties and weekend getaways, while the
tsitsis-donning son will no longer even drink a bowl
of soup served to him by his mother.
Friendships which have spanned the course of decades often
need to be severed. A relationship which in the secular world
may have seemed harmless will inevitably begin to stifle a
baal tshuvah's growth, and therefore needs to be
ended. A person may know that he is ending it for all the
right reasons.
In the best-case scenario, it may undergo a phasing-out
period, due to 'lack of common interests.' However, when more
assertive action needs to be taken, the result can be a
myriad of unpleasant emotions from both parties.
New and better quality relationships are frequently formed in
a world in which Hashem provides for us exactly what we need,
but for the individual who is undergoing such profound change
on a daily basis, sometimes the yearning to be in the
presence of a long-term acquaintance who is no longer a part
of one's present reality can honestly feel overwhelming. One
of the games that people love to play at Shabbos tables is
called 'Jewish Geography.' It starts off with a seemingly
innocent question such as, "Where are you from?" Once this
information is established, the inquisitor then wants to know
who else you know from that area. "Oh, you're from Toronto.
Do you know the Reuben family?" No, sorry. "Do you know
Shimon Cohen?" No, sorry. And so on and so forth.
Very many baalei tshuvah don't know any religious
people at all from the places in which they grew up.
Moreover, they have no interest in divulging to an entire
table of people with whom they have been acquainted for
exactly twenty minutes the fact they have only been observant
for half a year or so. When the line of questioning
inevitably leads to, "So where does your father daven?
(He's never been to shul.) What does your mother do?
(She's a landscape gardener.) How many siblings do you have?
(I'm an only child), it can become so excruciatingly
embarrassing for some.
Often there is very little tact involved in the line of
questioning, until it reaches a point that this Shabbos guest
shrinks deeper and deeper into her seat and vows to never
again step foot on the entire block, let alone in this
particular home. On the topic of lack of common sense, last
summer a friend of mind related to me that she had been
approached by a woman at the Kosel and told that her sockless-
sandled feet were an abomination. This girl had stopped
wearing jeans only a few months previously, and at that
point, was teetering between prolonging her stay in Eretz
Yisroel for a few months to study in seminary, or leaving the
country a few days later to return to her office job back
home. This comment helped her to make her decision . . . I
have no idea what she's doing with herself these days . . .
.
By no stretch of the imagination am I trying to say that
every single baal tshuvah is a fragile crystal vase
teetering on the edge of a shelf. My peer group is comprised
of confident, happy, intelligent young people proud of the
hard work that they have accomplished and the difficult
trials that they have overcome in order to reach their latest
stage in life. However, there can be many moments when a
person feels so much uncertainty, and interaction with other
people is all that is holding him or her together.
Generally, if a girl is walking through an area in which she
doesn't appear to have been born, wearing something that may
evidently not have been purchased on Rechov Malchei Yisroel,
it's not because she is deliberately trying to be offensive.
It could be that she's in the earlier stages of her growth,
or she could just be having a setback, something which all
baalei tshuvah experience.
It could be that all she needs is a friendly smile on the
street, or a "Gut Shabbos" to muster the koach
to pass the remainder of that day's trials with flying
colors.
Just a thought, anyway.
[Ed. When was the last time you FFB readers hosted a baal/as
tshuvah for Shabbos? Without being asked? Just a thought,
anyway.]
