On Breaking into Pegisha

When he asked me “what are you doing here?”
I wasn’t sure what to tell him
And so we argued

And the Judaism I spoke of was like a foreign object to him
I am preaching to the preacher
Trying to remind him why preaching even started in the first place
Trying to remind him why we were put on this planet

We are not infallible by our upbringing
I was raised in this community,
And that doesn’t mean I am left with any less questions
Or struggles, or concerns, or wars with my Creator
I am no different than the preacher, with sins of his own

Call me a radical Tanyaist,
But as far as I remember this God made all of us in his image
Literal pieces of Him, all of us
Those who serve, those who stray, those who question, those who find their own path

So, my friend
My preacher
My literal piece of God
What is your question?

Do I not belong among the thrall of my people?
Dancing beside them, laughing with them, learning and inquiring from them?
Why can’t you just smile with me and dance beside me?
Why can’t you see the best in me?
Whatever happened to Levi Yitzchak of Barditchev?

What does it say
That the youth of our community
Grovel and beg for the chance to be a part of this magic?
Call and fight and argue and negotiate
Just to walk alongside our brothers and sisters?

Some cynical part of you argued
“They’re only here to engage in the shallowest of their desires”
I’ve never been much for cynics

Let’s call it true for argument’s sake
Wouldn’t you rather those looking for love
Look for love among our people?
Among the brightest, the most excited, the most joyous souls of our community?
These students are our greatest teachers
Just look at the glow in their eyes
At the sound of Torah
A glow I rarely see in this town anymore
And God do I miss it

The glow in them imbues a glow in me
Is that not enough?

Perhaps I am a radical Tanyaist
In that I do not measure
success in notions of religious practice
I measure success in this glow
In the magic of wanting it, and struggling with it, and wanting it again

I have never been a preacher to make you practice further
I am here to learn from you, to find out what you want,
To clean the dust from the magic you have to offer
And let you see it

We were not made to be sheep
We were not made to all look the same and act the same and forever wear the same uniforms
The Rebbe taught me that with his fedora
That changemaker, trailblazer, that bright light of him

We were each given separate consciousnesses
Different formats, different ways of approach
My soul came through this body to find its own way to Him
To make this world a better place
And not by becoming
Some carbon copy of everybody else
He wanted me, the me He made

I am no cynic
I think this seventh generation
Is thirsty for truth and light and love and magic
Is thirsty to ask the silly questions
To dance beside each other, for the fun of it!
To be heard and desired and granted such sustenance
Won’t you let us quench this thirst?