350 words, limit is 500. The prompt is very open-ended, basically on any topic. I'm wondering if I should expand on something or if it's fine the way it is. Thanks so much!
"Jesus loves me!" As I declared the simple fact we had learned in preschool that day, my parents shared a worried look. Although they attempted to hold a reserved disposition, their contorted faces divulged their surprise. My preschool self was puzzled for a minute, then brushed the manner aside, moving on to the more important happenings of toys and cheese crackers.
I attended both a Christian preschool and a Christian grade school. I grew up going to chapel every week, singing hymnals, and reciting prayers. There is nothing wrong with any of these activities, per say. What was wrong was something about me: I am Jewish.
From birth to age seven I was Christian. From seven on, when my parents enrolled me in Temple Emanu-El, I became Jewish. A relatively easy switch, just like that. Yes, the strange language, the outlandish looking rabbi with ringlets any girl would be jealous of, and the other kids who played a strange indoor ball game I later learned to be Ga-ga astounded me at first. However, I took Judaism on by its heels, incorporating its distinct culture into my identity.
The idea that I could swap religions that easily continues to amaze me. If my parents had not told me I was Jewish, would I continue to believe I was Christian? Probably so. The influence of others' ideals on a person is astonishing, especially at a young age when the mind is still developing. In a broader sense, I realized that the root of how people think and act and even how propaganda succeeds is that people sometimes give little thought to forming unbiased personal opinions, believing what others tell them to be true.
So am I Jewish just because my parents told me I was? Not at all. I am not known as the 'Jew Girl' at my high school for nothing. In fact, being Jewish in Hawaii opens up the opportunity for me to teach my friends about my heritage and what I believe. Their enthusiasm and interest only propels the fervor I hold for my fascinating, albeit misguided, background.
"Jesus loves me!" As I declared the simple fact we had learned in preschool that day, my parents shared a worried look. Although they attempted to hold a reserved disposition, their contorted faces divulged their surprise. My preschool self was puzzled for a minute, then brushed the manner aside, moving on to the more important happenings of toys and cheese crackers.
I attended both a Christian preschool and a Christian grade school. I grew up going to chapel every week, singing hymnals, and reciting prayers. There is nothing wrong with any of these activities, per say. What was wrong was something about me: I am Jewish.
From birth to age seven I was Christian. From seven on, when my parents enrolled me in Temple Emanu-El, I became Jewish. A relatively easy switch, just like that. Yes, the strange language, the outlandish looking rabbi with ringlets any girl would be jealous of, and the other kids who played a strange indoor ball game I later learned to be Ga-ga astounded me at first. However, I took Judaism on by its heels, incorporating its distinct culture into my identity.
The idea that I could swap religions that easily continues to amaze me. If my parents had not told me I was Jewish, would I continue to believe I was Christian? Probably so. The influence of others' ideals on a person is astonishing, especially at a young age when the mind is still developing. In a broader sense, I realized that the root of how people think and act and even how propaganda succeeds is that people sometimes give little thought to forming unbiased personal opinions, believing what others tell them to be true.
So am I Jewish just because my parents told me I was? Not at all. I am not known as the 'Jew Girl' at my high school for nothing. In fact, being Jewish in Hawaii opens up the opportunity for me to teach my friends about my heritage and what I believe. Their enthusiasm and interest only propels the fervor I hold for my fascinating, albeit misguided, background.