The Batman Complex: aka The Bad Jew Origin Story

When last we met, my fellow Bad Jews, the summer had just begun. And so had my freak-out. Ok, fine. It wasn't like a long, drawn-out, bender of a freak-out that lasted throughout the summer. But it was a freak-out, nonetheless. And it began with a request from some dear friends: Would I open the ark at their daughter's Bat Mitzvah?

Uhhh...say what, now?

Growing up as a member of a Conservative, non-egalitarian synagogue in New Jersey I was not taught to read Torah. I was not allowed to wear a tallis and I was certainly not allowed to be called to the Torah. And now, a million years later (ok, fine - more like 23 years later), I'm being asked to do this truly incredible honor for friends whom I love. My gut reaction? Terror. Fear. FREAK. OUT. And to whom of all people did I run with this dilemma? My friend, The Rabbi.

After some much-needed therapeutic word vomiting and coaching, I acknowledged that my fear of All Things Torah comes from a very deep place in my psyche. I realized my feelings of unease were coming from a place with a clubhouse door wrapped in yellow caution tape stamped with the words, "No Girls Allowed." I felt separate and my mind immediately drifted to these wise words from Pirkei Avot: "Do not separate yourself from the community..."(2:4). Usually, this opening line leads to a few more pearls from Rabbi Hillel that I use when teaching about the Jewish obligation to truly belong to one's community. Yet this time these same words took an entirely different twist. What if it was not YOU who separated yourself from the community, but instead someone else took care of that for you? Someone decided, before you ever had the capacity or maturity to decide for yourself, that you were separate and not equal. And before you even recognized there was a choice for you to make, you became fragmented. And what if this fragmentation caused you to live a life that was not really true for you? Or maybe part of it was true but part of it was a mask. And what if it lead you to a life of fighting crime? And wearing a latex costume with lots of gadgets? Uh, wait a minute. That's Batman, not the Bad Jew. Or is it?

My newfound understanding that this well-intentioned spiritual leader was just doing his job by living and teaching according to the the Jewish tradition which he had been taught helped shed light on my anger, resentment, and fear. It also gave me tremendous insight into why Torah has been my Archnemisis since before I can even remember: Because it never really belonged to me. It has been something outside of my reach; something only accessible to me through others and never directly. And that, my friends, is my origin story.

Like Bruce Wayne, who felt compelled to spend his life eradicating bad guys (and has a much more tragic origin story), I feel compelled to spend my life eradicating social injustices that litter our community. This has become my all-access pass to Jewish practice.

This is My Torah.

But unlike Bruce Wayne, who hides behind the facade of his playboy, rich kid lifestyle, all the while knowing his true self is the "Caped Crusader," I'm taking off the mask. My alter-ego and my present self have merged. They are not fragmented and I no longer hide who I really am. For too long I hid behind the mask of a Good Jew. A Good Jew who goes to shul, keeps kosher, and knows how daven with the best of 'em. But really, I'm not any of those things. No matter how many times I think about learning to read Torah or checking out the latest independent minyan, it comes down to this: I don't want to. There. I said it. Maybe it's because I'm not ready to change. Maybe I don't believe that I can. Maybe the mechitza that separates me from traditional Jewish practice is made of this really powerful, invisible force field like the material used to make Wonder Woman's Invisible Plane. This Bad Jew is a world-saving, rabbi-loving, Jewish-educating, bacon-eating lady. And it's really not about having my pork shoulder and eating it, too. It's about accepting the story that is mine. It's about finding My Torah.

Are you ready, my fellow Bad Jews? It's time to settle up and ask yourself this: What's your origin story and, more importantly, what's Your Torah?