I’m taking a religion course called “Stories in Judaism,” so today I find myself in possession of my very own first Tanakh. I can’t describe the feeling I had when I opened the cover to a page that says THIS BIBLE BELONGS TO with a line in it to carry my name. Me! Mine! This is part of me now!
Ironically, earlier today I made a sardonic comment in class about how in capitalist society, identity is largely constructed through consumption. Well, here I am, guilty of my own charges.
I was telling L. the other day that I’m not exactly sure why Jewish stuff makes me so excited. His guess was that in a past life I was an Italian Jew, and that I managed to survive the treatment of my pork-eating oppressors. That’s a good enough explanation for me.