I like to tell this story about being born on the 18th of September. My parents and siblings were all born on single digit prime numbers--the 3rd, 5th, or 7th of their respective birth months. I was born on a double-digit composite, and thus a nonconformist from the very beginning. My relationship with religion can be described similarly. I grew up in a non-religious household. Though we celebrated Christmas and Easter (a fact which still baffles my fellow converts), my parents were confident atheists, and sometimes poked fun at religious rituals. I, on the other hand, always had a yearning to find God. Perhaps this was similar to my search for cultural heritage. My family seemed to be lacking in religion, so I was desperately curious as to what it was.
This curiosity was likely part, though certainly not all, of what led me to befriend Bethany. Bethany was a neighbor who lived across the street from the time we were five until she moved in high school. As confident that my parents were there was no God, Bethany's parents were confident there was one. They attended a Baptist church, homeschooled their kids, and prayed before every meal. Sometimes, I tagged along to church or Awana, and one summer, I even attended Vacation Bible School, where I accepted Jesus Christ as my Lord and Savior.
But as hard as I tried to pursue Christianity, I always knew Bethany had something I didn't. As we got older, I started to have questions. Like... Why did God give people one lifetime to accept Jesus and condemn them to an eternity in Hell if they decided to follow the wrong religion? Considering how religion is heavily affected by the circumstances of your birth, this seemed rather unfair.
And all the time I was wrestling with God, Bethany seemed to be growing in faith. By fourteen she was a very talented pianist. I remember watching her play at church and how she radiated with what I can only refer to as godliness. She seemed connected to the Divine in a way I desperately wished to be. But it was like being chained to a chair with the key only inches from my fingers. No matter how hard I stretched toward God, I just... couldn't quite reach Him.
It really shouldn't be a surprise we grew in different directions. I lived in a house with a painting of a naked woman on the living room wall. I called most of my parents' friends by their first names, and though my dad was still a long way from understanding what it meant to be transgender, we regularly dined at the home of a lesbian couple that my mom worked with. Bethany was over at my house enough that her parents obviously weren't that bothered by the naked lady. But she called her parents' friends (often the same people) "Mr. and Mrs." and when we found out Ian McKellen was gay, her reaction was "gross."
Though she hadn't moved far, Bethany and I saw less and less of each other in high school. Our years at the University of New Mexico did overlap, however. My senior year at UNM, I was a resident advisor in the dorms. Bethany went with me and a couple of my residents to adult night at the local children's museum. I think at least one of these residents was gay, and I have sometimes wondered whether she knew and how she felt if she did. But that was, more or less, the last time I saw her.
Now that I'm converting to Judaism, I find my thoughts turning to Bethany again. I wonder if she still plays the piano. If she ever played professionally. If she's married. If she homeschools her children. I wonder what she thinks of the parents' rights laws that threaten my job as a teacher if I should call a student by their preferred pronouns. I wonder what she would think of me now, a rainbow star of David around my neck, marching in the pride parade next to a fellow convert whose t-shirt reads "I'm homo" in Hebrew? Would she think I'm going to Hell? Or would my 8-year-old acceptance of Jesus still save me?
I wonder what would happen if we met again. Would we still have something to talk about? Or would we stare dumbfounded at one another, unsure of how to cross the chasm that now divides us. Or would Bethany see in me what I saw in her so long ago? Would she see that when I turned around, I found the key to Divine connection right behind me. Would she perhaps say, "it was not what I expected, but I am glad you found your way."
