Our Family Tree

School is progressing, and I have to say, I couldn't be happier with my learning. As we get deeper into the sefer (book) Misillas Yesharim (or Path of the Just, written by Rav Luzzatto) I find myself being energized by the school's ongoing theme of (intentional or not) character growth.

All the Judaic classes deal with hashkafa (Jewish points of view), halacha (Jewish law), mussar (things we know but often overlook), and seferim (judaic books) which ALL are about how to build yourself as an individual. Not so bad with the upcoming New Year, right? But, during the first class of Derech Hashem (The Way of Gd) , the teacher, who is fantastic, introduced the author and the background of the book. This is the class that sparked my intrigue this entire week.

Being Jewish is a nice title or identity, but the root of it is ancestral that traced back to Adam and Chava (Eve). If we follow the line, we get to Noach (and his flood) ten generations later. Ten after that, Avraham (Abraham) comes into the picture. Then his son, Yitzhok (Isaac), and grandson, Yaakov (Jacob). Yaakov and his twelve sons [Yosef (Joseph) and his multi-coloured coat anyone?] entered the land of Mizrayim (Eqypt). After a few hundred years of slavery we come to Moshe (Moses) and his siblings, Aaron and Miriam. Moshe and approximately three million of us accepted the Torah from Gd at the mass revelation on Mt. Sinai. Moshe's deciple, Yeheshua (Joshua), led us in battle where we became reestablished in the land of Israel and set up the monarchy, leading to King David. Post King David, we had the prophets and then we entered the Rabbinic era, in which we find ourselves today. So why is this short history lesson relevant?

As the Rabbi finished his introduction to Derech Hashem and the time period that it was written in (1700's, if you were curious), he proceeded to pull out a rolled up poser. Hmm, I thought curiously to myself. Being invested in my Judaic studies has spilled over to my artwork. During class, I often find my notes taking forms of abstract sketches summarizing the lesson. So, seeing this rolled up poster had me wondering what beautiful work was about to be displayed. And that's when my heart flooded with pure... glorious.... jealousy.

It was such a deep-seated jealousy that took hold of my heart and crushed it. Holding back tears that were welling up in the corner of my eyes, I saw the most stunning picture I have ever seen. The paper was old and crumbled at the corners. Obviously a photocopy of the original piece of work. And the Rabbi proceeded to explain what, exactly, he was holding.

This paper was, in fact, a smaller replica of a large chalk-board sized family tree. This family tree was of my Rabbi's. The last name on it was his great-grand father. And who was the first name? Adam. After Adam, the names got unbearably small- leaving room for each mother and child to be written in until my Rabbi's great-grandfather finished the page. The exquisite way it was made! The fantastic artistry it took! And the most heartbreaking thing of all? The unbroken line of father and mother to child. Each line of names winding down the page had our greatest prophets and talmudic sages. The tree extended to the man holding up that very same piece of paper- my teacher. And I had to hold back tears of a green heart.

My Rabbi explained how pre-World War II, his family had collected all the records of his ancestry and commissioned a very talented artist to make it, in which that artist did with immaculate precision. Names that appeared larger, were notable Jewish figures, and the lines falling down the page accounted for generations of father's teaching their son's Torah, and mother's teaching their daughter's halacha. Something, my family, decided to stop about four generations ago.

As the Rabbi spoke on about the unbroken chain- I couldn't help uncomfortably seething and writhing in my chair with a unique anguish I had never before experienced. As a proud Baalas Teshuvah (returnee to observant religion) I have never had any regrets about my decision to become religious. I was proud for being a rebel to my society- breaking every social norm and deconstructing every philosophical farce in order to find truth and Torah and the way of my nation. I was putting myself through uncomfortable situations to do what I thought was right- and I am so proud of myself for having the wearwithall to continue on my quest for emes. But it never dawned on me that my fight may have been avoided. Of course I sometimes wish I grew up religious, but I never once wished it as a plausible existence. It is just one of those things that you can't change and have to appreciate for what it was. But here, my Rabbi stood in front of me for being proud of NOT having to fight his way back to Torah. Instead, he was showing us that he got the most beautiful gift, Torah, from his parents. His parents gave him the most beautiful gift in the world, like their parents gave to them. This happened a thousand times, or more, back to when we stood at Mount Sinai and received it from our Father, the creator, Hashem.

I sat in class looking at this map of heritage. And it wasn't the beautiful art that made me jealous. It wasn't the fact that I hadn't created the piece of art or was a name within it. What tore me up was that the common factor of passing Torah from father to son was absent in my family tree. To see proof that Adam and Chava actually existed via their children and their children's children was nice. But to realize that this- this beautiful gift... my parents decided not to give me. I had to go to my distant cousins and learn what their parents taught them. It made me want to cry as I sat in class full of Beis Yaakov girls who got it from their ima's and abba's, tatti's and mommy's.

But as the expression goes, "The apple doesn't fall [too] far from the tree." And only three or four generations after Torah was lost in my family, my older brother uncovered it and dusted it off. And a little while later, I found it too. Maybe we didn't get the Torah directly from our parents... but they instilled in us a love for Judaism that helped lead us back. And here is where I make the corny segway back into my Derech Hashem class: In my Derech Hashem class I found myself literally looking at the Tree of Life.

With this family tree in front of me I thought about Torah, family, and trees. Not to mention apples and honey (after all the Jewish New Year, Rosh HaShana, is this Monday). And I thought about all the character traits I'm working on to enhance myself for the upcoming year. And I thought about the person I'm becoming and where I came from. And as I'm thinking about these things, my teacher announced that class was ending but added, "This is your family tree, too. We are all connected and every girl who asks me to find out about their ancestry has a family member on this page, even some just a few generations ago. So after Rosh HaShana you can find out. " And that's when my heart lightened up and I realized this is going to be a very good year.