It was about bechira, naturally.
I was in third grade. I asked the usual question and got called an apikorus because I said it didn’t make sense.
In fourth grade it was about nevuah in fifth grade, har sinai, in sixth, yetzer hara, and in seventh I got tired so I stopped asking with my voice.
Instead, I would roll my eyes or grunt in utter annoyance and get the same comments about my obviously heretic ways.
I was mocking the very core of our religion. I was juvenile in my beliefs. I was looking for a way out. I had a lack of faith.
Ah, but they didn’t know wherein lay the real issue.
Call me what you will, I would think in that defiant inner voice of mine. You know nothing of my beliefs. My beliefs were formed when you refused to answer. My distrust became apparent when you showed yourselves to me. For I, I do not believe in YOU!
Well, I grew up, grew out and moved on.
I have a very strong belief in God, the Torah and how that translates into practical living.
But that niggling voice in my mind, that girl they called heretic, speaks up every once in a while.
She screams at me.
I DO NOT BELIEVE!
I give her all the answers and she still persists.
Take it with a grain of salt, you can’t believe him, he has faults.
I proceed with caution. She’s not satisfied.
Can’t you hear me? Do you even listen to me at all?
I stop. I listen. I hear.
I am doubt, hear me roar.
But, no one can. No one can.
Her voice is getting smaller, and in the distance, I hear her say, I don’t believe in YOU, I don’t believe in you…