Believe

Ever noticed that the word believe has lie right in the middle of it? Don't be insulted by this if you're super religious, these are just the musings of a fourteen-year-old athiest. It's as if people choose to ignore the fact that their beliefs are centered around stories simply to have something to cling to in darkness. It doesn't matter if they're clinging to lies as long as there's something to hold on to. I'd rather fall than hold onto lies.

I was born into a reform Jewish family, and we go to the synagogue fairly regularly (although not as much as we "should.") and I only sing the hymns because I love singing. The Hebrew might as well be coarse gibberish on my lips. The rabbi's sermons mean nothing to me, and the way the cantor davens and closes his eyes revrently breaks my heart because I simply don't believe. I am an outsider in a sea of faith and prayer. I choose to keep my head above water rather than submerge myself in religion, closing my eyes in the face of the impossible and swallowing the unbelieveable.

I used to believe when I was little. I had no question that there was a god. I don't know what happened. I feel disconnected from religion, from my synagogue. I have to go to confirmation classes, and I am ashamed of the fact that I no longer believe, that I am even more of an outsider among the congregation. The students in the classes are as different as can be. None of us really fit in with each other, but we have friends. The other students have no trouble making conversation and being friendly. I am on the fringes. Speaking is hard for me, and now that I no longer even have Judaism in common with them, where do I stand? With my faith, my voice vanished as well.