Everyone has one question that they have trouble answering. For some it’s “Where do your parents live?” For others, “What’d you get on the Biology exam?” For me, and for a good majority of my senior classmates, it’s “So what are you going to do after graduation?”
I’ve known that I wanted to be a reform Rabbi since I was 14. I was the Beth Emeth enthusiast who didn’t mind Hebrew School, sang in the synagogue choir every week, and got sucked into youth group at an early age. I was the president of my synagogue’s confirmation class, president of my temple’s youth group, and president of University of Delaware’s Reform Organization, Kesher. An ex-boyfriend’s parents once said, “We just asked for a Jewish girl, we didn’t think you’d bring home a rabbi.”
But every time I have to answer that awful question, I get queasy and nervous. Living in the huge, culturally diverse mecca that is the state of Delaware, many people do not even know what a rabbi is. Others have said, “Wow, that’s cool, what religion is that for again?” Still others crinkle their eyebrows as they try to picture a beard, caftan, and a dark hat over my small, very cute 5’2” frame. Some people are just impressed that I have a goal that is atypical.
Now that I’m a college senior, my dreams are slowly turning into reality. I’ve filled out lengthy applications, and am awaiting nail-biting interviews. Even though I can answer the first uncomfortable question – “What do you want to be when you grow up” – my answer has only spawned more questions. I’m supposed to know whether I think God answers prayers, what I would tell a grieving parent, and if I know I’m making the right decision. I’ve been trying to figure out all the answers to these questions, and I’ve come to the same conclusion over and over again. As long as I’m true to myself, I’ll make the correct choice about my future. And I’m confident knowing that internally, my uncomfortable question is a comfortable one.
