Book excerpt

Perhaps—and I say perhaps only to soften the message—an external deity isn’t the true authority of your spiritualigious life. And perhaps—again, just saying perhaps to soften the idea—no person outside of yourself is the best authority on your spiritualigious life. 

This isn’t to say that you shouldn’t consult with experts. Talk with experts—but allow yourself to be the determining vote.

Perhaps it’s you? Forget about perhaps—of course it’s you! You are the true authority of your spiritualigious life.

Third year of rabbinical school, there’s a note in my school mailbox, which I check obsessively. Later, when cell phones and email come around, I’ll check those obsessively, too. Brian, Dean Bycel would like to see you immediately after classes today. I recognize the handwriting—Marci, his adorable receptionist.

“I guess when you’re summoned, you summon,” I say Seinfeld-like when I arrive. Marci chuckles. The inner-office door opens. The tall dean, in a blue blazer, says, “Come in. And thanks for coming.”

“Of course, I came. I was summoned.” I sit. 

“Brian, Brian,” he starts, signaling exasperation. 

The meeting concerns an Introduction to Judaism class I’m teaching at one of L.A.’s two gay synagogues. Turns out the dean heard that I taught my class that Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob probably weren’t father, son, and grandson as presented in the Bible. 

As I had explained to the class, “these are just stories. Possibly from different tribes, explaining how they came to be one larger, more inclusive group.” 

“Brian, you have to be careful with whom you share the truth,” the dean says.

I realize I’m living in a small Jewish fishbowl, where someone in a class complains to their rabbi that the student teacher questions the reality of the stories in the Bible and that it’s a big enough deal for the rabbi to call the dean to then castigate me. 

We chat a little until it’s time for me to leave. “I thank you for taking this in good spirits, Brian. I certainly hoped you would.”

“Well, I thank you for the admonition,” I say, smiling. “Summon me anytime.” 

He laughs politely.

Later in life, I’ll reevaluate my instinctual desire to fawn, to please authority.

“Hey,” I say, casually, on my way out the door, “Might you recommend a therapist? I have some things I feel the need to work out.” I think, but do not say, “Like, how I’m not supposed to teach what I know to be true?”