Leon and Winifred Star, my parents, were of different religions—my Dad, a non-practicing Jew and Mom a Congregational (which I believe is some sort of Protestant). But there was no argument between them that their two daughters would be raised Jewish. When you have a non-Jewish mother and a Jewish father, however, you are never really considered a Jew. The law has it funny this way but my father adamantly refuted that ruling (as did my mom) so sis and I always just felt we were the real things. No contest.

There was a small problem, though, in that I never fully understood the notion of God, that white-haired man pictured in all my Bible study books and looming around the temple walls. Studied as I was the concept never solidified for me, but I didn’t argue it either. What would that be worth? The Hebrew school teachers were nice enough about God and he was always seen doing good things, so who was I to argue? I learned my lessons, spoke a bit of Hebrew, went to temple as directed, and racked up the points for how many Friday night services I attended (it increased as you got older, alas). Good Jew that I was I did my duty.

When we were old enough (probably pre-adolescent), the folks let us discontinue the lessons and temple-going in order that we could spend weekends in our “weekend and summer” home. This was certainly a welcome respite from the Saturday-Sunday Bible study mode—an escape to a place where we could ride horses and run through the fields instead of slumping over wooden desks in a stuffy religious school classroom. We could play and act out as kids after all.

In one corner of our expansive property there was a smooth, large rock to climb upon and a decades old weeping willow tree to linger under. It was a favorite place of mine where I could go to be alone and contemplate my stuff. I remember with clarity the day I finally realized the real God. It just came over me like a shear, clear epiphany. A belief in something higher, not manly or stuck in a temple, but ethereal, within the cosmic forces of the universe and you and me and everyone else. What a feeling—to finally just get it. I was exhilarated beyond words and so young for such a discovery, I thought. What struck me most about my revelation was the stillness of the climate and arrangement of the rock and tree at the time my thoughts ascended. These objects of nature were simply lurking there supporting my understanding of this higher power which seemed estranged from man yet fully aligned with man. I think I cried a bit and was riveted to this rock-tree area for hours, gazing at the sky and feeling more special than I had ever felt in my life.

I kept this revelation to myself. Who would have believed me anyway since I was just a kid? They would probably figure it was some sort of religious rebellion and rejection of all that Jewishness I was supposed to have acquired. I think I did get it right, though, about this God concept, because it has served me well from then on. Isn’t that the true test of our faith and belief?