The day before Purim there was a Purim parade that took place near one of the Orthodox shuls in the area. Our little Bnei Noach group walked in it. I was not sure whether or not I wanted to go. Last year it just did not end up working out, and I was a little relieved about that, truth be told. For a person who was not raised religious, the thought of walking in a big religious parade- yeesh. I mean, people would be looking at us and what if I hate it five minutes in and then have to keep walking while burning with embarrassment? And then costumes are involved and public religious celebration is involved. And I am not even a member of that community. I have never even seen a Purim parade. There were so many variables and new experiences for one day. And then big banners are involved which I do not have any experience with. That is way out of my comfort zone. Banners are big yellow things that have big slogans emblazoned across them. There is emblazoning going on! Give me a break!
Given the myriad fears I had about last year, this year I was not sure whether or not we would go. There were many arguments for going: our three-year-old is big enough to enjoy festive events and costumes so I wanted for him to experience that; I also wanted to support our tiny little group and our devoted rabbi and his wife, who are lovely teachers and friends; and I wanted our son to partake in a religious celebration that is fun. But I still felt weird. I just could not stop thinking about all of the frightening variables in my head. I mulled it over and declared my ambivalence to my husband. He supported my ambivalence and said that he would support any decision I made. I was still ambivalent. Some time went by and then I had to decide, because it was the day before and I needed a costume for our son.
I said to myself, “Self, all of your decisions not to go revolve around being a big chicken. Furthermore, all of your reasons for not going are not taking into consideration the major reason the parade is taking place: Hashem and the unbelievable miracle He worked to save the Jewish people.” Most of my mulling and pondering and fearfulness were about my ego, my feelings, my comfort. In my lack of experience with community and organized religion, and holidays I had neglected to remember that Purim is not about me. Go figure. Despite this realization, I declared to my husband that I needed a sign. I declared that I would try one kids’ consignment shop and if they had a costume for under ten dollars, I would take that as I sign we should go.
I drove to the store. I looked around for a few minutes, but no luck. Then I spied it, a homemade, funny little Superman costume with a felt ‘S’ hand-sewn to the front and a green cape attached with Velcro, a little crooked. And it was under two bucks. There it was, all decided for me. Our son excitedly declared it a “Super Space Shirt” further cementing my decision.
The next day we met at the designated meeting spot, all four of us, including Jake and our Rabbi. We were behind women dressed as clowns pushing a stroller that contained two pugs dressed as clowns. Our banner was large and emblazoned, offering about five feet of giant lettering per Ben or Bat Noach. In spite of my worries, the parade was fun for all and not even a little uncomfortable. And people even cheered for us a little, thank you very much. As we were ending the walk, coming up on the synagogue, someone said, “Noach…Where’s that synagogue?” This forced me to yell at the top of my lungs, “It’s not a synagogue! We are non-Jews who believe in Judaism!” OK, so that was a little embarrassing. Yelling about one’s religious views in public makes me sweat. But the funny thing I realized was that the large group of people behind us looked like they were with us, thus creating the illusion that there is a huge population of Bnei Noach in Atlanta.
The fair was indeed a wacky and joyous event and Jake got to put some wear on his Super Space Shirt. It was not a very religious feeling event for me, despite my religious reasons for going. It is hard to manufacture spiritual feelings. What I did get out of it was a realization that Bnei Noach need to make themselves seen. We need to let people know we are out here, even if there are only a few of us. Hundreds of people saw a loud banner proclaiming our existence. They saw that we have a rabbi, that we have kids. They learned that there is in fact no synagogue called Bnei Noach. OK, maybe that last one is not important, but at least that guy learned that there are non-Jews who live by the Torah.
I was also very glad we went and participated because some of our very small group could not, unbeknownst to me, attend. Then we would have missed an opportunity to let the Jewish community near us know we are here. Who knows how many people read that banner? And perhaps some of those people will meet other Bnei Noach who will then join us or at least feel encouraged by our existence. I am beginning to see as I age that sometimes just showing up and being there with your people is what builds a community. You do not need to do a great deal other than be somewhere together, to remember that we are not in this alone even if our numbers are small.
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