Title:
Confessions of a Prodigal Daughter
Author: Sarahbeth Caplin
Release Date: July 20, 2014
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In a bittersweet twist of fate, I started
out “too Jewish” for my Catholic friends in elementary
school, but not Jewish enough for the kids I met at summer camp, with their
youth group logos and wristbands. In Israel, I didn’t feel I had the
right to call myself Jewish at all. Now I was too Christian for Jews everywhere,
but still too Jewish to completely fit in with my new bible study
friends.
In my most pessimistic moments, I wonder if
I’ll never fit in anywhere, with anyone. It’s interesting
because Christians are called to be pariahs, to go against the ways of this
world. But I am a special kind of
pariah.
My days of trying to fit in with my college
ministry can best be described as a fish learning to fly. I was making friends,
but I also felt extremely inadequate, surrounded by Christians who had been
Christians since diapers. Outside of that, when I met new people who knew
nothing of my past, the cross necklace I wore gave the impression that I was a
“cradle Christian” as
well.
That’s not wrong or anything. It
just bothered me because that isn’t me at all: I’m not and
probably never will be someone who fits the curious, cultural Christian
‘normal.’
I’ll never forget my first day of
Sociology class my junior year, and the odd series of events that happened
after that. I arrived a few minutes early, so after selecting a seat at the back
of the auditorium, I quietly read my bible. Soon I was interrupted by a tap on
my shoulder and a voice that chirped, “Whatcha
readin’?”
This intrusion by a complete stranger felt
rude and startling. Upon turning around, I’m embarrassed to say my
annoyance quickly evaporated when I saw that the person who interrupted me was
a guy, and he happened to be quite attractive. From the get-go, he assumed I
was one of those nerdy Jesus Freaks. He nicknamed me “Christian
Nerd,” which eventually got shortened to just
“Nerd.” I couldn’t come up with any clever
nicknames for him so I just called him by his given name:
Ryan.
Every day he would sit next to me, and
every day he would greet me with, “What’s up, Nerd? Save
any souls lately?” I always brushed him off, but was oddly flattered
that my spiritual devotion was recognized in such a way that didn’t
make him want to run in the opposite direction. When I used to tell people I wanted
to be a rabbi, one of two things would happen next: they would be very
interested and want to know more, or wonder what planet I just landed
from.
Ryan seemed to have me all figured out
within the first week of class. He thought I was from a family of devout
Christian Republicans who home-schooled me, forbid me to wear makeup, listen to
secular music, go on dates, or see any movie rated higher than
PG.
I didn’t have the heart to tell
him I was descended from a long line of liberal Jews who always voted Democrat,
drank, cursed, and believed the only unforgiveable sin was rooting against the
New York Yankees.
He was funny at first, but the constant
heckling about my apparent prude-like ways was starting to get old
fast.
Then
one day he asked for my number, which led to asking me out for lunch after
class. I let his good looks get in the way of my good judgment by saying
yes.
Meeting for lunch at Wendy’s
after class became a tradition, until one day he informed me that, while I was
cute and all, he didn’t see me as a potential girlfriend because I
was…wait for it…too Christian for
him.
From “too Jewish” for
Simon at Hillel to “too Christian” for Ryan in the span of
a single year. Go figure.
Beth holds a bachelor's degree in English
Literature from Kent State University. It was during college that she first saw
her name in print as a columnist for her campus newspaper, The Daily Kent
Stater. Now living in Denver, Colorado, she can be found in various
microbreweries when not chained to her laptop working on future
books.
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