I am not sure when I started joking about being Jewish. For as long as I can remember, I have always said I am a lousy Jew, because I have no interest in the religion. As a kid, I went to Hebrew school every Sunday, held in the basement of Hillcrest Jewish Center in Queens, NY. It was a very popular place in the community I grew up in. As a boy, I was certainly aware of other religions and ethnicities, but there were a lot of us, at least that’s how it felt as a kid.

My father died when I was nine and my mother absolutely had to go to work to support my brother and myself. She had to be close to the two of us, so she was fortunate to find a job as the bookkeeper at Hillcrest, which she kept for decades.

The Jewish religion is a very pragmatic one, evolving over the millennia, adjusting to changing circumstances. What other religion would allow for an extremely orthodox practice, a more forgiving interpretation and finally, one that is modern, using English instead of Hebrew? I think negotiating has been a skill of my people forever and they even negotiated with God in order to maintain the flock.

The Passover Seder, the holiday meal, has a very specific prayer book and a carefully constructed meal, filled with symbology. When I was forced to go to those family gatherings, I can’t say I ever looked forward to them. They were incredibly boring and all the very old, looking parents were busy reciting the prayers. I went to one recently and there are now hipster influences, with a coolly designed prayer book in English and only snatches of the food rituals, mixed with Vegan and Gluten Free entries. I have always loved how the religion is like a widening pyramid, tight at the top, but broader toward the bottom.

In Hebrew school, we learned about the history of the Jewish people and certain ritual prayers. We weren’t taught the language, so everything bounced between the two. In fairness, its primary function was to get us to the point where we wouldn’t embarrass our parents at our Bar and Bat Mitzvahs. These celebrations were pretty big deals back in the late Fifties, but they have since become extraordinary extravaganzas, costing thousands and thousands. Please, don’t get me wrong, I am not remotely implying that wealthy parents love their children more or less. The religion has wide arms, partially because a piece of our DNA understands how close we have always been to extinction.

Aside from parental Influences, I am not sure what has a greater power to point us toward one religion over another. I was part of the exploding middle class following the Second World War. Auschwitz was fucken real and my people carried a quiet, heavy burden, in spite of the incredible opportunities. I am pretty sure we invented the nose job, so young Jewish girls would look more American. We were excluded from all the enclaves of White wealth, whether being prohibited from upper management or being turned away from a beautiful golf club.

I always sat in the back of the class at Hebrew and paid as little attention as possible. Remember, I was just entering the hormone circus and the girls were even further along. One of them brought in these strange, mushroom shaped falsies and it made such an impression, fresh even sixty years after their clandestine exposure. I didn’t take any of it seriously and only wanted to make sure I didn’t fuck up during my Bar Mitzvah.

As soon as I hit eighteen, I figured I was old enough to bail on all family, religious gatherings and my mother would be off the hook in terms of having to justify my absence to the aunts and uncles. Gradually, I lost touch with all that until having a brief re-introduction upon my marriage. All of sudden, Jewish became important again in terms of the marriage ceremony and holiday observances thereafter, but I made a complete disconnection after the demise of the marriage.

When I ultimately left NYC in ’87 and came to northern New Mexico, one of the most beautiful places God could possibly imagine, I lost touch with any possible connection to my Jewishness. Out there, on a land befitting any biblical landscape, I found myself drawn to the ideas of Zen, but never thought of it as a religion and I still don’t. I am one of those idiots, who keeps looking at the world around him and the Buddha seemed like a guy I would definitely want to hang out with. I likely would have been a pain in the ass.

Whenever the Jewish thing came up, I would always say I am a lousy Jew. God bless my mother, Ida, if I ever brought up the plight of the Palestinians and how unfair it seemed, she’d get angry and it never seemed important enough to upset her further. I would likely mention some of the things I alluded to above about my history and my seemingly, endless supply of opinions.

I always explain that the whole Jewish thing is unique, because it is both a religion and an ethnicity. I am a Jew and i am Jewish. I have never felt apart from my tribe and have always known it was my blood. My closer was always that Hitler did not give a shit whether I was a good Jew or a bad Jew!

This morning, I was Jewish. My people were killed and it is following me around wherever I go now. My mother was furious when I bought a fire engine red, ’68 Volkswagen Beetle, because it was German made. The wounds were much fresher back then, but I always felt far away from all that.

I sat with the news for a couple of hours and it initially registered as another, senseless mass killing, but this time it was in a synagogue. Tragically for our country, it registered as just another one.

I wrote a short note to one of my sons about it, precipitating a full on melt down. He is my blood, igniting a tribal sense from deep within.

I’m a Jew. I am filled with sadness.