Going Kosher My Story

Myfather was a profoundly religious Catholic, and most of my childhood was spent with him inside our southern Pennsylvania church. My siblings and I sang in the choir and served as altar boys.

As I entered my teenage years, I became rebellious despite my strong faith. Eventually, in my senior year, I was expelled from high school and started living independently. But living on your own costs money, and since I couldn't hold a job, I was soon looking at an eviction notice. Feeling overwhelmed and seeking a fresh start, I loaded a few pairs of jeans and Metallica t-shirts into a box and drove my Nissan Pathfinder toward the lights of New York City.

Far from my parents, I found freedom from my Catholic youth. But like my first attempt at independent living, my carefree journey of living out of my car and partying took a turn when my money ran out, and the NYPD finally impounded my car.

It was wintertime, and I was sitting alone in a Starbucks that smelled of pumpkin spice, hoping someone would buy me a hot drink. It was a new world with endless possibilities, but I had no plan.

As the sun set, I noticed a teenager wearing a kippa ordering a kosher black coffee. Seeking to connect in this unfamiliar place, I quickly started chatting with him and mentioned that I was Catholic, but my mother was Jewish, like him. He smiled and said, "That means you are also Jewish."

What? It had never occurred to me that I might be Jewish. Luckily, I now know that the teenager in a kippa was right. I am Jewish, and today, I'm a Chabad Rabbi living