I have a distinct memory of my first identification as a Jew. It was around Christmas, and I was probably 4 years old when a special visitor came to my nursery school that was housed in a church. He was an enormous man, dressed in red and sporting a bushy white beard and long white hair. While the other children became quite excited at his arrival my reaction was quite different: I cried. I think more than feeling scared, I felt angry that he was there. So from an early age on, I knew that I was a Jew who never missed Santa Claus.

During the first 26 years of my life, my connection to Judaism has waxed, then waned and then become even stronger than ever. Looking back on the twists and turns my life has taken, I’m sure there are too many coincidences to deny that something kept me from straying from the Jewish community and eventually drew me in.

Growing up in a Conservative affiliated household, I attended a Solomon Schecter Hebrew Day School from Kindegarten through eighth grade, regularly went to Saturday morning services and celebrated my Bat Mitzvah and went to Israel. While in Hebrew Day School I relished my Jewish studies and even considered going on to a Jewish high school. But reluctant to take a 2 hour bus ride each day on top of a busy schedule, instead I opted for public high school and continued remaining active at my local congregation. There would always be a part of me wondering what it would have been like making Judaism a more integral part of my life.

During college at Columbia I attempted to rekindle my involvement in Judaism but had difficulty fitting in with the Conservative and Orthodox students—being incredibly shy and intimidated at the same time—so I gravitated to the smaller Reform group, Kesher. The group was overseen by a warm and approachable rabbi, Jennie Rosenn, whose husband, David Rosenn, founded the Jewish service corps group Avodah. I remember her being an important spiritual counselor and friend during my time at Columbia.

It was during this period of my life that I became more engaged in human rights activism and social justice causes—both through Kesher and through my extracurricular activities. People will always tell you that college is a time for experimentation—and for me it was all about experimenting with left-wing ideology. Engaging on issues like poverty, literacy globalization, the death penalty was part of my self-exploration—it challenged me to figure out what I felt passionate about, what I thought was important and what defined me.

It was an exhilarating time as well as confusing and isolating one for me. Sometimes I found that the secular groups I participated in at college clashed with the Jewish community on anything pertaining to Israel. During the fall of my senior year, the Second Intifada broke out, which definitely increased my sense of confusion. I wanted to do what I believed was the right thing, but I also didn’t want to be perceived as a self-hating Jew and I didn’t want to cut myself off from the Jewish community. I remember walking on campus and watching on one side of college walk the vehement left-wing crowds chanting and holding offensive signs, and on the other side the pro-Israel students chanting and holding their own signs. It was the perfect metaphor for how I felt at that moment: in the middle.

By that time I was definitely grappling with my Judaism, but was still engaged nonetheless. I wanted to learn more about the links between social justice and Judaism and my involvement in Kesher spurred that passion. I became the social justice coordinator for the group and organized literacy projects with a local elementary school. I participated in a Washington DC conference where I went to sessions about tzedekah and environmentalism.

Moving to Washington after college has been one of the most pivotal points in my life. If I had decided to stay in New York, how different everything would be! Who would have known that four years from the time I moved, I would be working at the DC Jewish Community Center, married to a Republican, regularly attending an Orthodox shul and seriously considering a year-long stay in Israel. Judaism has been a major part of my coming out of my shell and has enriched my life in so many ways.

I started getting back into the spiritual groove when I began attending Adas Israel Congregation and DC minyan in DC. Admittedly I was partially interested in finding a cute guy but in the process I met many welcoming, observant people during my first few years here, who introduced me to the joys of observing the Sabbath, davening and studying Torah. I finally began to experience the Judaism that I had always been looking for: a communal, spiritual, pleasurable Judaism that was infused with meaning.

I continued to pursue my interest in tikkun olam issues, interning at Coop America, a consumer activist organization focused on issues like fair trade, sweatshops and social investment; American Rivers, an environmental organization, and Public Citizen’s Global Trade Watch, which focuses on reforming the institutions and laws dealing with global trade. From there I worked for a global security and environment organization called 20/20 Vision, where I worked with groups from many faiths including COEJL and RAC. During this reconnection to Judaism and my career exploration, faith ceased to feel like an obstacle for me and it began to feel like a source of empowerment. It was a memorable experience to see Jews inspired by their faith to pursue social justice.

I also realized that DC was a great place to find Jews like me. I learned that I could be pro-Israel and pro-peace at the same time, becoming one of the initial members of a new organization called Brit Tzedek v’ Shalom, Jewish Alliance for Justice and Peace. What I this organization takes a sensible left of center approach on policies in the Middle East and attempts to engage the Jewish community rather than turn people off. We know we don’t see eye to eye with other Jews all the time, but at least we can have a reasonable conversation and show them that we’re coming from a good place.

But I still haven’t told you of how I came to Ohev! Life took a big turn when I met my husband in a Sukkah after the DC Minyan service at the DCJCC. How about that for a sign of something that’s meant to be!

Moreover, It was through my husband that I began to deepen my understanding and practice of Judaism. After we were engaged we began see how Judaism could help us enhance our relationship. We created a commitment document, which outlined how we would maintain a loving, Jewish home, and took a great deal of time to plan the Jewish wedding ceremony. We read books like the Committed Marriage by Rebbetzin Jungreis.

As Eric yearned for Torah knowledge, he shared what he learned with me. He told me about a book he was reading by Rabbi Twerski, which drew from The Path of the Just. I especially won’t forget when he showed me the passage from Pirkei Avot that really spoke to me: “You are not required to complete the task, yet you are not free to withdraw from it.” To me this verse clearly could be applied to the work of Tikkun Olam and self-improvement. While acknowledging that the responsibility does not fall on one person’s shoulders, the verse encourages us to not be overwhelmed by the task by playing our part.

Then Eric heard about this National Synagogue and this new dynamic rabbi so he emailed him and quickly got a warm reply. Eric suggested we check the place out, so we did and as soon as we got there the Rabbi gave him a big hug. Pretty soon we got invited to his home and got to know some of the congregants better. Eventually I started going to services here more often—I felt like I was drawn in by the friendly and spiritual community and the engaging rabbis who really cared about their congregants. It was so unlike much of what I experienced.

As we became more involved with Ohev, we began to make Judaism an even more integral part of our lives. The more Eric and I got involved, the closer we felt to God and the more we wanted to do. My davening became more focused, more meaningful and Eric told me that he couldn’t get through the day without davening in the morning.We koshered our home and started using timers for lights on Shabbat and keeping away from cell phones and the Internet. Now we feel like we can’t do without Shabbat. It is an oasis of time that gives me an opportunity to remember what’s important. Taking our honeymoon in Israel certainly increased my connection to God and being a Jew. Our adventures in Jerusalem, Tsfat, the Mediterranean coast and the Golan opened my eyes to the stunning beauty and richness of the country, which you can never get from reading the headlines.

As we read Twerski’s writings and attended the Rabbi’s class on the Path of the Just, we saw how so much of Judaism is about self-improvement. One of the aspects of Judaism that I love is the importance of always trying to be a better person. You can’t just give charity and then say, ‘okay I don’t need to be nice to anyone now.’ Ironically, this message doesn’t always come across in the social justice community. We focus on improving the problems in the world, but don’t necessarily connect them back to ourselves and our own mishugas.

I often remember what my Rabbi in college told me: practicing Judaism is like practicing a musical instrument—the more you do it, the better you get. I have also realized that the more you do it, the harder it is to live without it, and you realize what you’ve been missing out on.