“Question—maybe a heavy question, and I actually don’t have a ton of time now, so you can save the answer for later—but when and why did you decide to become more religious and connected to Judaism?”

My handsome, talented, 25-year-old cousin, Aaron, asked me the above question via Facebook messenger, the medium for existential conversations these days. What elicited the question? Did I announce a decision to start keeping Shabbat? Kosher? The laws of dressing modestly?

No. I did, however, post a picture of myself with a rabbi. And not just any rabbi: Rabbi Abraham Twerski. I had the privilege of hearing Rabbi Twerski speak one very cold winter night this past February at the Fifth Avenue Synagogue in Manhattan. When, after the lecture, a photographer offered to take a photo of me with Rabbi Twerski, I jumped at the chance, flashing the biggest grin possible. Being a huge fan of Rabbi Twerski’s books and talks (and a groupie in general), I was elated. Of course, the next obvious step was to post the photo on social media—immediately!

(I’d be remiss if I didn’t at least mention the topic of the lecture. Here’s the takeaway: 1. You’re enough. 2. Be a giver. You’re welcome.)

Back to the picture. Perhaps, it could have been a picture of me with any rabbi—a man with a beard, dark suit and hat—that sparked my cousin’s question. But, I didn’t think of the picture as an emblem of my religious status. I didn’t think of myself as fitting into a particular category of Judaism, so I would tell people that I was a non-practicing orthodox Jew. (Think about it.)

In my job for the federal government, I was working in a culturally diverse environment, and it felt like everything was pulling me away from the Judaism I grew up with. I had gone to a Jewish high school, and from there went on to work at a number of Jewish organizations. Working for the government was my first experience outside of the Jewish bubble.

In this new environment, I realized that up until that point I had been spoon-fed my Judaism; there was every opportunity to participate in Jewish events and traditions. But, it was only when I lost that, when invitations to Chanukah parties became invitations to Christmas parties, that I felt something was missing.

I was now in a position where, if I wanted Judaism in my life, I had to actively seek it out. I had taken it all for granted: the wonderful buzz around Jewish holidays, being around people who understood what I meant when I talked about going on a shabbaton . . . Working in a non-Jewish environment paradoxically propelled me to seek a greater connection to Judaism. Perhaps it’s only once we lose something that we realize the place it held in our hearts.

I've always been spiritual. For me, it’s not about the label (and Judaism has many labels to choose from). For me it’s about being a Jew and using that opportunity to connect to my soul. For some, a connection to soul includes nature or singing or caring for one’s family, and all of those things can be included in the quest for spirituality. For me, that list also includes specific Jewish events: going to Torah classes, participating in social gatherings, going to a Shabbat meal or lighting the Shabbat candles.

My response to Aaron’s question resonated with him. He too felt the pull to connect to Judaism during his time as a student at Stony Brook University. He said that the fact that there were so few Jews on campus lit a fire within him to participate more in Jewish life.

While a person’s level of observance or participation in Jewish life can fluctuate, we are all on the same quest, the same journey. Someone might look different than us, maybe even very different than us, but don’t be fooled by appearances.

May we be a close-knit community and be strong in our search for connection to the essence of who we are. Amen.

This article is dedicated to our grandfather, Yaakov Yehuda ben Tzvi Dov, of blessed memory.