WHAT DOES IT TAKE TO CHANGE YOUR LIFE? ASK A BAAL TESHUVA, AND ASK YOURSELF, TOO.

Imagine a dinner at a softly lit, elegant restaurant on a harbor. Large windows offer a view of the waterfront, twinkling with the lights of moored boats. At a linen-covered table for two, Rachel and Susan are deep in discussion, sharing their thoughts and laughing at their private jokes.

They’ve been there for two hours, reminiscin.g over glasses of wine, plates of artfully spiced seafood, a wedge of rich chocolate mousse cake (split between them, of course) and now, some coffee and Amaretto. They are lost in a happy fog of contentment as the waitress indulgently refills their coffee cups.

Fast-forward ten years. Rachel is now married, the mother of five small children. She and her husband are dividing several portions of French fries among the paper plates spread out on the table of the kosher pizza shop. Their toddler is grinding a small square of pizza onto his face as he attempts to fit it into his little mouth. The infant is slung over Rachel’s forearm; the only position that soothes his colicky tummy. The ambience is more school cafeteria than restaurant.

That moment in the pizza shop was 15 years ago, but Rachel remembers it today.

“It seems like a trivial thing, and it really is,” says Rachel, who is now a grandmother. “But I became suddenly aware that dining out as I knew it was pretty much over. I used to love walking down a street in midtown Manhattan noticing all the different restaurants. Years ago, each of them was like this little world of possibility. It suddenly hit me that I missed that pleasure in life.”

Rachel’s been Torah observant now for more than two decades, and yet, in many ways, she still deals every day with the disconnect between her upbringing and her current life.

“What I have is so much more beautiful and meaningful than anything I could have had in the secular world,” she says. “But that doesn’t mean it’s easy. I once read an article in a Jewish magazine – I can’t remember which one – that said that a person’s idea of ‘normal’ is set by the age of eight or nine. That helped me forgive myself for what I saw as a failure to fully mainstream myself into the frum world.”

Besides these fairly incidental souvenirs of a past lifestyle, many larger and more complex issues may arise from a baal teshuva’s transformation.

Rav Chaim Mintz, shlit’a, Oorah’s founder, tells of a well respected figure in the yeshiva world who grew up in a non-religious home and had been a devoted sports fan. “He admits that to this day, when he hears that his team won, it sends a chill up his spine,” Rav Chaim says. Although this stubborn tether to the secular world may seem fairly benign – there are plenty of mitzvah-observant sports fans – it is an unwanted distraction to this rabbi. It has no place in his current world, a world he embraces wholeheartedly. And yet, it just won’t go away.

Another long-time baalas teshuva talks about her lingering affection for the rock and roll songs of her youth. “It’s nothing I would want my children to listen to,” she says. “But when I hear these songs on the Muzak at the supermarket or even on hold on the phone, I feel like a kid again. I enjoy the energy boost it gives me.”

“I once bumped into a neighbor at Shoprite late one Thursday night. The store was pretty empty and I was enjoying myself, going up and down the aisles at a nice relaxed pace and listening to all my old favorite songs. When I met her, I said, ‘Isn’t this nice? We have the whole place to ourselves!’ She said, ‘It would be great except for that awful music.’ I don’t know. Should I try to force myself to hate it? Is it a flaw in me that I still like it?”

Besides these fairly incidental souvenirs of a past lifestyle, many larger and more complex issues may arise from a baal teshuva’s transformation. There may be a whole world of friends with whom he or she can no longer socialize. Family events that may have once been a source of warmth and connection may become a source of contention.

THE POWER OF HABIT

The strength to change one’s life in so dramatic a way is a tale of heroism that is not fully comprehended by many in the religious world. It would seem enough that the baal teshuva has acquired a great and eternal gift by making this change. Most newly religious people are indeed quick to realize that all the vacations and expensive restaurants and Saturdays at the beach are brightly packaged forms of emptiness.

But it’s not so simple. Human nature fights change at every turn, even when it’s obvious to the person that the change will make a vast improvement in his life. Consider the difficulty a person has in changing one single middah – a process which the baalei mussar say can take an entire life-time. Even if a person knows that, for instance, the trait of anger is wrecking his life, how difficult is it for him to overcome the thoughts, emotions and beliefs that snap together almost instantaneously to make him lose his temper?

In a business magazine recently, an article appeared entitled “Change or Die.” It was aimed at executives who were frustrated in their efforts to make changes in the corporate culture of their companies. The author drew from a medical study to show that even if a person has a choice of changing or dying early, he still resists change. The study followed open-heart surgery patients who were put on heart-healthy regimens following their procedures. For about two months, they dieted, lost weight, exercised regularly and followed doctor’s orders. At that point, compliance began to drop off, and by year’s end, 90 percent of the subjects had reverted to their old habits and were headed for another round on the operating table.

In light of this, the act of turning one’s entire life upside down to become a religious Jew is startling. Baalei teshuva themselves realize that it is only Hashem’s direct guidance that can make it happen. Each has a story to tell, and it is always one of hashgacha pratis – the chance meetings, the inspiring moments, the incredible “coincidences” that paved the path, stone by stone, back to Torah.

But old habits and outlooks do not die easily. Life-long readjustments are needed as the baal teshuva travels through new stages in life. It’s one thing to be a high school student, another thing to be seeking a spouse, another to bring children into the world, and another still to find schools for them and provide them with an upbringing the parent himself never had. A move from one community to another can also destabilize a situation as the baal teshuva, who has perhaps already been religious for many years, discovers that what was acceptable in one community is unheard of in another community.

Who is there to provide support for the baal teshuva when these challenges arise? Their neighbors and fellow community members cannot understand why they should have any special needs. He wears his black hat proudly and learns with a chavrusa every night. She dresses to the letter and the spirit of the laws of modesty, and serves a table full of guests every Shabbos. They are striving, spiritual people who attend shiurim and exude a refreshing aura of idealism. Who understands that they have needs that are unique to their situations?

Oorah does whatever can be done to ensure that the child emerge from his childhood years as a committed, Torah-observant Jew.