When I’m asked what Judaism means to me, the best I can say is that it’s as much a part of me as breathing. But it hasn’t always been this way.

I was raised in a Jewish home and went to Hebrew school my entire life, but after my Bar Mitzvah (a coming-of-age ceremony for young men at 13), I felt Judaism could no longer provide the fulfillment I needed. I explored other faiths and especially found myself drawn to the inclusive and nature-centric beliefs of Neo-Paganism. This began to change when my parents made me volunteer at the same religious school I’d gone to as a child, and over the course of my first year there I began to learn about dimensions of Judaism I’d never seen before. Soon I discovered the spirituality I had left in search of had been there all along.

As I grew closer to Judaism, I also began the process of coming out to myself, and when I could deny neither side of my identity any longer, I was challenged to reconcile two seemingly opposing ideas. For months I wrestled with myself, reading various Jewish texts about “halakha” (Jewish law) and homosexuality. I learned more about Jewish history and the Torah than I’d imagined possible when this journey began, and when I finally felt whole again, I found myself only more deeply tied to my faith — not in spite of, but because of my being gay.

Since then, being Jewish has been an important part of my identity, but being Jewish is more than just a religion. In its broadest sense, Judaism is as much cultural as it is religious, and simply being Jewish connects me to people across campus and even around the world. In its strictest sense, Judaism is my spiritual life-support.

One of the greatest impacts Judaism has had on me is my reverence for learning. Judaism encourages living in a state of constant becoming, and studying the Torah is revered as a way of growing closer to God. Jewish culture encourages asking “Why?” and this instilled in me a sense of curiosity that has shaped every stage of my life. I believe the world is a reflection of God’s perfection, and seeking to understand the world helps me to understand God. One of the most spiritual moments I ever had was in my high school physics course when I learned ten equal sources of sound doubles its loudness — ten being the minimum number of Jewish adults required to pray together. The reason behind the importance of ten adults is disputed, but the correlation I saw between science and faith only deepened its significance for me.

Judaism is also a key factor in my passion for environmental issues and fighting for equality and human rights. This is best explained through two concepts: The first is “b’tzelem Elohim,” the idea that we’re all created in the image of God and therefore obligated to treat everyone with the same respect we would give to God. The second is “tikkun olam,” or repairing the world, which says it’s our responsibility to safeguard and protect all of God’s creations. Together, these ideals have helped me devote myself to leadership and service, especially in regards to sustainability and the GLBT community.

At the end of the day, it’s hard to separate my Jewishness from the rest of my identity: it influences the things I say, the causes I champion, the food I eat, how I treat others and spend my time on campus. Being Jewish really is as much a part of me as breathing.