To change, to convert? Why bother?
To my surprise, my 70s are nicer than my 60s and my 60s than my 50s, and I wouldn't wish my teens and 20s on my enemies.
What would I have done if I'd been put to the test? Would I have risked my own life for people I hardly knew? Probably, I would have looked the other way at best or become another apologist for evil at worst.
An aged rabbi, crazed with liberalism, once said to me, We Jews are just ordinary human beings. Only a bit more so!
At religious instruction classes, I encountered The Pilgrims Progress by John Bunyan, and the sincerity of the traveller in that book was overwhelming.
Because of my Marxism, I was not into myths or miracles, whether it was the virgin birth, the physical resurrection or casting out demons from an epileptic.
Discrimination against Jews can be read in Thomas Aquinas, and insults against Jews in Martin Luther.
During the Second World War, evacuated to non-Jewish households, I encountered Christianity at home and in school.
Early on I saw the repression and idolatry of Stalinism, and when it cracked, I was open to religion again.
For some years I deserted religion in favour of Marxism. The republic of goodness seemed more attainable than the Kingdom of God.
I am pleased now that I have lived in a gay as well as a religious ghetto, though it hasn't been very comfortable. Taken together, their limitations cancel each other out and I have seen the world more kindly and more honestly.
I didn't want to be on the losing side. I was fed up with Jewish weakness, timidity and fear. I didn't want any more Jewish sentimentality and Jewish suffering. I was sickened by our sad songs.
I feel that the Christian experience and the Jewish one have much to give each other. If this open society continues and there is no return to political anti-Semitism, then this encounter, deeper than any theology, may happen.
I have ended as a Reform Rabbi, grateful to Christianity for so many good things.
I learnt pity, sympathy, and what it was like to be at the other end of the stick. Such lessons can't be learnt in lecture halls.
I recovered my infant Judaism, but in a reformist version.
I thought of such Christian inventions as the ghetto and the Jewish badge of shame. The Nazis didn't have to go very far to pick up their know-how.
I was certainly open for something being on the edge of a nervous breakdown, perplexed by my own sexuality. I was gay.
In speaking of Jesus, I must speak about Christianity because I do not think it possible or profitable to divide the two.
My mother enjoyed old age, and because of her I've begun to enjoy parts of it too. So far I've had it good and am crumbling nicely.
My mother was a modern woman with a limited interest in religion. When the sun set and the fast of the Day of Atonement ended, she shot from the synagogue like a rocket to dance the Charleston.
Old friends die on you, and they're irreplaceable. You become dependent.
Pious XII was too neutral to mention the gas chambers; decent people like my own family were turned into devils by crude Christianity.
Praying privately in churches, I began to discover that heaven was my true home and also that it was here and now, woven into this life.
Some of the parables of the Kingdom made wonderful sense, but the exclusivity in the New Testament put me off.