Central Florida's Independent Jewish Voice
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(JTA)—The year I unwittingly decided to become Christian started innocently enough. “There’s a sleepover at First Methodist on Friday and everyone is going,” I said to my parents. I was in the sixth grade, one of three Jews in class at our Texas public school. We lived in an area where there was at least one church on every block. It took us 45 minutes to get across town to temple, where we attended Hebrew school once a week. “So, can I go? Please?! I’ll die if I don’t go!” I begged, neglecting to mention that missing a social event where Cha...