I grew up in north Texas, between Dallas of Dallas fame and Fort Worth, whose claim to import is that it forms the demarcation between the South and the West, as in the antebellum and wild West, respectively. My contact with Judaism was limited to mentions of the Old Testament, Rugrats Chanukah specials and the little blue menorah of lights that would appear in the window of the last house on my block. I knew two Jews, though I wasn't aware of that until they casually mentioned having gone to "camp" together, and then indulged my questions-a summer camp? Like hiking and swimming? Like Girl Scouts? Therefore, the Jewish character of this university wasn't on my list of interests when I looked into the school. In fact, I came upon Brandeis through a series of coincidences-a scene in Annie Hall, a conversation with my father's coworker, a list of cool dorms in my high school counseling office. When I realized that I had to come here-that there really wasn't another school for me-the fact that it had a Jewish leaning didn't occur to me. I assumed that it would likely be Jewish in the way that Texas Christian University is Christian, or in the way that Southern Methodist University is Methodist-vaguely and occasionally and, in any case, unnoticeably.

It was only upon arrival that I realized this university isn't anything like that. The Jewish presence was something I found active and unique, more than a vestigial title from a distant founding, though still at times shy and elusive, which prevents one from calling the school "Jewish," per se. I mispronounced all of the names at least once (Lown as "loan," for example, and I still only mumble "Usdan"), both of places and people, and I found their sounds at once heavy and also lyrical, mournful and lilting. Fridays seemed, at first, strange to me; I curiously accepted a couple of tea light candles in front of the Usdan Student Center once and made the mistake of asking the guy distributing them, "What's this?"

The list of culture shocks goes on. And yet I hardly realized how much I had grown to love it-this slight spin on an otherwise familiar world-until a friend from home asked me: Don't you feel isolated?

And the answer is not at all.

The atmosphere of education is inviting, especially so for those who went through high school notorious for bookwormishness. Through people I have known and classes I have taken, I have learned that a major theme of the Jewish religious experience is education-studying and learning as opposed to running through the text like a software agreement and mentally checking "I agree." There are running dialectics within the religion itself, a tradition of learning through argument and an interest in consideration and contemplation that lends itself greatly to a well-rounded and involved education. Nothing here is treated above criticism, and criticism is rarely dealt with as an attack, yet often as legitimization.

Also notable is the department of Near Eastern and Judaic Studies for its strength and consistency. Other schools seem to lack the rigor, thoroughness and intensity of this program, which has classes and professors I have always found to be fascinating and perhaps informed by more than simple scholarship.

And beyond the academic education is a training for how one might proceed in life as a decent person. Dietary rules and restrictions, codes of contact and etiquette regarding the method in which one writes certain words (like "God") seem at first, to the uninitiated, strange and possibly off-putting. But in an ever-smaller world, one comes to find that all cultures and religions have their bylaws, things which must or mustn't be done at certain times or in certain places, things which should or shouldn't be eaten, things that have to be or can't be said. Through interacting daily with a set of cultural traditions one may find himself far more sensitive to the global myriad of varieties; many of one's personal rules that often go unnoticed may also come to light upon considerations of someone else's. Know thyself, as they say.

The spirit here, the Jewish character of the places and buildings and often the people, has been for me a most enjoyable learning experience. Going home is actually a little strange now, flat somehow, lacking a little something that is uniquely Brandeis. Though many changes in administration have taken place on campus recently, I should hope that no matter what happens, the Jewish presence here should never deteriorate.