The first time I intentionally broke a Jewish law, I was in college. It was a Saturday. I glanced around furtively, though I was alone in my dorm room.
Then I flicked off the light, an act forbidden on the Sabbath. I flicked it on again. Around me, in the bright quiet, I exhaled.
This transgressive experiment was inspired by a friend who had grown up Orthodox, as I had, but was no longer and had simply begun trying on small heresies. “Once,” my friend said, “I turned off the light on Shabbat.
And no lightning struck me down.” Now, having confirmed this, I felt giddy with power. As time went on, I experimented more liberally.