It is the heart which experiences god, and not the reason.
-Blaise Pascal

By the time Friday evening arrives, Blaine’s mind is exhausted and all he really wants to do is sleep. However, he had promised Rachel he would come to dinner. Of course, he didn’t tell his mom and dad that he was going to dinner at a Jewish home, he simply said that a friend in Glee club invited and he accepted.

When Blaine arrives on the doorstep of the Berry household, the first thing he notices is a small, narrow fixture attached to the doorway. There isn’t anything particularly special about the object, except for the fact that there’s a Hebrew inscription. Puzzled, Blaine knocks on the door.

Rachel opens the door immediately.

“Hi!” she greets happily with her broad, effervescent smile. “Come in!”

She practically pulls him inside and Blaine nearly trips on the rug as she does so.

“Dad, Blaine’s here!” she shouts as she slams the door closed.

“We’ll be in the dining room in a second, honey!” a male voice calls from what Blaine presumes to be the kitchen.

Still smiling, Rachel drags Blaine into the dining room. On the table, he sees two, tall, silver candlestick holders, complete with two tapered candles. Surrounding the candles is a large plate of brisket, a massive bowl of what looks to be mashed sweet potatoes, a glass bowl of salad, various dishes filled with vegetables, and something covered under a cloth. Everything smells outrageously delicious and for a good few seconds, all of Blaine’s troubles seem to leave him and all he wants to do is eat until he’s fit to burst.

“So this is Blaine,” says a small man with glasses perched upon his nose. He sets down another bowl of salad and offers Blaine his hand.

“H-hello,” Blaine greets nervously, unable to tear his eyes away from the small, black hat atop his head as he shakes his hand.

The man smiles and reaches into his back pocket. From behind his back, he pulls out another cap.

“Yarmulkes. We ask that you wear one as well, but only during the prayers.”

Blaine stares up at the man in complete confusion but he takes the small cap anyway.

“I’m guessing Rachel didn’t tell you that this is a Shabbat dinner,” he says, rolling his eyes with a smile still on his lips.

“A what?”

“I was going to tell him,” Rachel defends herself. “I didn’t think he’d come if he knew all it entailed.”

“What’s the problem?”

Another man, this one taller with black skin walks out of the kitchen, wiping his hands on a dish towel.

“It seems your lovely daughter forgot to inform our guest that Friday nights are Shabbat dinners,” the smaller man says.

“She’s your daughter when she’s conniving.”

“Oh right. I forgot.”

“Hey!” Rachel screeches indignantly.

“Never mind, honey. Blaine, I’m Avi,” the white man says, “and this is Darrel.”

“It’s nice to meet you both,” Blaine says shyly. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean – I just – I knew you were Jewish but-”

“No worries, kid,” Darrel says with a pat on his shoulder. “There’s not much to a Shabbat dinner, really. It’s just customary for the men to wear yarmulkes during the dinner, but we only ask that guests wear them during the prayers said at the beginning. If it makes you uneasy, though-”

“No, no it’s fine,” Blaine says, holding his cap up. He tries to place it on his head, but the thing just slips right off his gelled curls. “Um…”

“Here,” Rachel fusses, taking a few clips out of her own hair. She snaps the yarmulke in place, digging the pointy clips into his hair. He winces at the force of the action, but when Rachel steps away, the little cap remains on his head.

“And now we sit,” Avi says with a smile, directing Blaine toward a chair.

The men sit around the table but Rachel stands at the head, picking up a small box of matches.

“Just follow our lead,” Avi instructs.

Completely baffled by everything around him, Blaine sits in silence as Rachel pulls a match out of the box. It’s weird because he’s barely even said anything to these men and here he is, at their table, ready to follow whatever religious customs they may have. It’s completely bizarre, but it would be entirely rude just to walk out, even if he’s wholly uncomfortable.

Rachel strikes the match. As she lights the candles, she begins to speak.

“Barukh ata Adonai Eloheinu Melekh ha’olam, asher kid'shanu b'mitzvotav v'tzivanu l'hadlik ner shel Shabbat.”

Having absolutely no idea what has just been said, Blaine stares, observing the proceedings. The match having gone out, Rachel sets it aside and picks up an ornate, silver cup. Rachel and both of her fathers begin speaking.

“Barukh atah Adonai, Eloheinu, melekh ha'olam borei p'ri hagafen.”

At that, Rachel takes a sip from the cup and passes it to one of her dads, who takes a sip as well. He passes it to Blaine, who, not wanting to offend anyone, takes a drink. Oh. Wine. Well, okay, he thinks, savoring the dry, sweet, bitter taste of the drink as he passes it to Rachel’s other father. Once the cup is placed on the table again, Rachel pulls back the cloth covering the mystery dish, which turns out to be two large loaves of some sort of bread.

“Baruch atah Adonai, eloheinu melech ha'olam, hamotzi lechem min ha'aretz,” they all say simultaneously as Rachel cuts into one of the loaves. “Amen.”

“Shabbat Shalom,” Rachel says with a smile.

“Shabbat Shalom,” her dads echo.

“Shabbat Shalom?” Blaine offers, hoping he says the phrase correctly.

The men and Rachel laugh good naturedly. “Nicely done,” Darrel says as Rachel takes her seat.

“Can I ask why the bread was covered?”

“Challah,” Rachel says, tearing the slice of bread into four pieces, “is covered in order to keep it fresh.”

Everyone at the table eats a piece of the bread and wow, Blaine thinks as he chews, this is amazing. It’s kind of doughy but very, very sweet. He’s glad they have two loaves because yeah, he’s definitely going to want to eat more. After that, it seems to be a free for all as everyone fills their plates with delicious food.

The most amazing part of this Shabbat dinner is the fact that Blaine hadn’t even given a second thought to the fact that both of the men at the table were gay, much less that they were partners. Only when he sees Avi reach for Darrel’s hand does the notion even enter his head. There’s still the clatter of forks and spoons digging out potatoes but for a small moment, the two men stop and entwine their fingers. They gaze into each other’s eyes and stare at one another with small, easy smiles.

Because they love each other.

The realization hits Blaine hard, as if he was just slapped by the hand of God himself.

He’s so busy staring at their hands and making sense of this epiphany that he doesn’t even notice Darrel giving him a strange, calculating glance.

“So Blaine,” he says, catching Blaine’s attention. “I’m guessing you’ve never experienced anything that Jewish before, have you?”

Dinner was quite a loud affair, given that Rachel is a loud person. Most of the dinner was spent with her boasting about her recent acquisition of a solo for sectionals and when she wasn’t her dads were cracking jokes about almost everything. By the end, Blaine was biting his cheeks so hard to keep from laughing too loudly that he was sure they might be bleeding.

“Rachel, honey, would you mind helping me clean up?” Avi asks sweetly once dinner is over.

“Sure, daddy.”

As they carry the dishes into the kitchen, Blaine finally remembers the yarmulke on top of his head and busies himself with unclasping Rachel’s hair clips.

“You’re welcome to stay for coffee and cake if you want,” Darrel says as Blaine removes the cap.

“Oh, um, yeah. Sure,” he says. The sense of awkward had long passed and Blaine is beginning to feel at ease in the Berry household, despite being surrounded by three Jews, two gay men, one of which is black.

It’s almost comical.

He stands when Darrel stands and follows the larger man into the living room. It’s a cozy space, even though it’s large, and the room is covered in various photographs of their small family. He spots Rachel in many pictures, at multiple ages, dressed in multicolored tutus with her unforgettable smile. She looks rather cute as a child.

The room looks…like a normal living room. Not the living room of a Jewish family, not the living room of a gay couple, but just a living room. The only thing that stands out to him as abnormal or unusual is the small painting that almost resembles a tapestry, no bigger than an average man’s hand, hanging beneath a large picture of their entire family. Painted on a rainbow background is a picture of a golden hand, as if the palm is facing upward, and in the center of the palm is an eye. Above the hand, one word is etched that Blaine cannot read: קשת

“It means rainbow in Hebrew,” Darrel says from behind him. “It’s a hamsa. The eye in the middle is meant to ward off the evil eye. It’s a symbol of protection.”

“It’s lovely,” Blaine remarks.

“It’s actually a symbol that spans religions, namely Judaism and Islam.”

Blaine nods and continues to glance around the room. Honestly, he feels like maybe he should be a little…put off by a symbol for a religion that isn’t his own. But really, he just kind of sees it as beautiful.

He hears the sound of running water, clanking dishes, and laughter echoing from the kitchen.

It just feels like a home. It just feels like a family.

He is, however, completely thrown off when he sees a picture of what must be a younger Darrel next to a Christmas tree.

“I…thought Jews didn’t celebrate Christmas,” Blaine offers, turning to face the man.

“They don’t,” Darrel explains. “I converted.”

“You…converted – you converted from Christianity to Judaism?” Blaine asks, mind completely blown.

“Mhmm. When I decided I wanted to spend my life with Avi. It was a process,” he says with a fond smile, “but it was worth it.”

“But how – you just…you just left? You just stopped believing?”

“Not at all,” Darrel says, seating himself in a recliner as Blaine looks back at the photo. “My beliefs simply changed.”

Blaine spares one last look at the picture of the Christmas tree before turning his attention to the man in the recliner.

“When? How?”

“When I met Avi.”

“I don’t…I don’t understand,” Blaine admits, sinking into one of the sofa cushions nearest Darrel.

“Oh little Blainers,” Darrel says with a smile. “I knew Rachel invited you here for a reason.”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t think I’ve ever seem someone so shocked at the site of two gay men wearing yarmulkes and holding hands before.”

Blaine shifts uncomfortably on the sofa.

“I was raised a Christian,” Darrel begins. “I believed in God. I believed in Jesus. I believed in the Bible. One day, when I was fourteen, I realized that I was gay.”

“You were that young?”

“I was. But I never told anyone, especially not my parents. I lied to all of my friends, I lied to my family, and most importantly, I tried to lie to myself. I told myself that it was a phase or I told myself that it was just the Devil trying to tempt me into hell. I did everything I could to try and be straight,” Darrel admits quietly, the clock ticking obscenely loudly on the mantle. “I have never been more miserable. I was depressed, I withdrew from my friends, I stopped going out. I stopped looking for anyone who could empathize or even sympathize with my situation because I was so, so ashamed. Eventually, though, I went to college. I got away from everyone I knew. I remember the day…I was walking out of one of my classes and someone had dropped a pen. I bent down to pick it up and when I stood up straight, standing in front of me was the most handsome guy I had ever seen.”

“Was it Avi?” Blaine asks, completely enthralled by the story.

“No,” Darrel says with a chuckle. “There were a handful of men before I met Avi. When I did, though, that was that. I was done. I stopped looking for anyone else.”

“Because you – you were in love with him?”

“Because I was completely, head over heels, crazy in love with him,” Darrel confirms. “And then I found out he was Jewish. And then I told my parents that I was gay.”

“You – all that time, they never knew?”

“I thought they didn’t. My parents suspected, though.”

“What did they say?”

“They were livid that I chose to keep it a secret for so long,” Darrel says. “But they loved me nonetheless.”

“Your parents,” Blaine pries because he’s still desperate for answers, “were they very religious?”

“Very,” Darrel nods. “Never missed a Sunday in church. Not a one. Bible thumpers, both of them.”

Blaine chews on his lip, deep in thought. Here was a man, a black man, no less, who had switched religions just to be with the man he loves, despite his own parents’ beliefs.

“I converted to Judaism for Avi,” Darrel says, as if reading Blaine’s mind. “But I changed my way of thinking for myself.”

“What do you mean?”

“As you grow, as you learn and meet new people, you realize that the world isn’t so black and white. You realize that things aren’t as set in stone as, I’m sure, they seem now. I learned that my love for another man was far less painful than the misery I was inflicting upon myself. It wasn’t worth it. It wasn’t worth the secrecy and the lies and the self hatred. So I loved another man, who gives a damn? So I was a Christian who fell in love with a Jew, what does that matter? What does matter is that I fell in love. I fell in love with a person, not a man or a woman, who loved me just as much, who made me happy, and who I respected. Love is love, Blaine. Love isn’t religion, love isn’t race or gender or status. It’s just love.”

By the time Darrel concludes his speech, Blaine is near tears and he prays that Rachel and Avi don’t walk out at this very moment.

Love is love.

And that’s what it’s about.

Isn’t it?

“It’s – it’s so hard,” Blaine says, voice cracking. “I want – but I can’t-”

Darrel immediately sits forward in his recliner, leaning toward Blaine who sits with his eyes focused on his lap and his heart in his throat.

“You want what, Blaine?”

“I want to be with him,” Blaine breathes. “I want to be with Kurt, I want to – to hold his hand and go on dates and kiss him and hold him but I – it isn’t right!”

“Nothing is right or wrong,” Darrel consoles, placing a hand on Blaine’s knee. “Nothing is right or wrong when it comes to how you feel for another person, no matter if it’s a boy or a girl.”

“But God says-”

“It isn’t about what God says, Blaine. It’s about how you feel and who you love. You can’t keep telling yourself that God wouldn’t want it this way because if he didn’t, you wouldn’t feel this way about Kurt in the first place. You wouldn’t be who you are.”

“I’m so confused,” Blaine cries, openly weeping by this point. “I want – I want Kurt but I want to keep my faith in God and-”

“Who in the world ever told you that you couldn’t have both?” Darrel asks in disbelief.

“W-what?”

“Who told you that you have to relinquish your faith in God in order to love another boy? Did your parents tell you that?”

“No,” Blaine whispers. “No, but-”

“Then don’t even think it,” Darrel says firmly but with a soft tone. “Do not ever think that you have to give up God just so you can love someone. You can have your faith in God. You keep it and you hold onto it and you cherish it if you want to. But just because you have God in your heart doesn’t mean there isn’t room for your Kurt.”

Your Kurt.

Your Kurt.

My Kurt.

The words echo in Blaine’s mind like a gunshot, reverberating off the inside of his chaotic brain.

Kurt. Precious, hilarious, sarcastic, lovely, wonderful, beautiful Kurt. Kurt, who had shown him a brand new, Technicolor world. Kurt, who had taught him so many things. Kurt, who had opened his mind to a fantastic, infinite world of possibilities.

This isn’t about Blaine and his relationship with God. That’s solid, that’s there. He knows God, he trusts in God and God will always, always be there for him as long as he has faith.

This is about Blaine and the gorgeous blue-eyed boy who had captured his everything.

“It will take time to understand. And it won’t be easy,” Darrel says after a few, quiet moments. “Nothing worth having will ever come easy.”