This is my first time in Israel, and being an American Reform Jew, I’ve heard a lot about the culture here. Good and bad, from NFTY in Israel participants, community members, random strangers, various rabbis, and lots of other people. As controversial as the topic of Israel is today, everyone seems to have an opinion, not only of the politics, but the culture as well. For example, I knew to watch out for the yogurt (it’s delicious, but not as healthy as it seems). Some things don’t surprise me, like the superior quality of the falafels. One thing in particular, however, did surprise me.
During an interview I had before the program, I was asked questions about what makes a person Jewish. I thought about Jewish identity and all the topics youth movements love, but eventually I ended up talking about things like regularly attending Kabbalat Shabbat services and observing holidays at temple with the community, among others. When I came to Israel, I expected it to be the norm to attend services and that everyone would be a bar/bat mitzvah. I was so wrong. Here, the question is: do you keep Shabbat? From what I’ve experienced, attending Shabbat services does not “count.” Yes, I drive on Shabbat, I text and go online and if I have homework, I’ll do it on Shabbat. I also don’t keep kosher, which surprises most Israelis. But the things we do or consider “Jewish” are completely different.
Last Friday, I went to my host family’s house for dinner. They said the prayers for the wine and hallah before eating, but didn’t attend services. They didn’t do any of the traditional prayers or traditions, but they spent the whole evening together, not in front of the TV, but just being together. Their version of Shabbat is one hundred percent reversed from mine back home. I would go to Shabbat services at my temple, either with a few family members or alone, and then go home, usually eating again with a few members or alone. Shabbat is no different than any other night at our house, whether that’s because of my parent’s jobs or our schedules or society or our Jewish community or something else entirely, I don’t know. I do know that this is the way I acknowledge and celebrate Shabbat.
So which version is the ‘more Jewish’ way? Which one is better for Jews?
When they were asking me about how I lived ‘Jewishly’ at home, it came up that I had a bat mitzvah, which astounded them. My host sister didn’t have one, and they were impressed that I actually studied and went through the whole process despite being a girl. It was also surprising for them that my parents are in an inter-religious marriage, which is normal, if not more common, where I am from. So many things that we each considered ‘normal Judaism’ were challenged by the other’s way of life.
Today, we had a class with a woman who grew up in Israel and leads youth programs here, but has also spent considerable time in other countries. She asked us what our first Jewish memories were. I thought of Friday night services with my family, going out to ice cream after, and then begging my parents to carry me in from the car because I was too tired to walk. I thought of loathing Sunday School because I had to wake up early on a weekend, but forgetting all about that and loving it while I was there.
The woman, Hila, grew up in Israel and lived a Jewish life from birth. Her first ‘Jewish’ memory is from when she was 23 years old. How can you live and grow up in Israel without having a Jewish experience? We watched a YouTube clip of a man who was born in South Africa and moved to Israel when he graduated high school. He was on a kibbutz raising pigs and asked, “how is raising pigs Jewish?” Someone answered him, “You’re in Israel, you don’t need to be Jewish anymore.”
In some ways, this is true. You don’t have to, ‘be,’ Jewish, you just are. Whether you want to or not, you’ll end up keeping Shabbat much more than anywhere else. Schools close early on Fridays, buses don’t run, stores close. It is extremely difficult to find a restaurant that is not kosher. A non-Jew here might be considered ‘more Jewish’ than a Diaspora Jew somewhere else, just because of the societal norms he or she is forced to practice.
On the other hand, does having to make a conscious choice to apply something make it more meaningful? I think that this is the basis for a lot of Reform Judaism: choice through education. I choose to not work on Shabbat versus school letting out early for everyone. Someone can choose to keep kosher rather than just eating what is fed to him or her, thankful that it happens to be kosher. This raises a lot of questions. First, would an Israeli who moved somewhere else still practice the same traditions that were handed to them before? Would they do more, less, or stay the same? Does it mean more that an entire country acts as a community, choosing the same beliefs and traditions, or that an individual chooses it for himself or herself? Because I choose to attend Shabbat services, does that make me more Jewish than someone whose family forces them to go? Does choosing to work on Shabbat make me less Jewish than someone whose work does not operate on Shabbat?
And, on this line of thought, what makes something more or less Jewish? I had to actively try to be Jewish. It was not easy. I was a teenager and I was different; I celebrated different holidays than everyone else, missed school and crucial social events, I was asked, “do you speak Jewish?” more times than I can count, and I’ve been made fun of and I’ve been the butt of vicious jokes. I had to get in my car and drive to services and Sunday School and Hebrew School and holiday celebrations and youth group meetings. It wasn’t just down the street; it required a serious time commitment (a half an hour drive both to and from). It was hard. It meant devotion and passion. Being Jewish, whatever your definition, in America is not just something that happens, you have to actively work for it.
In Israel, however, Jewish-ness is hard to avoid. Even if you tried, you couldn’t completely hide from it. You can either live like everyone else, Jewishly, or you can actively try not to conform.
So which is better? Which way is more preferable for the future of Judaism? Does it differ by sect? Should it? Which way is more Jewish than the other way? Can you be more Jewish than someone else? Whose decision is it? Mine? Yours? The person in question’s? The Prime Minister’s? G-d’s? How do we, as a religion, a people, a family, and a kehilah kedosha, choose?
The easy answer is to pick one or the other. But let’s face it, even if we do, not much will change. Obviously the places with higher concentrated amounts of Jews will create a societal norm for others to end up following later on, and the ones in smaller populations will end up paving their own original path over and over again.
Another answer would be to make an honest effort to create a worldwide balance between the two. This might even be more difficult, because it requires a universal agreement on what needs to be observed and what is optional. Of course, some would argue that all are required and some would argue that all is optional.
The third answer is to leave it as it is. Let geography and local society choose. My community decided for me what I did and did not have to do. By chance, I ended up having to do a lot more to ‘be Jewish’ than the average Israeli, who ended up living a more ‘traditional Jewish life’ than I did.
So really, there is no solution. There might not even be a problem. But it does affect my life and my friend’s lives and the lives of Jews everywhere, whether they live in Germany or Spain or Argentina or Ecuador or USA or Israel. And we can choose to segregate and discriminate each other based on what we see, or we can embrace the differences and learn from each other. Personally, I hope we choose to use this as an opportunity to bring us together. We may be different, but we can still accept and respect one another. In the YouTube video about the South African man who moved to Israel and raised pigs, the man tells a short tale of just before he left for Israel. His dad woke him up and said, “good-bye!” He asked, “Where are you going, dad?” And his dad replied, “I’m not going anywhere, you are.” So he asked, “Well, dad, where am I going?” The answer his dad gave him was this: “You’re a Jewish youth and there’s a Jewish state over there. Get going.” Well, I’m a Jewish youth, and here’s a Jewish state. Let’s see what I make happen.
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