Who Are You - I am Jewish
365 years ago,
in September 1654, shortly before Rosh Hashanah, 23 Jews arrived in New
Amsterdam, which is now New York. They were members of the Sephardic
Jewish community in the Netherlands, many of whom had fled from Spain and
Portugal during the Inquisition and later expulsion. They had been
living in Recife, Brazil, which was a Dutch Colony, until it came under
Portuguese control and they had to leave. They came to New Amsterdam
seeking a place where they could live and be themselves. They were
seeking a home that would accept them for who they were and allow them to
worship in peace. They were seeking a home where they could
contribute and help build a nation and be accepted as Jews.
Did you realize
that there were Jews in America before it was officially the United States of
America? Had you thought about the reality that the
first Jews in America were Spanish and Portuguese speaking Sephardic Jews, not
the traditional Ashkenazic immigrants we think of? In fact, Sherith
Israel, known as the Spanish
Portuguese
From
1654 through today, America has been a haven, a golden Medina, golden land for
Jews who sought refuge on her shores. Our ancestors came here
seeking a place that would allow them to live in freedom as Jews. They
came here, seeking to make a better life for themselves and their families -
whether escaping the Russian pogroms and the Nazis, or seeking refuge after the
destruction of the Holocaust, to finding a home after years of living behind
the Iron curtain.
Has it always
been easy? No. We Jews understand history has a funny way
of repeating itself. The 23 who arrived in 1654, faced anti-Semitism
upon their arrival, as Governor Stuyvesant was known to discriminate against
anyone whose religion was different than his. But he was overruled
by those above him at the Dutch West India Company, who oversaw New Amsterdam,
as the Dutch were known for being tolerant of all faiths. And later,
as more Jews began to arrive, they were not always welcomed with open arms, but
when they found communities that would allow them to live and to be Jewish,
they settled and became part of the fabric of that community. And,
so began the history of the Jewish community in the United States.
We have had our
experiences of quotas, of being kept out of neighborhoods, country clubs, of
dealing with signs that said “No Jews allowed,” yet today, as Alan
Dershowitz points out, “American Jews have achieved everything we ever wanted:
acceptance, influence, affluence, and equality.” And, until the
recent uptick in Antisemitism, I would venture to guess that most American Jews
had never felt more secure, more accepted, than at any time in our history. America
has been good for us. And yet, I worry. I worry that becoming wholly
American has meant that we have lost part of our Jewish identity. That daily
What do I mean? How
many of us truly think about being Jewish daily
Is it first?
Is it last?
Does it even
make your list?
When you say to someone,
“I am Jewish,” what does that mean?
Can you articulate it?
I know that for some of you, especially those in the greatest generation,
being Jewish likely was the center of who you were. Out of
necessity, you lived in solely Jewish communities, you may have lived with
multiple generations in your home, socialized with Jews, and likely went to
school with mostly Jews. For those in the baby boomer
Honestly, I worry that some of our kids, let alone our adults, think of
Judaism as an activity, not an identity. When the activity is over, there is no
need for a synagogue. There is a huge difference between being able to declare
“I am Jewish” and saying “I have bar mitzvah Torah .
But
I worry. I worry that with the challenges that Jews face in America
today with the rise of Antisemitism - that we, the American Jewish community
will either try to hide our Jewish identity and not share it with anyone else
for fear of attack, or that we’ll come to resent our Jewish identity, seeing it
merely as a burden, as something that causes us struggle and strife as opposed
to seeing it as a part of ourselves - something that links us to
thousands of years and many generations of a small but mighty people, who have
remained steadfast in their love of and connection with Torah, and who have
survived despite all odds.
In 2002, Jewish journalist Daniel Pearl was brutally murdered by
militants in Pakistan. Despite this horrific crime against humanity, in the
last minutes before his death, the last words that he spoke, provided a moment
of hope and peace for his family.. He said, “My father is
Jewish, my mother is Jewish, I am Jewish”. He wasn’t forced to
say these words. In fact, he could have said, I am American, I am a
journalist, I am a son, but instead he said, “I am Jewish.”
What
we later learned from Daniel Pearl’s family is that these were words of hope
and words of peace. While he never concealed his Jewish identity,
Daniel Pearl considered himself a secular Jew, and yet, in his last moment, his
father believes, that by declaring “I am Jewish,” he understood the power of
his identity and that with it, in those last moments he knew he was not alone,
as he connected himself with the many, many generations of Jews who came before
him.
Daniel
Pearl’s last words, spoken almost 2 decades ago, are still so powerful today. They
are words that call on
This is our
challenge this year - to think about, I mean truly think about what it means
when you say, “I am Jewish.” What is behind it? What
words do you use to follow that statement? How do you describe what
being Jewish means, to someone else?
Many of us might start a description of I am Jewish, and then very quickly
follow with BUT .
This past week, I was cleaning out my desk (High Holiday preparation
procrastination is great for getting things cleaned) and I came across a letter
that my grandfather wrote to me in 1994. I had asked him to share
with me what he could about his side of the family.
Amazingly, here is one of the
paragraphs he wrote. “I was
born and raised as an Orthodox Jew and while I have drifted far from orthodoxy
and in fact do not practice according to any of the branches of Judaism, I am
and have always professed to be a Jew.” Jerome Jacobson
Powerful words, and
yet today, I want to know more. I want to know why he always
professed to be a Jew. What was it about being a Jew that was such
an important part of his identity, that even when he let go of religious
practice, he still identified as Jewish? Was it family? A set of
values? Was it shared history and tradition? These are
questions that I will never know his answer to, but they are questions, I think
are important for each one of us to think about and answer for ourselves with
regard to our own statement of why we are Jewish.
When I think about
when I say, “I am Jewish,” here is what initially comes to mind.
I am Jewish and feel I received a
great foundation of knowledge because my mother never gave in when we
complained about religious school or Hebrew school. She made us
continue through confirmation
I am Jewish because of summer camp, youth group, and the many teachers,
counselors, rabbis and cantors who taught me instilled in me a passion for
Jewish knowledge - from Torah midrash
I am Jewish because I love that Judaism doesn’t give me the answer or
require a doctrine of belief, but instead provides me with multiple answers,
which call on me to think for myself about what I believe, because Judaism
doesn’t demand that my belief in God match anyone else’s and that my belief and
relationship with God can ebb and flow throughout my life.
I am Jewish because to be a Jew means to struggle and wrestle with ideas. It
means being able to hold on to the tension that comes when we wrestle and
struggle with what sometimes feels like competing ideas. But Judaism
allows me to hold onto both and find some sense of truth.
I am Jewish because Judaism sees no conflict between being a Jew and
being an American. Because for Jews, particularism and universalism
I am Jewish because I love everything about being Jewish. From
our shared history, to the State of Israel, from the beautiful melodies of our
past and present, to challenging myself to bake challah people
Over the course of
this next year, together, we are going to explore what it means to us, individually,
and collectively, to be Jewish. There will be some learning
opportunities to explore this topic. There will be a congregational
book read. Together we’ll read and discuss the book, I am
Jewish, which is a collection of personal reflections that were inspired by
Daniel Pearl’s last words. This collection of writings is amazing -
from kids, to world leaders, to actors and media personalities, to scientists,
rabbis, and others. It is truly an inspiring book. There
are some copies in our library, and you can find it on Amazon.
I also invite you
to engage with our community this year, as you explore what it means to say, I
am Jewish. Just look in
And, we will be
launching our own UH “I am Jewish” personal reflection campaign. In
the next few weeks, you will receive from us an invitation to write your own
personal reflection on what it means to say, “I am Jewish.” From
adults, to
And for those of
you in our communal family today who are not Jewish, I welcome your answers too
to .
Overwhelming? Perhaps. Yet,
when we stop and give it some thought, we might find it’s easier than we think.
We know that being Jewish isn’t easy,
especially today. But it can be rewarding and fulfilling and
powerful and comforting and everything in between. The first Jews
from Recife didn’t have it easy, but they, along with the subsequent
generations provided the foundations upon which our Judaism is predicated today. They
fought for rights, for equality, for peace. And now it is up to us
to continue that path. We must pave
the way for future generations to know what it is we mean when we say, We Are
Jewish. What is the message that you want to preserve for those who
come after you?
I conclude with a quote from Anne
Frank, who sacrificed so much yet continued to say, I am Jewish,
“Who knows,
maybe our religion will teach the world and all the people in it about
goodness, and that's the reason, the only reason, we have to suffer. We
can never just be Dutch, or just English, or whatever; we will always be Jews
as well. And we'll have to keep on being Jews, but then, we'll want to be.”
Shanah Tovah!
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