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Yisrael
Yisrael. Such a beautiful word. I know this is going
to be the most difficult essay to write. Not because I do not know what
to say, or I do not know what my feelings are, but because I try to
speak of them rationally and I cannot. How can I speak of the depth
of my love for and connection to a people I was not born to? Yisrael,
the Jews, are my family, my people, the people my soulloves--and this
is something I find difficult to explain, why I feel this way. After
all, I have family that I love dearly, and I know I belong to them,
that I am of them, in every sense. But at the same time I know--I know--I
must be a Jew.
I have never felt that I was coming to something new
to me, that I was among strangers here (except in the most literal sense:
people I hadn't met before). I cannot explain it other than to say that
when I am here, when I am with other Jews, I feel that my soul is home,
that in my deepest sense of self, I am with family. For this reason,
I have always found it difficult to think of myself as not Jewish. Oh,
I understood perfectly well that there were things I could not do, and
responsibilities I did not have. I understood in my mind that references
to goyim referred to me-¬but I couldn't feel it. I just felt Jewish.
Sometimes, in my more mystical moments, I think I must
have been a Jew before, and it is finally time for me to return to my
people. And Iwonder, what happened, that I was cut off, exiled from
my people?
Hashem, what was my sin? And this sense of exile, of being cut off,
is
very painful. And this sense of an exile finally coming to an end is
also very joyful.
Do I believe the Jews are chosen? Yes, I do. I believe
G-d chose-¬chooses--the Jewish People to be the representatives
of the Holy One's Presence, of G-d's service, in this world. To be the
ones to declare, always, Hashem is G-d, Hashem is One. To be a light
to all, to speak as our prophets did, of the justice and loving kindness
that this One desires of all of us. Why? G-d did not choose us because
we are better or mightier or bigger or smarter
or more anything--but because G!d loves us. And more importantly, we
chose--we continue to choose--G!d. Whether or not we were chosen by
G-d is ultimately secondary to the fact that we choose G!d! To me, this
is the most wonderful thing: not that the Jews were chosen by G!d, but
that we always, in every generation, choose G-d, again and again and
again.
Part of being a member of any family is knowing your
responsibilities, and living up to them. Eretz Yisrael--how can I say
it? There is so much pain now, at this time, when I think of her. I
feel so fiercely protective, I must support Israel--if we don't who
will? But at the same time I am deeply saddened. I do not know what
can be done, what must be done. All I know to do is to pray for Medinat
Yisrael, to declare my support for her, to pray constantly for peace
between "the sons of Yitzhak and the sons of Ishmael", to
look always for the truth.
And as to my responsibilities to my synagogue--this
is easier. I must be a contributing member of my shul. (This first of
all, of course, means I should be a member.) To contribute to its spiritual
life by participating in services--to leyn Torah when Torah readers
are needed, to be able to help out ritually when help is needed--to
run to do the mitzvah! To participate in the communal life of the shul
by volunteering. (I am uncertain with what-¬
but I do know that there is no shortage of places and ways.)
Above all, I have a responsibility, not only to my synagogue
community, but to my worldwide Jewish community: to be a gitel Yid (my
Yiddish is nonexistent--I hope I said that correctly). To be a good
Jew. To be committed to Torah study and tikkun olam. To know --and to
speak of-¬Jews everywhere as my brothers and sisters--my mishpacha--and
to never turn away from them. To not keep my love for Judaism, of Yiddishkeit,
within myself, but to share, to teach others. These are not only my
responsibilities, but my wishes, my hopes, my joys.
I saved the most difficult things for the end. Anti-Semitism.
Anti¬Semitism is, so I have heard, actually a word made up by an
anti-Semite because he thought "Jew-hatred" sounded ugly;
he wanted to dress up his prejudice, make it sound
rational and reasonable. But it is still Jew-hating, and it is ugly
and irrational and horrific and frightening--and has led to the most
horrific and ugly and evil (I do not use that word lightly) and terrifying
events in history. I do not like to think of it, but we must think of
it, and it is a question that I think every convert must ask: Why do
we want to be a part of a people that have faced such hatred? I don't
know--for me, there is no answer to this. I am not becoming a Jew in
spite of anti-Semitism, nor because of it--but with it. Understanding
that this is part of who I will be--that fighting it must be part of
who I will be, too. It is a terrifying and saddening thing, to know
that you are hated, but the gift of being who you are, of being strong
enough to live as G-d meant for you to live: this gift is far, far greater.
Whenever I think of my relationship with the Jewish
people, I think of a poem written by Franta Bass, who died-was murdered--in
Auschwitz in 1944, at the age of fourteen. It reads:
I am a Jew and will be a Jew forever.
Even if I should die from hunger,
never willI submit.I will always fight for my people, on my honor.
I will never be ashamed of them, I give my word.
I am proud of my people,
how dignified they are.
Even though I am suppressed,
I will always come back to life.