I am a Jew because by parents were Jews. In fact, my mother, as a young woman, really a girl, spent five years either in a ghetto or a concentration camp. As a child, my view of the outside world and of Jewishness was irrevocably, irredeemably defined by my parents’ experiences in what they called “DieKrieg”, the war. We did not have Good Night Moon, Winnie the Pooh or Harry Potter. Our family narrative included the story about the German guard who used my mother as target practice and shot her, and the other German, an officer, who dug the bullet out with his knife; or about how my mother and other prisoners were sent to unload a military train and the railroad car filled with boots some of them with legs still in them; or about how, on a winter morning in Poland, in the forest, my mother and others were made to remove the bodies of the hundred Hungarian girls who had perished during the night. My father’s stories were equally horrific but he would shrug, and say he had not had it as bad, since at least, he rarely starved. All these torments merely because they were born Jews.
So, I can say I am a Jew because I can be nothing else.
But that would be a facile and simplistic explanation. I was not raised in Europe. I was never in a concentration camp. I grew up on the north side of Chicago, in relatively comfortable circumstances, thanks to the hard work and sacrifice by my parents.
I grew up on the novels of Saul Bellow and Phillip Roth, whose books were peopled by all those Augie Marches, Herzogs, Humboldts, Portnoys and Zuckermans who struggled to reject and escape from European provincialism and the stigma of oppression, but yet maintained a Jewish sensibility, all of whom were dreamers, philosophers, teachers, writers and poets. My Jewish heroes were Leon Trotsky (born Lev Bronstein), the founder of the Red Army, and Bob Dylan (formerly known as Bobby Zimmerman), and Woody Allen (born Allan Koenigsberg), all rebels who stuck their fingers in the eye of the establishment, but exemplified what Jews could achieve when they were free.
But yet, I can never come to synagogue on Shabbat or during the high holidays, or for a minyan or to attend one of the Rabbi’s study sessions without being struck by how the teachings of Torah, rabbinic law and the writings of eight hundred-year old sages meld with my own convictions and beliefs about social equality, justice and respect for the environment. About the importance of kindness since we too were once strangers in Egypt. It is with this shock of recognition that I understand and feel why and how Judaism has given the moral and ethical values which are the foundation of Western civilization.
More importantly, being Jewish and continuing to study offers me the opportunity and avenue to becoming a better father, husband, lawyer and person, and helping me locate my own place in the world. Clearly, I have very much to learn. My story, and that of my children, is still unfolding.
So to me, the better statement or question is not “Why I am a Jew”, but “Why (and how) I am still in the process of becoming a Jew”.

‘I Am Jewish’
By Steven Silk, 10/9/05

Albert Einstein said that his only regret about being born Jewish was that he couldn’t choose it as his religion. So, when Daniel Pearl proudly said to his captors, ‘My father is Jewish. My mother is Jewish. I am Jewish’, he was acknowledging the same principle …..being born to Jewish parents automatically gets you into the club.

That principle applies to me as well. My father was Jewish, born in heavily Jewish Boro Park, Brooklyn; my mother was Jewish also born in Boro Park. Both came from Jewish parents who emigrated to America at the start of the twentieth century from Eastern Europe. They were Jewish, so I am Jewish. But like Einstein and Pearl implied, my ties to the religion are so powerful that they are inseparable from my life itself. I am not a person who happens to be Jewish; I am a Jew.

But, since Rabbi Siegel asked me to express my feelings about being Jewish, I have considered its many levels and dimensions…..family, tradition, language, purpose, ideology, ritual and of course, food. They are powerful and ever-evolving. Although, like any Jewish boy from Brooklyn, the constant has been idolizing Sandy Koufax

For me, being Jewish started with home….a kosher home, one in which my grandmother lit Shabbos candles every Friday night, one in which my Uncle Moe piled up the matzoh farfel high in his bowl of soup at the seder table, one that was walking distance from our shul, one in which Yiddish was spoken whenever my parents or grandmother wanted to speak about me without me understanding what they were saying. My grandmother made a ‘mean’ stuffed cabbage and my mother’s chocolate chip mandel bread was phenomenal. It was a home of rock-solid stability, one in which ‘honor thy father and mother’ didn’t need to be taught; it was an immovable pillar in the foundation of our home. Oh yes, it was a home close enough to the adjacent Roman Catholic neighborhood where people regularly threatened me because we Jews had killed Christ….or so they said.

As a teenager, my sense of jewishness grew with ritual, steadfast Orthodox adherence to ritual. I worked so hard to be the first student in our synagogue to daven SHACHARit and Musaf at his Bar Mitzvah because I wanted my grandma to be proud of me. My body swayed and shook while I prayed not because anyone taught me to do it….it was inborn. I already mentioned that our home was kosher, although we were sometimes found in Free World Chinese restaurant on Sunday (I suspect that we weren’t alone). We lit Chanukah candles without having Christmas envy. We visited the graves of deceased loved ones during Elul. So, my foundation as a Jew began at home and grew with adherence to ritual not because of ideological beliefs. During this time, G-d was perceived as far more of a judge than merciful.

While these roots ran deep, they evolved as I grew older and came to better understand the ideology of Judaism. Somehow, without much Biblical teaching, my beliefs were one with the Torah. For example, how could others look at the story of Adam and Eve as the fall of man; it seemed clear that we were never meant to be perfect and that this was a story of accountability. ‘Our’ miracles were believable; ‘their’ miracles were not. How could someone be absolved of his sins solely by believing in some religious figure without any apology or compensation to the person who was wronged? These beliefs were not taught; they were inborn.

But Judaism extends beyond beliefs; as a Jew, I am part of a broader community with a shared experience. When we renovated my former temple in New Jersey, we raised the money, rebuilt our synagogue and doubled its size….Judaism had taken on an important added dimension of community. When I came to Hebrew National eight years ago, I believed that G-d had brought me there for a purpose. We were bringing an appreciation of kosher to a broad audience. Did I kvell when consumers, many of whom were not Jewish, expressed that ‘kosher’ meant ‘better.’ But the most powerful moment occurred when I stood in the cantor’s box at the Eldridge Street synagogue on the lower east side. As my feet fit in the imprints in the wooden floor made by those that had come before me, I could feel their presence, the same presence that I feel each and every Kol Nidre night. While I did not have any relatives killed in the Holocaust, when I see the pictures, the people that I see are my family, my grandparents, my brothers and sisters. My sense of ‘jewishness’ is linked to all of those Jewish souls – past and present.

Two years ago, Linda’s cousin, a rabbi, spoke of the essential role of studying Torah. At the same time, Rabbi Siegel suggested that I enroll in the Melton course. I re-examined all of those stories that I knew. I rethought the ideology. My impression of G-d evolved from one that was to be feared to an almighty, merciful one. This has taught me some critical lessons, given me the necessary gifts to make a difference and enabled me to have the life that I have. I built a new, more mature understanding of the essential holiness of Torah, of family, of marriage, of procreation and of home. I came to accept ‘hineni’ as my favorite word in the Hebrew language…..whether it was Rabbi Siegel or the JUF or the Almighty who was asking, it was my responsibility and privilege to say ‘here I am.’ There is no wonder that the past three years of my life with Linda, with the birth of Gabriel, with my reunion with my son Alex, with my new ‘family’ at Anshe Emet and with my higher relationship with G-d have been my most redeeming, fulfilling and peaceful.

So, at birth, I was Jewish….technically. As a teenager, my bonds to Judaism grew as I observed Jewish rituals. As a young adult, I came to appreciate that I was part of something that was far larger than I could comprehend. And today, as my learning continues, I have a deeper, more ideologically aligned understanding. Tomorrow, I look to evolve to a new, deeper place. Of course, I am a Jew.

Thank you. Shanah Tovah!

What Being Jewish Means to Me – Joan Porat

Rabbi Siegel gave me an almost impossible task when he asked me to speak tonight (Kol Nidre). It was not the subject, “What Daniel Pearl’s last words, ‘I am Jewish,’ mean to me.” It was the request that I condense it to just a few minutes. How can any Jewish person address any topic in so few words, no less one as challenging as this?

So I put aside my regular routine, accepted phone calls only from my children and 3-year-old grandchild because, part of being Jewish to me, means being willing to listen to your children regardless of the hour or subject. I spent the rest of the time thinking and writing. So, Rabbi, here is chapter one:

I remember growing up in a predominantly Catholic town. I felt and was different. I went to Hebrew school, missed classes on Jewish holidays, ate matzo while reading from a pamphlet covered with ads for Maxwell House coffee, and celebrated all Jewish occasions with brisket, nova or kugel; while THEY ate pork chops and went to catechism class with their rosary beads, sang Christmas carols joyfully in the school assemblies, and got new shoes for Easter. WE knew – and THEY knew -- who was Jewish!
In the past, traditional religious and ethnic behaviors defined who was a Jew. Today, in the land of free choice, more Jews are choosing more individualistic, highly personalized ways to relate to their identity. Some have chosen the option to ignore it altogether.

I was lucky to have a father who viewed Judaism as a spiritual and intellectual gift to be passed on to his children. As a psychologist, he believed it was healthy to affirm one’s identity, and a mistake to deny it or ignore it.

So what does being Jewish mean today, to me?
To me, we are distinctive as a people because of our ideas. For example:
The belief that each human is made in the image of God; and that it is a mitzvah to incorporate acts of kindness into my daily life.
The belief that our God is a God of justice and compassion; and that the prophets who harangued the ancient Israelites about neglecting their poor and powerless, must be listened to in our own society today.
For me, it is recognizing that just as there is more than one way to interpret Torah, there is more than one way to be Jewish.
It is to be knowledgeable about our ideas and traditions, and to pass these along to future generations. It’s also understanding that it wouldn’t hurt to mix this with a little kugel, and brisket, othe side.
To be Jewish is to walk the streets of Tel Aviv, knowing that I’m among my people – no matter how diverse – and to understand that my support of the Jewish state is not an option.
For many years I worked as a journalist for the Jewish press. To be Jewish means that what happened to Daniel Pearl could happen to me – or to you.

Less than a week ago, when I agreed to speak to the Congregation, I honestly didn’t know what I would say about being Jewish. I could have decided to talk at great length about my journey to Judaism. But in keeping with the spirit of the phrase, “I am a Jew,” I thought it best to give you insight into how I think about Judaism and my identity as a Jew today. I was introduced to Judaism through my husband, David, and I have embraced it because it provides me with a comprehensive spiritual blueprint for my life. For me, the central elements of Judaism are Mitzvot, prayer, study, the pursuit of justice, and an embrace of struggle and uncertainty. You might have noticed that I have omitted an element that many other Jews probably feel is crucial to their identity…community. At this point in my development as a Jew, community falls into the category of struggle, as I will explain later. But first, Mitzvot.

I am a Jew and therefore I am commanded. I am commanded to observe Kashrut, Shabbat and Holidays. I love the idea of Kashrut, of transforming an everyday activity like eating into a vehicle for bringing holiness into my life. I knew I was a Jew the day I passed up my favorite food at a dinner party…And those crabcakes looked really good. But I don’t regret giving them up. Each time I sit down to eat, I consider how I am maintaining my relationship with God. I cherish Shabbat. Each week, I mark the separation of weekday from holy day by lighting candles and enjoying a home-cooked meal. I look forward to deepening my Shabbat observance until the point that it is truly a full day of rest for me.

By observing these Mitzvot and engaging in these ritual practices, I experience what Rabbi David Wolpe calls the “intangible,” meaning that which I cannot see but that connects me to God, to those around me, and to all of creation. For me, this connection is the essence of spirituality, and observance of Mitzvot is one of my primary ways of tapping into it. The discipline of Mitzvot and symbolism of Jewish ritual enhance my awareness of the spiritual within me and my connection to God and God’s creation.

I am a Jew therefore I pray. And since so much of our prayers today have to do with confession, I’ll make another one to all of you. I don’t speak Hebrew. I can’t even read it that well. And the truth is, it’s hard to keep up, moving back and forth between transliteration, translation, and Hebrew.

For me, the essence of prayer is communication with God. Presently, I communicate with God more with the “meditations of my heart” than with the “words of my mouth.” According to David Ariel prayer in Judaism is a means of reinforcing our collective spiritual beliefs. It also affirms one’s Jewishness in a social context, and contributes to the transformation of routine consciousness through singing, the use of the Hebrew language and ritual objects. In short, there are community and transcendent aspects to prayer that I have yet to fully experience. In November, I’ll begin formal lessons in reading Hebrew and I look forward to discovering how my prayer experience will evolve over time. And the fact that I’ll be taking that class brings me to the next element of my Jewish life…

I am a Jew therefore I study. As an educator by training, I have a deep appreciation for the power of learning, and undoubtedly there is a lot to learn in Judaism. But for me, study is not blind acceptance of doctrine. I challenge what I learn. I question it, just as the Rabbis did in the Talmud. Rabbi Lawrence Kushner said that the “divine utterance is filled with infinite meaning. It has as many interpretations as there are people to hear it.” So as long as I am engaged in a relationship with Torah, I will continue to grow with our tradition, while discovering my own personal meaning of the “divine utterance”.

I am a Jew therefore I seek justice. The pursuit of justice has been a lifelong endeavor for me. And as a woman, an African-American, and a Jew, I have inherited a triple history of oppression. I can bear witness to the injustices that humanity is capable of and being Jewish makes fighting back not only a commitment, but also a commandment. I have to recognize and combat injustice wherever I see it, in all of its forms, in my personal and professional life. We can all agree that strains of distrust, and yes, hatred, permeate our society as a whole and divide Americans today.

I am a Jew and therefore I struggle. And my struggles touch all of the other four elements I have already mentioned. I struggle to make sure that my performance of ritual does not become so routinized that it becomes passive habit rather than a conscious spiritual act. I struggle with prayer in Hebrew.

But I also struggle with other aspects of Judaism too, including the role of the Jewish Community in the World and MY role within the Jewish community. Specifically, I have a lot of difficulty with what it means to be chosen – how it is NOT supposed to mean being better than others, like my non-Jewish family whom I love. Instead, being chosen means being called to be better than one currently is and to be in a covenant with God to improve the world. It’s taken me some time to get to this point of reconciliation with the idea of choseness. And I am sometimes uncertain that this concept of choseness is widely embraced. As I have prayed during these services on Yom Kippur and as I pray each day, I will continue to ask God’s favor not only on the people Israel but also on all the world’s nations.

I struggle with my role in this community. I see so much beauty in the connectedness that Jewish rituals provide, that the observance of Holidays brings to the Jewish community worldwide. It’s astounding that in every corner of the world today, Jews are atoning for our collective sins. But sometimes I feel like an outsider in the Jewish community. Earlier this year, in this very room, a world-renowned Rabbi and scholar essentially denied me an identity as a Jew with a derogatory remark that questioned the legitimacy of Black Women as Jewish. I have witnessed other Jews by Choice receive the compliment that they look Jewish. What does “looking Jewish” mean for a Jew like me and other Jews of Color in America? I know that not looking Jewish in this synagogue occasionally means receiving curious, incredulous or even disapproving stares in Shul. For one Jew by Choice, I know it can even mean being singled out and questioned in the Anshe Emet parking lot because it was assumed that that person didn’t belong here. In the American consciousness, being Jewish and being Black are not easily reconciled.

And having an American consciousness myself, I must struggle to maintain my dual identity as an African-American and a Jew. At this point, I’m still working on this. Will these identities battle within me as they did for the adolescent Rebecca Walker, daughter of author Alice Walker and Mel Leventhal? Will I find personal harmony as the author and activist Julius Lester did? At my recent wedding, I was able to find a balance and incorporate elements of my African heritage into a fully Halachic Jewish ceremony, but what will the future hold for me and, God willing, for the children I hope to have?

Today, I am Jew, with some knowledge but with recognition of my need and desire to learn more. I am a Jew who embraces reasoned study and impassioned action. I am a Jew firmly committed in a relationship with God but struggling to find my place within the Jewish community. I am a Jew with some answers, but also with many questions.

Yom Kippur 5766
Nancy J. Labbie
I See Wonder in Judaism

Abraham Joshua Heschel used the terms “radical amazement,” “awe,” and “ wonder” to describe a way of looking at the world – an intuition for the dignity of all things – a sense that the simple and the ordinary also stand for something supreme. A way of thinking, feeling, acting, living -- compatible with our being a likeness of God. A way -- Heschel said -- to BE what one IS. This way of seeing beyond the routinized, beyond the predictable is -- for me -- the essence of Judaism.

I see wonder in a Judaism founded on a radical and revolutionary relationship. When Abraham and God engage in a dialogue regarding the possibility of saving innocent souls in Sodom, we see the Creator of the Universe inviting the first Jew to join a moral partnership! A partnership based in righteousness and justice. Abraham -- who acknowledges that he is “but dust and ashes”-- nevertheless boldly stands up for the ideals of righteousness and justice. “Shall not the Judge of all the Earth deal justly?” Abraham asks God. And so begins the tradition of righteous protest in defense of the oppressed. And so is announced the mission of the Jewish people to do what is right and just in God’s eyes.

I see wonder in a Judaism in which the Master of the Universe seeks man. After the people of Israel had been led out of Egypt and slavery, God ordered them to build for Him a tabernacle – a dwelling. As scriptures say elsewhere, the heavens themselves cannot contain God – so why this order to man to make a little tent? Because the PEOPLE must create the space. Only then can God fill it. Jewish spiritual life as a practice has everything to do with opening one’s self up – to observance, to action, to difference, to pluralism, to the equality of all human beings, to tradition and change. As Heschel said: To BE is to STAND FOR.

I see wonder in a Judaism which dares you to declare a position. What do YOU stand for?

I see wonder in a Judaism in which all human life-- created in God’s image -- is unique, equal, and potentially holy. Man – born in moral neutrality – is given the freedom to opt for spiritual life or death. Adam is the father of all mankind and therefore no person can say: ” My father is greater than your father.” But, even though Adam is the father of all mankind, no two human beings are identical; each is unique. The Talmud explains that if a witness lies and a defendant is sentenced to death—the witness has killed not just the defendant but an entire world. So is every witness in a capital case warned. According to Rashi, we are all identical twins: Every king has a brother who is a criminal and every criminal has a brother who is a king. The Jerusalem Talmud tells the story of a caravan of Jews. Strangers order them to hand over one person or they will kill them all. The Talmud teaches that it is better that all be killed because the lives of all are equal – and because the life of any one individual is equal to the lives of the entire group.

I see wonder in a Judaism where the Biblical word for “bloodshed” denotes both murder and humiliation. Where evil speech is acknowledged to degrade man’s innate sanctity. Where our Sages teach that gossip and slander kill the person who speaks it, the person who listens to it and the person about whom it is spoken. Where the most important prayer in the Siddur asks God to guard our tongues from evil and our lips from speaking falsehood – and where we petition God to find favor in the words of our mouths.

I see wonder in a Judaism which reflects a steadfast tradition of moral self-criticism. No other culture has canonized its prophet-critics, holding itself accountable to the highest moral standards. Judaism chose to leave its moral preachings to posterity ---indeed, the phrase “the peace and justice of the Jewish prophets” was included in the Declaration of Independence of the State of Israel.

I see wonder in a Judaism which is inclusive and non-parochial. Any non-Jew who observes the seven Noahide laws is guaranteed a reward in the World to Come. The Torah commands us not once but 24 times to love the stranger in our midst. “A single justice shall be for you and for the stranger who dwells with you” commands God. Jews believe that the Messiah Himself will descend from the lineage of Ruth, a Moabite woman who converted to Judaism. Indeed, the prophetic ideal is not isolation – but the gathering of all nations from the four corners of the world. No nation is unworthy of joining the kingdom of God over all the earth.

I see wonder in a Judaism in which human beings have immense power and responsibility. Where prayer and religious observance can bring God into the world. Where worship expands the presence of God in the world. Where man is responsible to be God’s partner in redeeming the world. I see wonder in a Judaism where the rituals recall the historical events of the Jewish people – while they contemporaneously create original acts of worship.

I see wonder in a Judaism which is a COMMUNAL response to Sinai and which creates Two Commanding Voices – God and the Community.

I SEE WONDER IN JUDAISM