I’m best described as a secular Jew. I was born to Jewish parents and raised (till about age 15) in Temple. I was Bat Mitzvah, my mother was president of the Sisterhood and we never kept the Sabbath. Jewishness was an identity, equal to having hazel eyes and curly hair. We were Jewish because we were Jewish.
And then we really weren’t Jewish. But I was. I always was. Yet there was something missing. It wasn’t about belonging to a congregation or being Kosher. It was just… something.
So for my birthday, Carolyn bought me a book: Here All Along by Sarah Hurwitz. Sarah is a successful political speechwriter (she was Michelle Obama’s head speechwriter) and she was also a secular Jew. And now she isn’t. And reading her book is akin to having my own head sliced open and my thoughts spilling out.
I’ve always believed in my religion. Not the Messiah stuff because I don’t think some golden god being is going to show up and lead us to the Promised Land. Not to mention the Promised Land is no longer what it used to be and I do believe that this world is capable of being nirvana if people could only stop being people.
You know what I mean.
But I’m Jewish. And when the world seems to be going to Hell in a handbasket, I’m finding that more than ever my Jewish identity is screaming to be recognized.
Because we too were strangers in Egypt.
Because we too were victims of genocide.
Because we have been hated and blamed.
Because we have always been other yet always spoke up for others because that is what God told us to do.
Believing in God, in the tenets of what we were told, is believing in humanity and acting in the best interests of the world. We are told to fight for people, to protect people and to be kind to strangers. Because we were strangers also. Because we were abused also. Because we are chosen people (as are all who believe in one or less Gods) and chosen to be good people, moral people, shades-of-Barbra-Streisand people who need people, people.
The far right conservatives sneer and call the far left, SJW (social justice warriors). And I have to admit I think that’s a compliment, not an insult. I mean, would you rather be a warrior for social injustice?
So going back to Yom Kippur: when I was a kid we always went to the High Holy Days services. We fasted on Yom Kippur and sat in a stupor while the Torah was read. Again, the idea of atonement and real meaning of Yom Kippur wasn’t what we were there for. We were there because we were supposed to be. We were there because that’s what we all did.
This year I’m feeling like it’s what I’m supposed to do. To be empty from food and to remember that Yom Kippur is not just a day to atone for our sins but to atone and reflect on societal ills. It’s time to stop and ask is this world, is this country, is this community doing right in the eyes of God? Are we living like people who remember and honor those persecuted and do not want to see anyone experience that again?
When our President has given permission to Turkey to kill 2 million Kurds, I know my ancestors are screaming. I’m screaming. The world is screaming.
We have to atone. We have to figure this shit out. And we have to be better than this and make sure it doesn’t happen. We have to.
All the best on this Ms Lori. I'm not religious, although if push comes to shove, I'm Church of England. I did Sunday school as a kid but we moved and I didn't take it up at the next place (or any of hte places after that, of which there were many).
ReplyDeleteEvery now and then I get a hankering to be religious, probably Catholic like my grandmother, but the hankering doesn't last long. Not when you see the few who take it to a whole new level and make it seem weird. Not just the Catholics mind you, all relgions. You only have to look at the terrorists doing their shit in the name of the god they believe in - a few ruining it for the millions out there who are decent people.
I hope this Yom Kippur gives you what you need. I suspect it's more than just not eating for a day. Maybe I should bend your ear some and find out.
BIG HUGS xx