Final Morocco Reflection

Written May/June 2014, never posted. 

In our final reflection time together as a group, one of our group members spoke about how much she appreciated our group dynamic and our interactions with members of the Moroccan Jewish community, saying that “we all understand what it means to be Jewish.” This comment struck me, in somewhat of a humorous way, as I thought about the fact that each one of us had a completely different definition about what it meant to be Jewish. We have differing beliefs, practices, values, backgrounds, cultures, and even languages. And yet, there is no denying that we felt a sense of commonality with each other and with the Moroccan Jews who we met. I suppose that we would call this sense of commonality “Jewish Peoplehood”, but what does that mean? What are the elements that make up Jewish peoplehood? What is the thing that makes X% of American Jews claim that they are proud to be Jewish, while simultaneously holding vastly different ideas about what being Jewish actually means?

The answer that comes to mind, though it is morbid and I’m not sure that I like it, is that when I meet another Jew, even if that person is completely different from me on every level, there is a voice inside of me that says: if someone wanted to kill this person because they are Jewish, they would want to kill me too. History has proven this: those who have persecuted the Jewish people have done so without regard for how assimilated or observant we were. In the concentration camps, Chassidic rabbis and wealthy secular business men worked and died next to one another- it did not matter.

I have to admit, I find it disturbing. Have Jewish peoplehood and the concept of common Jewish identity been established and defined by our enemies? I want to answer: No! What about the biblical notion of B’nei Israel. From the times of the Torah, the ancient Israelites identified themselves as a separate, different people. They were different because of their belief in only one God, their rituals and practices related to cleanliness and purity, and their moral behaviors. Now, however, we no longer share common beliefs or rituals or practices or behaviors, and I can’t help but feel that what defines us as a people is merely the fact that our enemies would hate each one of us equally. And as we move further and further away from the tragedies of the pogroms and the Holocaust, how many Jews will continue to feel the unifying force of that common threat? What happens to Jewish peoplehood and common Jewish identity when we are left to define it for ourselves?

Luckily, I am far from the first person to ask these questions, and I know that Jewish organizations throughout the country are working to answer them. Personally, I believe that the answer starts with education. Increased Jewish literacy may not produce more devout or observant Jews, but it will give us a common language and toolkit with which to approach the conversations about who we are and what defines us.