BEIT SHEAN YOUNG LEADER REFLECTS ON TRIP TO CLEVELAND
Cleveland, March 18, 1999
.... "No one in the world can understand an Israeli mother who sends (sends? As if I had a choice ...) her son to the army," writes Miri Davidowitz, who is in a tough situation, far from her home and her son. Miri, a Gil-Oz employee and resident of Beit Shean who defines herself as "non-religious," came to Cleveland in a Jewish Agency Partnership 2000 Young Leadership delegation. Her unprecedented experiences inspired soul-searching regarding her Judaism and identity as she compares Judaism in the United States and Israel. This is the story of a motherly-Israeli-Jewish mission in Cleveland.
Today, my first-born son Erez is going to be inducted into the IDF, while I am here in Cleveland. This is a difficult and troublesome day, but I am surrounded by much love and support from the Israeli and American groups alike. It is this support and understanding that I wish to share with readers. No one in the world can understand an Israeli mother who sends (sends? As if I had a choice ...) her son to the army. Only someone who has shared a common past and background with us and a supportive present, one who shares our questions and doubts with much hope for the future, is capable of knowing how we feel.
I have never written an essay or article that I wanted to share with so many readers. However, my visit as a member of the Partnership 2000 Young Leadership group has led me to consider transmitting my experiences and thoughts to as many people as possible in Israel. As I am not an ambassador, politician or journalist, I decided to do so by writing a letter to the editor.
Until I visited Cleveland, I never had to think about my Jewishness. It was something self-evident, like my being a woman, a working mother and so on. Being a woman, for example, does not compel me to ask questions. I'm a woman and that's all. The same is true of my Judaism. In broad strokes, I indeed related to concepts such as "proud Jew," "a Jewish mind," "Diaspora Jewry," "aliyah" and the like, but I never deeply understood why I feel pride at belonging to the Jewish People. Spirituality was not my strong suit. My decision not to be religious, even though I grew up in a religious home, was entirely a material one. I wanted to go to the beach on Shabbat, to travel and make the best use of the day as far as I was concerned, that is, to have a good time.
When I grew up, my decision to remain non-religious was reinforced by a sense of revulsion at what politics was doing to religious and vice versa. Secularity did not render me an atheist, but I didn't give to much thought to the matter.
Then came the visit to Cleveland, raising many questions regarding my identity. I was never as exposed to my Judaism as I am here. I meet people that are always inquiring and investigating and trying to reinforce Judaism among themselves and others. This visit brought me face to face with situations that appeared rather sad when I reflected on them subsequently. For example: When we were getting ready for home hospitality, someone from our group said that to avoid embarrassment, we ought to know what the Torah and Haftarah portions are for the relevant Shabbat. You understand? As a group from Israel, we had to avoid the embarrassment of our ignorance of the Torah portion, as though we had come from Africa or some other exotic location. What is saddest about this story is that a great many of us - most of us, in fact - really had no idea what the weekly Torah portion was. The local Jewish community's desire to define and determine its place on the Jewish identity map is most impressive!
In Israel, Judaism ranges from religious to traditional to non-religious. Here, every Jew who belongs to one of the branches of Judaism - be it Orthodox, Conservative, Reform or Reconstructionist - is a religious Jew. Self-definition and concern with one's Judaism - i.e. by observing religious precepts, including kashrut (in varying degrees), attending synagogue on Shabbat and even devoting Shabbat to spending time with friends and family, studying Hebrew at a Jewish college or studying Judaism (an activity that has expanded greatly over the past few years) - accord it far more depth and recognition than that experienced by the non-religious and traditional Jews I know in Israel.
My visit to the Conservative synagogue on Shabbat was a powerful spiritual experience. The prayers reflected so much respect, splendor and energy. It was marvelous to see people, young and old, women and children, sitting together in the impressively large and beautiful synagogue and praying. And their prayerbooks were not just sitting there ...
What's the difference if men and women sit together without a partition between them? What's the difference if Fran, our marvelous hostess, is wrapped in a tallit and wearing a skullcap? What's the difference if the rabbi conducting the service is speaking into a microphone or a mixed choir of men and women accompanies the cantor's chanting and prayers? All these "strange" elements are dwarfed by the depth and sincerity of the service.
No one here believes that he's a better Jew than anyone else. Everyone is concerned with his own Judaism and tries to cope with it and strengthen it. No one thinks he has a monopoly on Judaism. Great respect prevails among Jews regardless of affiliation. I was very pleased to hear the theory expressed by one community activist, quoting an Orthodox rabbi she knows, who said that all Jews are essentially following one long path. Each chooses the segment of that path where he finds himself most comfortable, but all are following the same path.
At this point, I would also like to relate to the Conversion Law, a law that I never wondered about previously and never had to devote any thought to in Israel. My visit here proved to me that the Conversion Law undermines the Judaism of some of the best and most devoted Jews I've ever met, who are even more offended by this law than I am.
In the United States, anyone can live however he desires. One need not be religious (regardless of affiliation) to be part of a community. If someone wants to return to or join Judaism he will certainly be doing so out of sincere intention, becoming part of a long, difficult and often relentless process. As indicated, the choice of one of the four types of Judaism as a reflection of one's Jewishness essentially renders one religious. So why challenge my Judaism, even if I choose to manifest it according to one of the patterns prevailing here? The religious political parties in Israel should to reassess their position on the Conversion Law. It is a pity that millions of people who are just as good Jews as the ones here will be condemned by religious institutions in Israel. The loss is all ours.
It would not be pretentious for me to suddenly begin living a more Jewish life, including observance of religious precepts. In Israel, it is very easy for us to be Jews. The environment protects us. As some people in the local community told me, I may have been introduced to the special personalities in the community, the more traditionally-minded and devoted among them. Nevertheless, perhaps precisely because such people exist, we ought to undertake some soul-searching. One such example is Fran, who once told me, to my astonishment, that she will know that she has succeeded in educating her children if her son, who is now four years old, tells her at age 18 that he wants to join the IDF ...
May 1999