Growing up in New York City, I think I assumed most people were Jewish. I went to school on the Upper East Side of Manhattan and am pretty sure that I attended a Bar or Bat Mitzvah every weekend of seventh grade. My mother is Christian and my father is Jewish. When I was very young, we would go to the local church every Sunday. However, I considered that nap time. In middle school, I was confirmed, but my mother did not really leave me any say in that decision. From the beginning of high school on, I would only go to church for the holidays. As a family, we would celebrate all the Christian holidays with my mom’s side and the Jewish with my father’s side.
Last fall was the start of my life away from home. I distinctly remember being confused when I found out that I had class over Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur. I have never really strictly observed these holidays, and definitely never fasted for Yom Kippur, but it felt weird to be in class. When I was back in my room, I FaceTimed my parents, and they were with my extended family. It was my first time talking with most of my relatives since I had moved in.
Before I knew it, the second semester was well underway, and it was spring time. My family and I had a really nice Passover tradition. We would always host the first night, inviting my dad’s whole side, and then go to our family friends’ for the second night. This time around I felt that FaceTiming home was not enough. I had made some new friends who were Jewish and they asked if I wanted to go to the Chabad Passover Seder. I did not really know what to expect, but I remember telling Nana, my Jewish grandmother, that I was excited to go.
I went into the night nervous that I was not “Jewish enough” and that I would not fit in. What I found was a very welcoming community. Yes, the majority were more religious than I was, but I never felt judged for not knowing how to read Hebrew or for not having all of the prayers memorized. I left with new familiar faces that I was happy to see around campus.
Over break, I had the incredible opportunity to travel to Israel. My mom’s best friend, who is the mother of our closest family friends, the same ones that we celebrate the second night of Passover with, did not have a bat mitzvah as a teenager. She wanted to become a bat mitzvah as an adult, after much study, in Israel. My family spent a week in Israel. It truly was a life changing experience. I was in awe of the history as I walked around the Old City.
There are no words to describe the feeling of walking through Yad Vashem, Israel’s official memorial to the victims of the Holocaust. The actual Bat Mitzvah ceremony took place on Masada and was breathtaking. Even with everything I experienced, however, I think the most memorable part of the trip was a simple cab ride.
My family was on our way to dinner across Jerusalem. We got in the taxi and the first thing I noticed was a copy of The Bible on the passenger seat. After we filed into the car and told the driver where we were going, he struck up a conversation. It started with the basic questions, “Where are you from? How long are you here? What have you seen?” But by the time we got to the restaurant we were having a debate about the future of religion, as many people have become more secular. What I find the most amazing about this particular experience is how rare it is. Without a doubt, I believe that if the same topics were discussed in a New York City taxi ride, I would only be talking about how annoying of a driver I had.
This summer I worked for an advertising and media company in Midtown. I would read
The New York Times
on my way into the office in the morning. I was shocked by how frequently Anti-Semitic remarks were covered in the news. While there is a worsening issue with racial and ethnic hatred in America right now, I have to admit I was naive to the complexity of it.
I have found the rise of a Neo-Nazi movement particularly disgusting. I cannot believe that there are Americans who, like my Jewish grandfather, fought against the Nazis in the Second World War just to see fellow Americans wear a Swastika. I will admit that this strikes a particular chord with me due to my family’s history. My grandmother lost both her father and brother to the war.
When I returned to campus this fall I made sure to attend the first Shabbat, or Friday dinner, at Chabad. While enjoying a delicious meal, I learned about some of the programming that is being offered this fall. I enrolled in Sinai Scholars, an educational experience that I am excited will help me learn more about the Jewish texts, discover more about my heritage, and help me connect with fellow members of the Jewish community on campus. Rabbi Didy Waks, the Director of the Chabad of Clinton, offered to hang a Mezuzah on my dorm room door. The Chabad website defines a Mezuzah as: “Mezuzah: (Lit. “doorpost”): A small parchment scroll upon which the Hebrew words of the Shema are handwritten by a scribe. Mezuzah scrolls are rolled up and affixed to the doorposts of Jewish homes, designating the home as Jewish and reminding those who live there of their connection to G-d and their heritage.”
Right away I knew I wanted one. No friends have commented on it, and frankly, I do not care if they do or do not. Over the last year I have loved learning more about Judaism and my Jewish heritage. I would not say I am a practicing Jew, I do not keep kosher or pray on a regular basis, but I would say I am Jewish. I do not know how my Jewish identity will continue to change and grow, but I do know it has made me a more active community member.
