I’ve been out and about lately (Diversity Shabbat at Temple Chai in Long Grove and the PJ Library Conference in Baltimore) hearing some things that are making me think. I am a philosophizing kind of gal, so I love to hear new nuggets that stop me and give me pause.
These are random comments I have heard which I share with you. I look forward to your thoughts about them.
Should we be speaking more about what Judaism cares about, stands for, values and teaches in addition to or instead of what Jews care about or what Jews value? When we speak about what Judaism stands for, it is an open invitation for anybody to learn more about our civilization, language, land, culture, texts and traditions. When we speak about Judaism, one can appreciate, be inspired by and learn from it whether or not that person is Jewish by birth or upbringing.
When trying to ascertain if someone is interested in Jewish experiences and opportunities, a question could be, “Do you have a connection to Judaism?” This is a beautiful, open and non-threatening or judgmental way in to conversation. Connections is what “we” want. Someone might say that he or she has a Jewish parent or grandparent. Maybe a connection is having Jewish friends or having taken a class on Judaism.
I have now heard several times in the last few days from someone who was not raised with Judaism who is now raising Jewish children that he or she does not believe their synagogue community or Jewish leaders always understand, articulate and value the sacrifice he or she has made to do this, the pain it has caused their extended family, the struggle it has been and their pride in this feat.
Someone who is not Jewish who is part of a Jewish community may wonder if the Jews around them feel affected by their presence. More than one person has said to me in the past few days that he or she wonders if Jews feel self-conscious about their presence or feel that their presence changes the dynamics of the community. When I have heard these comments, they have made me cringe and then I check myself in a cheshbon ha-nefesh—an accounting of the soul—something we do at Yom Kippur. We speak about wanting a diverse Jewish community. In our eyes, minds and hearts, what does this look like, sound like and feel like? Is someone who’s newer to Judaism considered the “other,” and do they stand out? What can we do about this?