Good piece, Nancy. Yeah. Same, same. I wish everyone felt safe, not just Jews. I know you feel the same way. As divisions weren't tense enough, it just keeps getting worse every day. The problem I have with Israel is that what they're doing doesn't reflect my Jewish values. Whatever happened to the concept of welcoming the stranger? Such an important part of Jewish ethics. What's happening in Israel isn't Jewish to me at all. And it's a huge disappointment. xo
An important essay, I'm so glad you shared. These are uneasy times for Jews. I've been through every form of congregational Judaism, from Reconstructionist and reform, raised Conservative, spent some recent years as a Chabad-Lubavitch. Learned from all of them, deny none of them. A few months ago we had a holiday dinner at the home of our Chabad rabbi, to whom we are still close, and he tried to define me by my lack of participation at shabbat services as "assimilated" since before Covid. I told him what I believed (humorously): That I learned so much from him that I had skyrocketed into the stage of direct connection with my Jewish "higher power" beyond mere prayer rituals. That when I was eight years old and heard about the suffering of the first century martyrs such as Rabbi Akiva, slowly burned at the stake and flayed to death by rakes, with the shema on his lips, that's when I decided I was "all in." And I was, no matter where or when I'm not attending a shul.
My first year Hebrew school teacher was a brilliant and inspiring man who would often walk out because he could not control our sugar-shock antic class behavior. He taught the martyrs with great passion, because he had lost so much family in the Shoah, and this was not yet spoken about (pre-Eichmann trial) even in Hebrew school.
I actually regret that I didn't have a deeper education. My father came here from Palestine. His parents were ultra-Orthodox and my father let it all go when he came here. And he never talked about it. This was a long time ago.
Hi Nancy, excellent piece! I suppose many of us are questioning and wondering about who we are, where we came from and what it means ( to our survival) right now. It’s uncomfortable to be fuzzy and unclear. It is for me. Until I did my DNA when I was 58 years old, I had no idea my dad was Jewish. He never uttered a word. It’s been confusing and painful to have my own parent erase part of my heritage so completely. And what was his pain that caused him to hold that tightly for 97 years, even to his own daughter?
I so appreciate your vulnerable account of your journey. With a president seemingly hellbent on sanitizing the blood lines, it’s a time for great reflection on these matters. And a time to own who we are and where we come from and know it’s all good.
Nancy, I was with you on that bus! As I tell the story, as I have had occasion to recently, we were on the 79th St crosstown, horsing around, possibly trying to stand on our toes while the bus lurched through the park, and a lady looking at us with disdain, said "Those kikes are all alike." I felt some pride when I told my parents, like I, too had endured an episode of antisemitism that had not been in my experience growing up on the upper west side.
I stayed in Sunday School through confirmation b/c there were boys there. My father had no use for religion and my mother had an ambivalent relationship with it as she grew up in an Orthodox home where her job at the Seder was to wait on the men. Once I went to Conservative services in graduate school; I didn't understand the Hebrew and the songs had different melodies and I missed my family. Whenever I've gone to a bar mitzvah I cry when I see the family together on the bima but I don't think that has anything to do with religion.
I've considered myself a cultural Jew, feeling most comfortable with people who were Jewish (I.e., had similar values) but not too Jewy! And then, inexplicably, visiting Israel became #1 on my bucket list and I went in November, 11 months before the October 7 massacre. And I fell in love -- not with religion but with that incredible country, existing against all odds as a homeland for Jews everywhere. I understood that it needs to exist. Which is why the current situation is horrific -- the massacre of civilians on all sides with no sign of an ending. Heartbreaking.
Thanks for this thoughtful and thought provoking essay.
Cindy, thank you so much for such a thoughtful response. Funny that I remembered it being on the Lexington Ave bus, but I guess the where isn't really the point.
I've been to Israel three times, most recently a year ago. I love the country. I think it's in my blood and that's why what is happening sickens me. Because there's no good that can come of it, and because I don't think the heart of the people or the religion is reflected in what's going on.
This was a tough essay for me to write and I worried about how those who read it would respond. But it's been on my mind and I couldn't push the words or thoughts away.
Hi Nancy, this is a well written, thoughtful reflective, essay that taught me very much.
I’m glad I stopped by to read, I always enjoy reading your words. I have always had Jewish friends throughout my life, especially when I got out of my hometown of Irish or Italian Catholics.
The bus incident and the boys giving thanks that they were not born female.
I think that runs across all sectors and hopefully it will continue to change.
Thank you for being there beautiful woman you are with your Jewish black curls.
Well said, Nancy. I was surprised when I read about your friend in LA and realized that’s me!
I feel much of this, too, despite my background. I belonged to a group of children of Holocaust survivors for many years and I learned that some of us also feel ‘not very Jewish.’
I currently am feeling even more conflicted about my Jewishness. Right now, as I pen the novel that’s eluded me for decades, “The Goldsmith’s Daughter,”
as innocent people are being rounded up and disappeared I’m writing scenes of my Viennese family being rounded up by the Gestapo and deported to Auschwitz.
It’s a turbulent time for us all, dear Nancy, and my heart is with you.
I must say how very cool it is that we’ve known each other since Kimdergarten.
Good piece, Nancy. Yeah. Same, same. I wish everyone felt safe, not just Jews. I know you feel the same way. As divisions weren't tense enough, it just keeps getting worse every day. The problem I have with Israel is that what they're doing doesn't reflect my Jewish values. Whatever happened to the concept of welcoming the stranger? Such an important part of Jewish ethics. What's happening in Israel isn't Jewish to me at all. And it's a huge disappointment. xo
I completely agree with what you say about Israel. It sickens me.
An important essay, I'm so glad you shared. These are uneasy times for Jews. I've been through every form of congregational Judaism, from Reconstructionist and reform, raised Conservative, spent some recent years as a Chabad-Lubavitch. Learned from all of them, deny none of them. A few months ago we had a holiday dinner at the home of our Chabad rabbi, to whom we are still close, and he tried to define me by my lack of participation at shabbat services as "assimilated" since before Covid. I told him what I believed (humorously): That I learned so much from him that I had skyrocketed into the stage of direct connection with my Jewish "higher power" beyond mere prayer rituals. That when I was eight years old and heard about the suffering of the first century martyrs such as Rabbi Akiva, slowly burned at the stake and flayed to death by rakes, with the shema on his lips, that's when I decided I was "all in." And I was, no matter where or when I'm not attending a shul.
Thank you so so much for "getting it." For my confirmation I read a passage that was about Rabbi Akiva!
My first year Hebrew school teacher was a brilliant and inspiring man who would often walk out because he could not control our sugar-shock antic class behavior. He taught the martyrs with great passion, because he had lost so much family in the Shoah, and this was not yet spoken about (pre-Eichmann trial) even in Hebrew school.
I actually regret that I didn't have a deeper education. My father came here from Palestine. His parents were ultra-Orthodox and my father let it all go when he came here. And he never talked about it. This was a long time ago.
Hi Nancy, excellent piece! I suppose many of us are questioning and wondering about who we are, where we came from and what it means ( to our survival) right now. It’s uncomfortable to be fuzzy and unclear. It is for me. Until I did my DNA when I was 58 years old, I had no idea my dad was Jewish. He never uttered a word. It’s been confusing and painful to have my own parent erase part of my heritage so completely. And what was his pain that caused him to hold that tightly for 97 years, even to his own daughter?
I so appreciate your vulnerable account of your journey. With a president seemingly hellbent on sanitizing the blood lines, it’s a time for great reflection on these matters. And a time to own who we are and where we come from and know it’s all good.
Amy, thank you so much for your own honesty. That's quite a discovery you made after so many years.
Nancy, I was with you on that bus! As I tell the story, as I have had occasion to recently, we were on the 79th St crosstown, horsing around, possibly trying to stand on our toes while the bus lurched through the park, and a lady looking at us with disdain, said "Those kikes are all alike." I felt some pride when I told my parents, like I, too had endured an episode of antisemitism that had not been in my experience growing up on the upper west side.
I stayed in Sunday School through confirmation b/c there were boys there. My father had no use for religion and my mother had an ambivalent relationship with it as she grew up in an Orthodox home where her job at the Seder was to wait on the men. Once I went to Conservative services in graduate school; I didn't understand the Hebrew and the songs had different melodies and I missed my family. Whenever I've gone to a bar mitzvah I cry when I see the family together on the bima but I don't think that has anything to do with religion.
I've considered myself a cultural Jew, feeling most comfortable with people who were Jewish (I.e., had similar values) but not too Jewy! And then, inexplicably, visiting Israel became #1 on my bucket list and I went in November, 11 months before the October 7 massacre. And I fell in love -- not with religion but with that incredible country, existing against all odds as a homeland for Jews everywhere. I understood that it needs to exist. Which is why the current situation is horrific -- the massacre of civilians on all sides with no sign of an ending. Heartbreaking.
Thanks for this thoughtful and thought provoking essay.
Cindy, thank you so much for such a thoughtful response. Funny that I remembered it being on the Lexington Ave bus, but I guess the where isn't really the point.
I've been to Israel three times, most recently a year ago. I love the country. I think it's in my blood and that's why what is happening sickens me. Because there's no good that can come of it, and because I don't think the heart of the people or the religion is reflected in what's going on.
This was a tough essay for me to write and I worried about how those who read it would respond. But it's been on my mind and I couldn't push the words or thoughts away.
Hi Nancy, this is a well written, thoughtful reflective, essay that taught me very much.
I’m glad I stopped by to read, I always enjoy reading your words. I have always had Jewish friends throughout my life, especially when I got out of my hometown of Irish or Italian Catholics.
The bus incident and the boys giving thanks that they were not born female.
I think that runs across all sectors and hopefully it will continue to change.
Thank you for being there beautiful woman you are with your Jewish black curls.
Prajna, I'm glad that these words were received as I hoped they would be. Thank you.
Your honesty teaches me. Thanks Nancy
Thank you! ❤️
Well said, Nancy. I was surprised when I read about your friend in LA and realized that’s me!
I feel much of this, too, despite my background. I belonged to a group of children of Holocaust survivors for many years and I learned that some of us also feel ‘not very Jewish.’
I currently am feeling even more conflicted about my Jewishness. Right now, as I pen the novel that’s eluded me for decades, “The Goldsmith’s Daughter,”
as innocent people are being rounded up and disappeared I’m writing scenes of my Viennese family being rounded up by the Gestapo and deported to Auschwitz.
It’s a turbulent time for us all, dear Nancy, and my heart is with you.
I must say how very cool it is that we’ve known each other since Kimdergarten.
It means as lot to me that our feelings are pretty much aligned. A lot, especially considering your heritage.
And isn't it very cool that are paths are meeting as they are.
Resonate with so much of this. Thanks for breaking it all down.
Thank you!