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When We Feel Jewish
Because Chanukah is the story of assimilation, we look at how, where and when we feel Jewish in today’s assimilated 21st century world.
Debra Roth Kane
Photography by Ryan Murray
Most of us know the basic outline of the story of Chanukah: During the second century B.C.E. Judah Maccabee and his soldiers successfully defended the rights of Jews to practice their religion. The Temple in Jerusalem had been decimated; it was cleaned and rededicated, and a small amount of oil lasted a miraculous eight days.
But why did the Greek King Antiochus of Syria outlaw traditional Jewish rituals in the first place? At the time, there were two factions of Jews: the traditionalists and the Hellenists. The Hellenists were more interested in assimilation with the Greek culture, and Antiochus wanted to Hellenize the entire population.
Our time too is one of assimilation for many segments of the Jewish population. We don’t look different from our non-Jewish neighbors. The patterns of our days, spent at the office or driving carpool, in many ways match those of our non-Jewish neighbors.
So what gives us a seperate identity as Jews? When, where and why do we feel particularly Jewish?
Clearly there are times when religion plays a role. Joelle Sagner says that she feels most Jewish “during Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur in Pikesville. There are so many shuls. You see people out walking, and all the parking lots are full,” says this Pikesville resident.
Jon Hazman of Ruxton agrees. “In day-to-day life, religion is secondary. I feel most Jewish during the High Holidays or when I’m at a bar or bat mitzvah.”
A different holiday comes to mind for Stevenson resident Karen Adashek, because her family has just started a tradition of building their own sukkah at her daughter’s request. “We built it from scratch, ate in it, invited friends over. We participated in a ritual that we hadn’t participated in previously. For our family, that was a lot. And we really enjoyed it,” she says.
Friday night is a particularly “Jewish” time for many families. The Kaplan family of Pikesville has made Shabbat dinner a priority. Shari Kaplan says, “Whether we do it at home or get together with other families — we do it. When we are traveling, my husband and son put napkins on their heads, and we ask the restaurant for a basket of rolls. We blow out the candles on the restaurant table and then relight them. Wherever we are, we say the prayers and get that in every week.”
But Kaplan, who converted to Judaism in her thirties, also feels a strong connection to her Judaism that is not dependent on a particular time of the week or year. “I feel Jewish when people share their stories about their grandparents, whether it’s details about experiencing the Holocaust or what their bubbie cooked. I want to bring that into my home, because I converted and didn’t grow up with it. Jewish people have passions about their history,” she says.
Education is another key for Kaplan, who recommends a class sponsored by the Center for Jewish Education called Ikkarim, meaning “roots,” a 16-week program about bringing Jewish traditions and rituals into the family life. She is trying to learn Hebrew along with her daughter Rachel, a first grade student at Krieger Schecter Day School, because, she says, “I feel most Jewish when I’m learning.”
Certain places also make us feel Jewish, sometimes for widely different reasons. Adashek describes the importance of her own home. “I have Jewish art all over my home and a mezuzah on every door within. I have a collection of dreidels in my living room. This is absolutely a Jewish home. It isn’t just on the front door and that’s all,” she says.
Sagner cites Pikeville again, where she says certain spots, like Goldberg’s New York Kosher Bagels, feel really Jewish. Sagner remarks that “growing up in Philly, that didn’t happen. I think it’s nice that the neighborhood feels Jewish. There’s comfort in it.”
Israel is also a place that clearly can strengthen one’s sense of Jewish identity. Hazman mentions the impact of a daily diary that his sister has been sending him from her mission to Israel. He notes, “I’d like to do a mission. It can remind us that we are Jewish, a minority, and that we need to protect Judaism.”
Hazman also feels especially Jewish in another setting. His wife Cindy is Catholic, and he and his wife attend services together on holidays. Although, he adds, “I feel more Jewish when I’m attending mass with my wife. I only go on Easter and Christmas. But when I’m in a church, I feel very Jewish.”
During the holiday season, our sense of being different can come to the forefront, as streets and stores fill with Christmas decorations. Many Jewish people enjoy this holiday atmosphere, even though most of the decorations highlight a holiday that is not our own.
“The holiday season is a festive time of year that everyone can enjoy. Irving Berlin, a Jew, wrote Christmas carols,” says Hazman. (Berlin wrote “White Christmas” for the 1942 movie “Holiday Inn” and won an Academy Award for the song; Berlin reportedly referred to “White Christmas” as “the best song I’ve ever written.”)
But not everyone feels so welcoming toward the commercial aspects of the Christmas season. Sagner has a more complicated reaction. “The lights are pretty,” she acknowledges, “but somewhat offensive. We live in such a densely populated Jewish area; so why does the Giant have only Christmas lights when they cater to a Jewish population? When I drive around with my kids, my son especially is offended by the lack of Chanukah decorations. Through his eyes, I see more of it.”
Adashek seconds this mixed reaction. “The holiday season makes me feel more Jewish. I see Christmas lights and know that they aren’t mine. When I walk through stores and am inundated with red and green, it’s sensory overload. I know it’s shopping season for all religions, but I think it brings you back to your roots because it feels alien. The lights and the decorations make me feel separate, by choice.”
Kaplan has a special perspective on the holiday season. “My sadness in converting wasn’t that I had to give up Christmas. I’m happy for my kids to share and appreciate Christmas with my family. My sadness is not having the Jewish history with the holidays,” she says.
Reason enough for all of us — whether creating new histories or building on old — to revel in another season of latkes, dreidels and stories of a great miracle that happened back in a time perhaps not entirely unlike our own.
