Why Be Jewish?

For me, being Jewish is an integral part of my life. However, contrary to what it may seem, I haven't always felt this way. Throughout middle school and much of high school being Jewish really wasn't that important. At the same time, however, I longed for something to belong to. I was drawn to rap, heavy metal -- anything that seemed rebellious. In high school, two things I envied in particular were the popular Malcolm X hats and t-shirts with nationalistic slogans. They represented pride and dedication to a cause.

One shirt in particular bore the phrase, "If you don't stand for something, you'll fall for everything." I thought a lot about that one. What did I stand for? Where was my struggle? The fact was, I didn't have anything to stand for, and I needed something. I wasn't finding the meaning I was looking for in the lyrics of Iron Maiden and Metallica. I tried to imitate the non-Jewish cultures I saw around me, but I found I could never fully succeed in trying to be what I was not. Was there no true identity out there for me?

There was, and the and the answer I looking for had been right there all along. It was not in the other heritage and cultures I thought so attractive, but in my own. I never thought much about being Jewish as my identity. To me it was just background information, or excess baggage. I never found Sunday School or Hebrew School very engaging, and my peers seemed to feel the same way. My parents made a genuine effort to raise me Jewish. They took me to Shabbat services every week, but they seemed to lack the intensity I later found in the smaller, more traditional synagogues. There were times when I thought about rejecting the heritage and history that was my own but that I actually knew so little about. But I knew it would be difficult to ignore. The memories of Pesach and holidays with the family were things I didn't want to give up.

While I was flirting with different ideologies, I started going to meetings of Betar, an old Zionist youth movement. In Cleveland, Betar seemed to attract the outcasts of other Jewish youth groups -- the kids who found whatever group they were in too white-washed and bureaucratic.

It was in Betar that I first learned of ancient heroes like Shimon Bar-Kochba and his Judean army that fought to the death to liberate Eretz Yisrael, the holy land of Israel. I learned of the Jewish underground that fought the British Mandate government, which controlled the land of Israel from 1917 until the late 40's, and sought to re-establish an independent Jewish country. They finally succeeded in 1948, but not before decades of sweat and blood had been shed in the struggle.

Underground soldiers like Shlomo Ben-Yosef (who was arrested on trumped up charges), and Dov Gruner (whose family had been murdered by the Nazis), were hung by the imperialist British government. Nevertheless, they did not go down begging for final requests. These Jews were the old Jews, the original Jews in the spirit of Rabbi Akiva and Deborah the prophet. They were hung with the song of Hatikvah, the banned national anthem of the Jewish liberation movement on their lips.

This history was a far cry from any song I heard by Iron Maiden, and in complete contrast to the negative stereotype so many minorities must endure on TV sitcoms. This was real, and more importantly, it was mine. Perhaps Sunday School and Hebrew School would have had a greater impact if it focused more on Jewish pride.

By my senior year in high school, I was going to synagogue regularly and learning more about my origin. I began studying Torah and religion with local rabbis. I felt a need to make a statement -- and started wearing a kippah. Though I still have a long way to go, I now have meaning and purpose. I have a history, a Covenant, and an oath. As a Jew, I have chosen this obligation. This is my challenge.