I never thought I would find myself walking through
the Old City of Jerusalem with a group of Christians. I recently spent five days with the Holy Land
Democracy Project, a group of non-Jewish teachers, many of them at Catholic
schools, that is sponsored by the Jewish Federation of Greater Los Angeles to
help integrate much needed Israel education into Los Angeles classrooms.
Just a few hours into the trip, we were touring the
Old City. “The Old City is all about
paradox. Everywhere you look, there’s a
contrast,” our tour guide told us as we walked towards the Kotel. I couldn’t help but think that- being in
Israel with a group of non-Jews was a real contrast for me. I have been to Israel several times but
always with groups of Jews. Seeing
Israel through the eyes of non-Jews and first-timers was a completely new
experience. Listening to them recite and
relate verses from the Bible at both Christian and Jewish sites was new and
surprising for me. I was also surprised
at how moved the teachers felt as we visited the Kotel and other Jewish
sites. It was not surprising how easily
they picked up essential Hebrew phrases like “L’Chaim!” and “Bete’avon!” when
food and drinks were involved.
But what was the most surprising for me was how
being with this group of non-Jews actually strengthened my Jewish
identity. Back in Los Angeles, I never
felt much of a distinction between Christians and me. I had a lot of Christian
friends, participated in non-religious activities, and even had non-Jews over
for Jewish holidays. And being in Berlin where I live, work, and socialize in
the Jewish community, it’s a given that I should feel Jewish. But standing there at the Kotel, the holiest
spot for Jews, with a group of Catholics made me feel more Jewish than I ever
had before. It made me realize that my
Jewish upbringing, my history, and my connection to this place distinguished me
from the rest of the group. One of the
participants, a teacher at a Catholic high school, told me that he was jealous
that Jews get to have this place that is so tied in with our identities. It was a strange feeling, sort of being
isolated but feeling this contrast was also a powerful experience that defined
who I am as a Jew.
I had the opportunity to speak to the group at Yad
Vashem, which I have a very personal connection to. Three of my grandparents
are Holocaust survivors from Romania, Holland and Germany. My grandmother was
just a toddler when she was separated from her parents in the Netherlands. During the Holocaust, she was passed from
family to family and was never shown any love or affection that she
craved. She is the only survivor in her
entire family. She has no cemetery to go to, no ashes or memorial site to mourn
her parents, grandparents, aunts, uncles and cousins. So she has a plaque at
Yad Vashem, the very place where I spoke to the group, with the names of her
murdered relatives.
I have spent the past year working and immersing
myself in the Jewish world, and to be able to stand in front of a group of
people who have no personal connection to the Holocaust and tell my
grandparents’ stories and the stories of Jews I’ve worked with in Europe was a profound
moment for me. After I finished
speaking, a few of the participants came up to me to tell me that the
experience moved them to tears.
I am grateful to have had the chance to tour Israel
with such a wonderful group of people.
Their obvious passion for what they do and their new understanding and
deep appreciation of the country I get to call my homeland was refreshing. And amidst so much anti-Israel sentiment in
the world today, this gives me hope for the future of Zionism, starting in Los
Angeles classrooms.
With the group at my grandmother's plaque |
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