The Gift of the Jews— a Reflection

by Alexi Vahlkamp

“The endless legal refinements made down the centuries by the rabbis have given the word talmudic the connotation of “differentiating to the point of absurdity.”  They have also set Jew against Jew, so that we hear even in our day the invidious charge of the super-Orthodox that more flexible forms of Judaism aren’t Judaism.”                                                                                                               The Gift of the Jews.

             Upon creation, my synagogue, Aitz Hayim, birthed a new type of religious observance: Post-denominationalism.  Think not of the overweight men in black hats and suits whose lips move silently in a spiritual frenzy; these are those who make up our Orthodox sect.  Nor should the image be conjured of middle class families that wear the mask of attentiveness during services but discreetly check their watches every five minutes; these are characteristics of our Conservative division.  And wrong still would it be to assume that we follow the traditions of the Reform, who conveniently translated the Hebrew texts into English, thus saving themselves the time and effort of learning a new alphabet.  Aitz Hayim- notorious for rejecting the traditional attributes of Judaism- took upon itself the task of designing a snugger fitting faith, one that was flexible enough to fit the requirements of all its congregants.  And thus Post-denominationalism was born!  Think now of drums beating, cymbals ringing, horah lines dancing, and a cacophony of voices singing the wrong words, but singing nonetheless.  This is my synagogue.  Oh how it embarrasses me sometimes!

            I grew up attending a Conservative Jewish day school whose job it was to educate the sons and daughters of the more committed Jews living on the North Shore.  Consequently, during daily prayers I confess I looked more at the clock than in my Siddur;  but still, many Conservative values were bestowed upon me and I grew up learning the difference between “good” and “bad” Jewish conduct.  For example, dressing up on Halloween was considered taboo and, although it wasn’t directly acknowledged, my school went on a holy crusade to prevent its students from becoming Cinderella or Snow White on the night of October 31^st.  In order to maintain my Conservative façade of Judaism, at lunch time on the day of November 1^st I conveniently informed all who would listen that the abundance of candy in my lunch was due to discarded candies left by trick-or-treaters on my doorstep, and certainly I had not been out collecting sugary sweets myself.  This was the first of many lies I told so as to not make myself different from the rest of my classmates, all who observed their Judaism exactly as they were taught. 

            As my classmates and I grew older we began learning about each other more intimately and, ultimately, my real Judaism was discovered.  I was not Conservative at all, I wasn’t even Reform, I belonged to Aitz Hayim, that Shul.  At the impressionable age of thirteen I never wanted to deviate from the norm.  I wanted to be like everyone else and not answer the phone on Saturdays. More than anything, I wanted to be Conservative.  Consumed with shame because my synagogue played musical instruments on the Sabbath, (an act strictly forbidden by Jewish law), I compliantly endured ridicule and comments such as “you’re not really Jewish” from my schoolmates.  And I truly believed I wasn’t.

            Being older (and wiser), I now see how utterly ridiculous my rigid notions of Judaism were.  I wanted so desperately to be accepted into the Conservative Jewish community that I had forgotten what it meant to be Jewish.  I was duped by the technicalities of the Torah, by the silly and superfluous minutia of rabbis who had to stick their noses in God’s business and try to tell His people what He really meant to say.  He’s God, I don’t think he needs an interpreter.  I was wronged, misled, deceived.  God won’t love me any greater if I refuse to drive on Saturday or if I drink a glass of milk eight hours after eating my chicken nuggets instead of only three.  He didn’t make those rules and I won’t follow them.  I wish I knew then what I know now, that the level of my observance doesn’t determine my worth as a member of the Jewish community.

In a perfect world it would be wonderful if I could embrace my fellow Orthodox Jew in a great burly bear-hug and inform him of the epiphany I had after leaving middle school.  I would tell him about all the different ways I elevate God to his rightful place in the clouds and how lovingly I revere him for all He has given me.  I’d say to him “we’re not so different, you and I” and then, hand in hand, we’d frolic across the world pointing out all of God’s beautiful creations together.  But this is not a perfect world and I seldom frolic.  It is a shame I’ve been labeled a traitor by my own religion and that for so long I believed this charge to be true.  Shame on me for believing so strongly for the sake of acceptance.  Shame on the Jewish community for pointing fingers at each other instead of realizing we are one religion.  I cannot change what others think of me, but I can change the way I think.  I have learned from having Orthodox friends, attending a Conservative school, going to Reform Bat-Mitzvahs, and belonging to a Post-denominational synagogue that everyone is different.  While some pray with ease, others struggle to find the words, and some don’t even care what the words are.  I hope soon we will see that our individualities bind us together.  There may be many different approaches but, in the end, we’re all praying.