Dear {{first_name}},
We have arrived at the final newsletter of the secular year 2023 and thus my last article of the year. As Jews in the modern world, we live in two distinct times at once. We live the Jewish Calendar, happy 16th of Tevet everyone, and we also live in the secular/Gregorian one at the same time. We harmonize the two and make it a point to allow for the Jewish one to set the tone and flow of our lives and the secular one to navigate our business and outside affairs. So, while New Year’s is not a Jewish celebration, it’s worth noting and marking. Jews are the original sanctifiers of time and this affords us another opportunity to acknowledge the majesty of time and actively living in it.
When 2023 began, I was so happy to say goodbye to 2022 on a personal level. 2022 had been so hard for me and my family. My father was diagnosed with bladder cancer, was living in pain and agony, and was in and out of the hospital. I felt last New Year’s Eve that I was saying goodbye to that badness and moving forward. Well, our story was not afforded a happy ending and thus it was not a better year but a far worse one that I discovered as it only started.
When the Hebrew Year, 5783, ended, I recognized that my dad’s illness had begun right around the beginning of that year and so perhaps my issue wasn’t with 2022 but with 5783. Around Rosh Hashana I was so happy to say goodbye to a painful year and embrace a new one. That was on the first of Tishrei, September 17, and then just 22 days later on the 22nd of Tishrei, October 7, Shemini Atzeret, my world, and our world, was rocked in a way we have no recollection of as a community. Now I find myself counting down the minutes again to the end of another reckoning of time, the year 2023, and hoping with its conclusion we’re given the opportunity for a better 2024.
In this week’s Parsha, VaYahi, we conclude the book of Bereshit, Genesis. The first fifth of the Torah is dedicated to the establishment of our sacred connection to God through our acknowledgment of and advocacy for a singular God that rules all of the world… Monotheism. This one book is at the root of our heritage as well as the foundation of the Western World. The final chapters consist of a prolonged death scene of Jacob and his conversations with his sons. In one such scene, Joseph brings his sons, Ephraim and Menasha, to also be blessed by his father (their grandfather). In a very overt comment, Jacob points out that he doesn’t recognize who the boys were with his son, Joseph. Commentators over the generations have pointed out that Joseph’s brothers, likewise, had not recognized Joseph when they were reunited, in part because he (and in turn his sons) was assimilated and looked more Egyptian than Israelite. Today we have the same problem. Jews have been able to “pass” as whatever they want to be with more and more ease. While this seems to be a good thing at first glance, it’s not in the end. Jews being lumped together and being identified with the majority white culture does not speak to the unique and real experience Jews have historically had as outsiders, a persecuted minority, and always aware of the real tenuousness of our continued existence. While people like to assert Jews are “white” today, the reality is this assertion negates the true struggle we endure every day.
Another portion of the assimilation conversation regarding Joseph’s sons is the major challenge of living outside of the Land of Israel. When Jews moved away from their historical center and their shared heritage, they found the need to fit in with the majority cultures around them. This was a natural instinct as we craved their acceptance to validate us. That acceptance came, and comes, at a steep price… a willingness to change who we are and what we are. In Israel, assimilation isn’t a concern because the majority culture all around our people is our culture. The practices of one’s neighbors are your own practices. It’s in Israel where Judaism is most fully able to be realized and observed. It’s in Israel where Jews are able to assert their sense of self more so than any other place on earth.
At Camp Ramah there’s a tradition that the counselors sing a special song to the kids each night to help them fall asleep:
