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although the question "Who is a Jew" is debated
in these parts every so often, and the Law of
Return gives precedence to Jews over others - I
never took it personally. I am deeply troubled by
the problem of the non-Jewish citizens of
Israel, but that has nothing to do with me being
or feeling Jewish. The Jews of England, or of
any other nation for that matter, must confront
the issue of being Jewish citizens of a non-
Jewish state. And the fact that there is a
Jewish state, and that its policies sometimes
leave a lot to be desired - or debated, or
protested - is part of their "issue" with their
Jewishness.
Which brings me to the realization that, were it
not for my parents, especially my mother, I
would have had the same problem myself. I was
born in Poland and discovered that my family was
Jewish when I was 7. I didn't like the idea, but
mainly because it meant that I had to leave the
place I was familiar with, and the friends I had,
to go to an unknown country with the exotic
name of Israel.
Being young and of a naturally adaptive nature, I
got used to Israel, the Hebrew language and the
heat pretty quickly. What I did find difficult
while growing up, however, was my mother's
complaints: She never felt at home in Israel.
She grew up in an assimilated family in pre-war
Warsaw, lost her family, came to Israel in her
late 40s, had rough times mastering the
language and finding work in her profession (she
was a psychologist), and without her network of
friends, who remained in Warsaw, she felt until
her last moment like a fish out of water. Like
many other immigrants to Israel, she was
"aliyah-challenged"; this is a disability that is
not recognized by the welfare services, nor does
it warrant any compensation, but it is probably a
much more common phenomenon than we realize.
My mother's complaints were not actually
complaints. Rather, they reflected the bitter
observation, which she voiced repeatedly, about
sacrificing her life and happiness to provide for
a better and brighter future for me and my
sister than the one she envisaged for us had we
stayed in Poland. Upon hearing this, as an
adolescent and even as a young adult - and, in
retrospect, quite a selfish one - I used to tell
her that while sympathizing with her plight, I
could not fully appreciate her sacrifice: She had
not consulted me about it at the time, and most
probably I would have built my life in Poland had
we stayed there.
Only recently, many years after her death, and
particularly while attending the Limmud
conference with many cheerful and jewbilant
English Jews, did I realize she actually did a
great thing for me, much greater than even she
could have imagined - something I could only
learn to fully appreciate with time. She spared
me the problem of pondering what it means to
be Jewish - or, to put it differently, she allowed
me to come to terms with this issue in my own
good time. And that's why I can afford to see
my Jewishness in terms of the fact that I "live"
in Hebrew, which gives me the key to the myriad
aspects of the Jewish heritage without needing
to pass through the "keyhole" of religion, for
instance.
Thus, while attending Limmud, I actually learned
quite a lot about myself - yet another esoteric
subject that I tend to stumble upon from time
to time.
• Is your Jewishness ‘an issue’ if you live in
the diaspora? In what ways?
• Does living in Israel remove the problem?
How? How does it not?