This academic year I am a part of the Peoplehood Project: a UJA sponsored program that brings together students from Columbia/Barnard Hillel, Oranim College in northern Israel, and ZWST, a German Jewish organization. Each cohort spends time learning in their respective home countries, then, over winter break, all three groups spend time traveling and learning together in Israel and Germany. Our three-week seminar with German and Israeli Jews focused on topics related to Jewish identity, peoplehood, and pluralism. The common sentiment of the trip was that we could never travel to Israel again without Germans. Rather than using Israel as a place to see sights and eat falafel, the Peoplehood Project participants used Israel as a meeting ground to learn from other Jews from diverse backgrounds.
I was surprised to find that at times our conversations with Israeli and German Jews divided us rather than united us. German, Israeli, and American Jews all have different Jewish vernaculars. American Judaism has what my friend Maya Zinkow calls “a spectrum of possibility,” of many denominations such as Secular, Reform, Conservative, and Orthodox. German and Israeli Judaism is more black and white. In Germany, the structure of the German Jewish community lends itself to a clear divide between “liberal” and “orthodox,” and in Israel, you are typically either secular or religious. For Germans and Israelis, there was no middle ground. The American group was therefore a model of what Jewish pluralism can look like, a concept that is not found in the German or Israeli Jewish vernacular or practice.
An exercise on Jewish identities during our seminar in northern Israel was telling. When asked to make collages of different elements of our Jewish experience, the Israelis overwhelmingly chose the Holocaust, family, the Israeli army, and many photos of the state of Israel; American Jews choose a prayer book, peace, Bible images, Torah, pluralism, and far less photos relating to Israel and the Holocaust. We came to understand that our home countries have a deep and meaningful influence on the way we experience our Judaism. We are a certain type of Jew because of where we are from.
It was not until the jet lag finally wore off a few days into our trip that I finally got it. I was thrown off by the debates and arguments that we had been having with the Germans and Israelis about questions of access and defining the shades of Jewish identity. Our trip was not simply about exchanging and understanding our differences but recognizing the similarities we face. These similarities might not be found in the content of our Judaisms, but rather in how we attempt to innovate and experiment within our Jewish practices.
In Israel, we visited secular yeshivot, such as Binah and Almah, that seek to engage Jews who are not heavily involved in the Jewish community. Israel has organizations such as Women of the Wall and Ma’aleh, a Modern Orthodox film school, whose goals are to allow a diversity of Israeli Jews to access Judaism. In Berlin, we met with the founders of Hamakom, a Jewish exploration and learning organization in Berlin trying to find a home for Jews who choose not to go to synagogue to satisfy their needs for spirituality. ZWST sponsors machanot, camps, for German youth which provide Jewish experiences and the chance to meet other German Jews. What struck me the most was Aviva, the online magazine for Jewish women in Berlin that provides a space for them to express their Jewish feminist identities through writing and culture. Similar to the meaning of its name, “spring,” Aviva represents a rebirth of Jewish feminism in a country that is currently facing a rebirth of Jewish identity, providing a cultural need for Jewish women who find their connection to Judaism through feminism and writing rather than Torah and tradition.
While visiting these amazing people and places, names such as Camp Ramah, Mechon Hadar, Hillel, and other innovative American organizations came to mind; each of them built to construct creative, unique, and meaningful spaces in Judaism. While German, Israeli, and American Jews live far apart, our needs are quite similar. We are all from the same people and while we may have different accents and live in different cities, we all face a growing trend: the need for diverse entry points into Judaism. We can no longer rely on the necessity of prayer and keeping mitzvot to do all the work. We need good people who are creative and passionate, and dream of creating a Judaism that belongs to all Jews – not just those who actively choose it. By finding a need in a Jewish community and finding a solution that provides a unique and exciting Jewish experience, Aviva, Binah, Almah, Hillel and many others are setting the tone for what Jewish institutions should aim to achieve. By creating diverse entry points into the religion, they allow for more Jews to connect to and find meaning in their identity.
At Columbia/Barnard Hillel, I am currently Peer Network Engagement Intern (PNEI) and a co-chair of KOACH, the Conservative Egalitarian Jewish group on campus. Both of these roles allow me to practice what I find meaningful in Judaism: broadening the Jewish spectrum, allowing Judaism to be relatable and approachable to all. This is what I believe is the future of Judaism – finding the gray zones in what can seem like a black and white religion. This trend towards progressive and open Judaism means international Jewry has the potential to be more united than ever before. That is why I started The Grey Zone Blog, an online space where people talk about how their Jewish identity and practice is not black and white, but gray, allowing Judaism to stay relevant to everyone. The need for gray zones in Judaism is, ironically, not a gray area at all, rather it is a must The Grey Zone Blog shows that we all live Judaism in the Grey Zone.
Deborah Pollack is a student at Barnard College.
