Taglit Birthright: Coming to terms with my Jewish identity in 10 days

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“The value of identity, of course, is that so often with it comes purpose” – Richard Grant

“The value of identity, of course, is that so often with it comes purpose.”Richard Grant

For years, I had struggled with my Jewish identity. What does it mean to be Jewish? Am I practicing Judaism because I want to or because it’s all I’ve ever known? Through my experience on Taglit Birthright in 2019, a free 10-day tour trip around Israel designed to introduce secular Jews to Judaism and Israel, I’ve come closer to answering these questions.

Now, to tell you the truth, I wasn’t very qualified to go on Birthright. Firstly, Birthright runs solely on philanthropists and donations. In order to get the bang for their buck, they cater to unaffiliated Jews. According to their official website, they advertise as “an educational trip that ensures every eligible young Jewish adult around the world, especially the less connected… to connect to their past, present, and future.”

I’m an Orthodox Jew who was raised by two Orthodox Jews in a community for Orthodox Jews. Simply put, I’m not their first choice. Secondly, I had already been to Israel. Birthright’s mission is to introduce secular Jewish Americans to Israel, not give free trips to religious girls. Miraculously, I snagged a place on the trip, and boy am I grateful!

The plane took off with a turbulent start. The morning of my outbound flight from John F. Kennedy airport in New York, my grandfather passed away.

During their 10-day trip, members of the Taglit Birthright delegation traveled North to South, hiked Masada, visited Mount Herzl and prayed at the Western Wall. (credit: MIRI WEISSMAN)

I spent most of my flight regretting the choice to go on the trip, but ultimately his passing strengthened my drive to find the answers to my questions. What better place to try to understand my Jewish identity than Israel? And who better to keep in mind on my journey to self-discovery than my grandfather, a God-fearing descendant of World War II refugees who lived his life with honesty and integrity?

A profound activity

And so I began, with a stiff upper lip and brave determination, to unpack my identity. One of the first instances that brought me face to face with these questions was when our trip leader set up an activity in the dining hall of our hotel. The activity went as follows: A question would be asked. All those who agreed would go to the right side of the hall; all those who disagreed would go to the left; and all those who were indifferent or didn’t know would stay in the middle.

The question was: Do you believe Jews should only marry other Jews? Naively, I thought the answer was obvious. Of course, Jews should only marry other Jews! How else will the Jewish people continue? To my surprise, 95% of the 40 people on the trip went to the left side of the hall.

I stood there, in the middle of the room, in shock. In hindsight, I’m pretty disappointed in myself that I stayed in the middle of the room and didn’t go to the right to defend my position. But give me a break, I was the youngest person on the trip by a long shot and was simply too stunned to formulate a coherent sentence. In my mind, it was simple.

According to the Jewish People Policy Institute (JPPI), right now in America (excluding the ultra-Orthodox population), about 58% of married Jews ranging from age 25 to 54 are intermarried. Married Jews ranging from age 30 to 34 hold the highest rate of intermarriage at a whopping 75%. If this were to continue at the rate it’s going, in only a couple of generations, ultra-Orthodoxy will be the only sect of Judaism left in America. This is the exact reason Birthright exists, to facilitate an understanding of the importance of a Jewish presence in America. However, after listening to a few opinions from the left side of the hall, I began to understand what being Jewish meant to people.

One girl described her positive upbringing in an interfaith home. A Christmas tree adorned with blue and white menorah ornaments on Hanukkah, attending synagogue only during the High Holy Days, taking out Chinese food on Christmas Eve: a completely stereotypical Reform Judaism interfaith household.

One boy discussed how he felt disconnected from his Jewish grandfather and not really “Jewish” because he didn’t have a bar mitzvah, so he doesn’t feel obligated to marry a Jewish girl.

Another kid said he is “more Jewish” than the first guy because he did have a bar mitzvah, but he doesn’t believe in God, so he’s not really sure what category he’d fall into now; therefore, he doesn’t believe that Jews should always marry Jews.

What bothered me so much about their answers was how many people thought they weren’t really Jewish because they hadn’t performed the traditional milestones of a Jewish life cycle.

After all, according to the 1935 Nuremberg Laws, if one had only one Jewish grandparent from each parent, he was classified as having Jewish blood and therefore unfit to marry into German society. None of these kids on my Birthright trip would have been allowed to marry into German society in the 1930s. And yet, here they were, in 2019, saying that they would marry outside of their faith.

Of course, non-Jews then are not non-Jews today, and we are no longer persecuted to that extent. However, we lost six million Jews in the Holocaust and even more since then due to intermarriage.

For me, to marry a non-Jew today is to forget our history. It made me realize just how different my upbringing had been compared to theirs.

They did not grow up listening to their grandparents’ war stories about their struggle to keep their traditions in the camps. I asked myself why would these kids value their Jewish legacy? They didn’t even know if they were considered Jewish. Taking this all in, I began to understand that one cannot answer this question without first defining what a Jew is.

What does it mean to be Jewish?

Is it a race like the Nazis thought? It can’t be because one cannot convert to a race, but one can convert to Judaism. Is it a religion? It can’t be just that because according to traditional Judaism, a Jew is a Jew is a Jew, meaning if one is born to a Jewish mother, he is Jewish, no matter his belief. Even if he converts to another religion, traditional Judaism does not consider that legitimate; he will always remain Jewish.

So if it’s not a tangible thing like race and it’s not an intangible thing like religion, what is it? I’ve come to realize that Judaism is a family. It sounds cheesy, but it is the only solution that solves both problems. One can join a family easily by marrying in; and whether or not he wants it to be, the family one is born into is his family. So that’s really what it’s all about. The question was: Do you believe Jews should only marry other Jews? What it really was asking was: Do you want to continue the Jewish family?

This question stuck in my mind the entire remainder of the trip. We traveled North to South, hiked Masada, visited Mount Herzl, prayed at the Western Wall and much more. All along, I was piecing together the history of our family.

How the Romans, after destroying Jerusalem in 70 A.D., sieged Masada and brought about the deaths of the last community of Judean rebels (960 including women and children).

How thousands of 18-year-old boys and girls buried at Mount Herzl died to defend our family’s right to this land. How millions of people from hundreds of generations came from all over the world to pour out their heart at the Western Wall in supplication to a higher power.

I realized, finally, maybe for the first time in my life, that, yes, I want to continue the Jewish family; and, no, I am not practicing Judaism because it’s all I’ve ever known but because I want to. ■

Miri Weissman made aliyah from New Jersey in 2020. She performed her National Service as a tour guide on Mount Herzl. She is currently a student at Bar-Ilan University, studying political science and communications.