Shalom Chaverim -
My first job as a Jewish professional was the Birthright Israel Coordinator at the Hillel at the University of Texas-Austin. My job was simple: Recruit eighty Jewish kids to go on a Birthright Israel trip twice a year, staff the trips, and keep the kids engaged when they return. One of my many responsibilities was to conduct interviews of each applicant to ensure they qualified for the trip. To qualify, one only needed a single Jewish parent (either the mother or the father) and needed to “identify as Jewish.” I knew every kid who applied or came to know them through a referral so the interviews were mostly a formality. Eventually, we’d get to the question of: “Do you identify as Jewish?” Other than the obvious “Yes” I got from those with strong Jewish backgrounds and identities, that somewhat innocuous question carried a lot of weight. Many answers I received came in the form of:
“Umm, yes?”
“I grew up Jewish.”
“I guess so. I don’t keep kosher and didn’t have a bar mitzvah.”
“Ya, but like culturally.”
Those answering the questions always delivered their answers through some form of tenuous, hesitant, or nervous tone. Each variant showcased some underlying belief on what it meant to be Jewish to them. Now, years later, the one response I think of the most is, “Ya, but like culturally,” always said with some tone that conveyed they knew they were Jewish, but not enough to cross some arbitrary threshold into a zone only reserved for those that regularly attended Shabbat services or fasted on Yom Kippur. There seemed to be some demarcation line that existed between those that considered themselves “Reform” and those who considered themselves “culturally Jewish” whereby the former felt that innate right to call themselves Jewish while the latter felt compelled to denote that on the spectrum of observance denominations, they didn’t even make the cut.
Since October 7th, there has been a new surge in Jews who considered themselves only “culturally Jewish” who wish to become more—to earn the right to shed that Scarlet C—so as to not be included with other “cultural Jews” who have aligned themselves with our enemies. To ensure they feel like they’ve “earned” their place in a denomination to avoid any accusation of being in the same group as the “AsAJew” members of the tribe. I am here to say, we have it all wrong. Every one of us should aspire to become culturally Jewish.
When my wife and I travelled to Israel over New Year’s, we spent Friday lunch with my family in Tel Aviv. She had never met them, and it was the perfect opportunity to gather as many people as possible. It was truly a dream come true after almost ten years of being together. As the late afternoon transitioned into early evening, and the only ones left were the family who lived in the house, my cousin turned the TV onto one of Israel’s news channels. With Shabbat approaching, my wife turned to my cousin and asked if their three kids, all of whom were over twenty years old and lived somewhere in Tel Aviv, did Shabbat dinner with them every week. My cousin’s response reinforced what so many of us know about Israelis.
“Do we light the candles and do the wine? No, but the kids eat dinner with us.”
“Every week?” My wife asked the kids
Each of the three kids responded in some way affirming with various exceptions, of course. At that moment, all I could think to myself was: “This is what it means to be culturally Jewish.”
My cousins are all the classic, liberal, “secular” Jews of Tel Aviv, but every Friday night, they make sure to gather around for a family dinner. Is that not the point of the Shabbat dinner? Sure, lighting the candles, saying the kiddish, and eating the challah are important rituals, but is the meaning—the purpose—of Shabbat not to gather with our families and rest? To pause? If we had to choose between the symbols and the practice, would we not all say the latter is more important than the former? To be religiously Jewish is to light the candles, say the kiddish, and eat the challah. To be culturally Jewish is to ensure that no matter where you are, you come home for dinner and eat with your family. To be religiously Jewish is to ensure you don’t turn the lights on. To be culturally Jewish is to pause after a long week and rest with your loved ones.
“Every one of us should aspire to become culturally Jewish.”
For my entire life, I’ve never kept kosher. I’ve never understood it. It’s the one thing in Judaism that no rabbi has ever been able to explain the meaning behind the rule nor why we should keep it in the modern age. Certainly, the additional Halachic necessities of ensuring the chemicals included in Coca-Cola always made me wonder what the purpose of kashrut beyond the forbidden animals ever actually was. That changed when I went to Mexico City where the pork and shellfish were mighty plenty. Unlike my wife, who has never eaten either, I indulged in all of the local cuisine. Then, one night, I found myself standing in front of a chalkboard sign listing the various specials. After translating each one of them, I learned that all but one was pork.
In that moment, I looked around at the locals and realized that this was not my culture. It’s not a matter of good or bad, better or worse, but simply different. In Mexican culture, eating pork held no weight. In Jewish culture, eating pork was heavy. Even for my own parents, who happily kept their dairy and meat items in the same refrigerator drawer, cooking and serving pork to us as a main dish was too far. There was something about serving a pork chop and ham in our home that always felt weird. As I peered around, watching everyone eat various parts of the pig topped with incredible salsas and a tequila to sip on, I felt equally strange about all the forms that pork could be served as and gave them all up. Every Jew who doesn’t keep strict kosher has some type of version of this. Some will eat non-kosher meat out of the house while others decide to simply be a vegetarian when eating out. Many will eat shellfish (like me) and many will only eat kosher animals. Regardless of how one does it, there is a cultural practice in not eating some foods. The choices are all different, but we’re all choosing from the same menu of what not to eat, and that menu is Judaism.
Culture refers to the collective beliefs, values, customs, and practices that characterize a particular group or society. Celebrating the new year sometime between September and October, instead of on January 1st, is a cultural celebration as much as it is a religious one. Building and eating inside of a sukkah is a cultural custom that leads to fulfilling the religious obligation. Lighting candles for Hanukkah instead of decorating a Christmas tree is a cultural ritual even more than a religious one given Hanukkah’s “second-tier” status in the pantheon of the chagim. Giving to charity is a cultural value derived from the religious commandment. Amongst all the various groups of Jews—Ashkenazi, Sephardic, Mizrachi, Yemenite, etc.—is the thing that binds us not our shared beliefs, values, customs, and practices?
Whether one is Ashkenazi or Sephardic, neither of us eat pork. Whether our families come from Tehran or Paris, both will eat a meal together on Friday night. Whether we believe the Maccabees defeated the Greeks by divine intervention or purely by strong will, both of us will celebrate their victory by lighting candles.
As more Jews decide to strengthen their connection with Judaism, I can only pray that their bond becomes so strong that they become culturally Jewish.
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