Mental Basement

by Nat Lavin

Yesterday, I returned from Birthright Israel. I can honestly say that no blog entry could possibly do the amazing experience justice.

About two weeks ago, I was leaving New Orleans to spend a few days in DC before heading off to Israel. I was being driven to the airport by my best friend and his girlfriend. The girlfriend, “TG,” has a Jewish roommate, and two Jewish suitemates. She, however, is Catholic. I made a comment to her, something to the effect of, “Why don’t you just tell them you’re Jewish and come along on the trip! It’ll be awesome” and she responded something to the effect of “No thanks. I can’t stand the Jewish people any longer.”

It was a moment for me where I was so offended, I didn’t really know how to respond. In her defense, I knew where she was coming from. He roommates are not exactly welcoming of her Catholicism (her roommate thought she was doing her a favor by allowing Christmas decorations in the room). Her roommate also got offended at TG’s use of the word “Jew,” not even in some sort of bigoted context. She got offended at TG saying something like, “My roommate is a Jew”. The fact that anyone could think “Jew” is an offensive word is beyond me, and the amount of shame and self-loathing you must have as a Jew to find that word offensive is sickening. I say this for two reasons. TG’s comments, although horribly bigoted and offensive, and certainly a little broad, were somewhat founded. The Jews she knows the best and spends the most time with are horribly misguided and annoying. Secondly, it shows what a horrible sense of Jewish identity many Jews in the US have today.

I finally responded to TG by saying “um….I’m a Jew”. She and her boyfriend both argued back, “Yeah Nat, but you’re not a real Jew.”

I was, again, deeply offended, but I really had no way to respond. What makes me a Jew? My mother is Catholic. I don’t believe in God. I haven’t been to a synagogue since sophomore year of high school. At the time, I silently decided they were right. I wasn’t a real Jew.

About 3 days later I boarded a plane for Israel. I sat between two kids who would end up being on my bus, one from Tulane, and the other from American University [in DC]. We didn’t know each other well, and we were all very tired. There was not a lot of talking on the flight.  We landed in Tel Aviv and went through immigration and customs. We got on our bus, and headed for a hotel just outside of Tel Aviv on the Mediterranean Sea.

The next day we saw some of the sights in Tel Aviv and then drove to Jerusalem. As we got to Jerusalem, we stopped at a pavilion on top of a cliff, overlooking the city. I have two distinct memories of that moment. The first was, “I feel nothing.” The second: “Someone in my family would probably want a picture of this anyway.” It was not a bad looking city at all. In fact, it was beautiful. Everything was made of limestone. Every building looked beautiful.  The city certainly has a unique aesthetic.

That night we were taken to hear the former president of Hillel speak. I remember thinking it was going to be a waste of time, but what he said may very well have been life-changing for me.

” ‘Jewish’ is NOT a religion!” In order to get the point across again, he yelled it again. “‘JEWISH’ IS NOT A RELIGION.” He spent the next hour or so talking to us about how there are plenty of secular Jews in Israel, and they are all just as welcome. He made a metaphor about how Judaism as a whole can be compared to a table with 5 legs. Each one of those legs represents something different. For example, one of those legs was religion, another was Israel, another was a sense of Jewish memory (and/or history). His point was that a table made for five legs will still stand with only 3. There’s no such thing as a “bad Jew”. He talked to us about “converted Jews”. I didn’t know this, but apparently, it is against Jewish law to remind someone who converts to the religion that they are a convert. The phrase “converted Jew” refers to a Jew who converts to another religion. He said something like “Yeah….that guy may think he’s a Catholic…..what a sucker”. He talked about how Judaism really only became strictly a religion in the time since World War II. He let me know that no matter how I felt about God or religion, I was still a Jew. I was still a Jew and I was still welcome in Israel.

The next day we walked through old Jerusalem. I saw the Western wall from a distance and felt nothing. I walked down to where the wall was and was suddenly hit by a wave of….I don’t know what. For that brief moment though, I believed in God. Perhaps that’s not the best way to put it. It’s not that I believed in God, its that I couldn’t not believe in God. I thought back on Jewish history. An unbroken chain of Jewish families and cultures and for that moment, refused to believe that Abraham and Moses made it up. They saw something. They talked to something. Maybe it wasn’t some supreme, infallible creator of all existence, but they saw something.

I walked closer to the Western Wall, wondering if I was “Jewish enough” to touch it, despite the pep-talk the night before. As I was about 20 feet from the wall, a Rabbi saw me, and could tell I was American.  He rushed up to me, and extended his hand for a handshake. I shook it, and that’s when he said words that I know will always resonate in my head for the rest of my life. This rabbi whom I had never met, mere feet away from the holiest sight a Jew can visit, looked me in the eyes and said “Welcome Home.”.

He offered me anything I needed to pray at the wall. At the time I was horribly confused about God, so I opted out of prayer, but the Rabbi was so clearly still thrilled that I was there. He left me to stand at the wall in peace and collect my thoughts. I saw people shove notes in the cracks of the wall, and part of me wanted to. The other part of me decided I should leave space for those who know they believe in God. I listened to the latter voice in my head.

I then thought back, with bitter disdain to what TG and her boyfriend had told me less than a week earlier. “You’re not a real Jew.”. Those words only offended me more now. I was now sure, more than ever, that I was a Jew. I was never more welcomed in the house of a family member than I was in the land of Israel. I walked to the holiest sight a Jew could visit, and a complete stranger welcomed me home. I think I’ll trust the Israeli Rabbi at the Western Wall over the Catholic college kids from Missouri.  I am a Jew, and I am damn proud of it.