ish.

"Ish."

This was the emphasized syllable when answered the question of "Are you Jewish?" my response was " yeah, I'm Jewish."
I was a Jew, but I was Jewish. I identified as one of the "chosen people" but a) had no clue what that meant and the responsibilities that it entailed and b) I didn't even really care about it. Being Jewish made my different than all of my peers in a way that made me noticeable and drew attention to me in ways that I was not expecting.
 I was never ashamed of being a Jew and being Jewish has always been important for me but the emphasis was always on the "ish".  I was a Jew...-ish. I had no idea what keeping kosher meant, why Rosh Hashana and Yom Kippur were important, why Shabbat was important, more importantly what even was Shabbat?! I didn't know. I grew up in a home that was very firm in its Jewish identity, we're proud Jews who love Israel - no Channukah bushes in my house!

We went to our Reform synagogue on the High Holy Days but there was never any explanation of why were were doing this. There was never an explanation of why these things were important in Sunday School and the Rabbi never said anything that explained it either. So I lived in a vacuum of knowing that these things were important but not understanding enough to even know the right questions to ask. The main reason that was brought down was tradition. Yet at Sunday School it seemed as though Jewish life didn't even start until the late 1800's with the Zionist movement.

I grew up surrounded by divsersity of thought, religion, expression and culture. Being in that environment inspired me to grow and question in ways that I might not have otherwise. The people that I surrounded myself with were inquisitive about themselves, about other cultures, and about other systems of thinking. Often I would be the only person who was in a minority religious group. It some times created tension because I would have to be the representative for all Jews. I would be asked by teachers to speak out the Holocaust because I must know someone who was a Survivor. When I was younger it didn't really bother me because I just assumed that this was my role in the world. I was there to help educate people, even my teachers, about my religion and culture because they just didn't know. As I grew up the people grew less inquisitive and I became less willing to educate people about something I felt that that they should know about. My thought process was that I knew about their religion, in fact I knew more about Christianity at that point than I knew about Judaism and it wasn't sitting well with me. As I became less willing to educate I noticed that people were ignorant or just down right rude, or worse. I clung solidly onto this idea that I was Jewish. I didn't have to always identify as this minority, I could be just like everyone else. If I just muted the Jewish part of myself I could fit in and be accepted by others. There would be no awkward questioning of why I did things or why certain holidays were important to me. People could just accept me as me, not as something that was different than them.

It didn't work.

The "ish" didn't save me. It didn't even try. It just hung there limply, impotently at the end of the word. Jewish. What does the -ish even mean. I am not Jewish. I am a Jew. I can trace my ancestors back to the oldest continuous civilization in the world. Why was I ashamed at the time to claim this aspect of who I am? Was it  the interactions that I had in high school with ignorant people or did it start earlier?Earlier when I learned in school that it wasn't as cool to celebrate Channukah as it was to have a Xmas tree ? I'm still not sure, but I know I hung onto the "ish" for longer than I needed to. It was a life preserver when I had no clue what the answer was to a question about Judaism. For example, why aren't Jews supposed to eat bacon or what's the deal with Yom Kippur and Rosh HaShana? I knew enough to answer these questions a) there's something in Judaism called kosher and pigs ain't kosh b) Rosh HaShana is the Jewish New Year and Yom Kippur is the Day of Atonement. These questions I could answer reasonably well, I can now answer them far more effectively, but the answers were vague, uncertain, and when all else failed I would just say that I was Jew"ish" and didn't really know.

I hid behind this "ish" until I went to Israel for the first time. For the first time I saw Jews, thousands and thousand of Jews doing very normal things like going to the grocery store while wearing things l a kippot. I was already in love with Israel, I knew that it was the Jewish home. I wanted something more. I wanted to feel some sense of connection when I was here. Something that would root me to this nation, to this place in a way that I couldn't describe. That moment didn't really come with the sense of relief  that I wanted. It came with an overwhelming sensation that I knew nothing about my religion. That thing that I was proud of, that my parents spent who-knows-how-much-money on my Hebrew School education, the thing that in some ways defined me. So what happened was, I felt inspired: by the reality of Israel and how people were bringing Judaism to life in Israel. Yet what I felt most clearly the cognitive dissonance of being a Jew and knowing nothing about Judaism. I walked away from my first trip to Israel knowing that this would not be my last time here and that I needed to know more.

One of the beauties of Israel is that things happen here in a way that gives you exactly what you need in that moment. As I was struggling with this issue on my birthright trip. I went to a speech by Neil Lazurus. He identified this exact issue within American Jewry. That we have latched onto this "ish", we call ourselves cultural Jews, Jews with a lower-case j, or you know the "bagels and lox crowd". There is a disconnect between who we are and how we identify ourselves. The two are inextricably linked though. Yet, we attempt to create a distance at least mentally to help ourselves connect and assimilate into the mainstream culture. This "ish" is so representative of how so many people feel towards Judaism and it's heartbreaking. So many in my generation and even the one before it feel so disconnected from what it truly means to be a Jew.

So, I learned and the more I learned the more I realized I love being a Jew and Judaism for everything that it is and the connection that it gives me to the past, my present, and generations to come. It was and is incredibly difficult doing something that goes against what my friends were doing, what my family were doing. I had to do something for me.

 So, I decided that I couldn't do it anymore.I cast aside the "ish" and a whole lot of negativity and claimed myself, my whole self, for myself. I became a proud Jew instead of someone who is Jew"ish" and I have never looked back.