Generation Next Speech

I was asked to make a 5 minute speech at an event called Generation Next. It was from the perspective of 6 very different Jewish youths, with very different backgrounds. We had to discuss how we fit into the Jewish world, what our religion means to us, and what we think the community needs to do in the future. I have added the "translations" of terms in brackets. This is my story.

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I started thinking about this speech one Friday evening while I was walking to my sister for Shabbat (the Sabbath). We chatted about it at the dinner table, but soon got distracted by other topics – things like the parsha (the Torah/bible story of the week), the fact that it’s almost Pesach (a Jewish festival) time; and that I have finally found the perfect place to build my first Sukkah (an element you create at a Jewish festival) this year. After dinner, I walked home again, significantly fuller, got into bed and went to sleep.

I woke up with a start in the morning as my alarm went off. But I was way to lazy to go for a run, so I hit snooze a few times. Finally I dragged myself out of bed, made a cup of coffee and called my mom. She couldn’t chat for long because she was off to shul (synagogue). So I got out my lap top, did some work, but lost track of time and whipped on a skirt and top and rushed off to my shul, Chabad (a very religious group of Jews), and prayed like a good Yiddishe Maidel (good Jewish girl).

All in all, I am what some may call a secular 26 year old girl, with an exceptionally frum (religious) 50 year old woman named Ester Faiga trapped inside her, trying to claw her way out.

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There is so much about Judaism that draws me in. But unless you want to sit here for an hour or 5 listening to me, I am just going to mention two.

Firstly, it’s the community. You’re never alone. There is always someone there for you. Be it just a person from the shul who invites you for Shabbos, a rabbi or rebbetzin (a rabbi's wife) who you feel you can talk to, and even the network Jewish institutions, which are there for you when you need them most. You are part of an incredible community, which is something people long for.

And secondly, there’s a structure to life. It’s like a clearly defined path, but no matter how far you may stray from it, it’s always there for you when you want to get back on. Things like Shabbos and Chaggim (festivals) make up some of the biggest stepping stones on that path. We take it for granted and don’t realise how lucky we are. It was only made apparent to me when a Non-Jewish co-worker said that he was going to choose a night of the week, give it a fancy name, and force his family to come together, because it was something he lacked in his life.

That said, there are a lot of things I don’t do.

Just two of those are big ones - I don’t keep Shabbat 100% and I’m not Kosher (Jewish dietary laws). I want to and I could – I know all the laws - but I am just not ready for it right now. I don’t believe that you or anyone else can force religion on to you when you aren’t ready,  because eventually you’ll fall off the wagon.

Learning about something and knowing that you’re not ready to take it on is one thing. But the deeper issue is when people simply don’t understand a topic, so they think it’s not right for them. The issue is that there is so much to Judaism that you just can’t understand – either ever, or until you experience it.

I experienced this first-hand when my dad died 18 months ago. I felt like my life had come to a stand still. I didn’t know how I could carry on living in a world without him. I didn’t know how to move forward.

The Jewish Mourning Laws after a parent’s death are very intense for a full year – filled with heavy restrictions on what you can and can’t do.

I learnt about it at school – but I never really understood it.  It didn’t make sense to me. It felt so old fashioned and irrelevant. The thought of taking on all of these responsibilities as a 24 year old, seemed overwhelming and if I’m honest, impossible.

But I was so wrong.

It was the community’s support, but more importantly, the mourning structure that gave me a way to move forward. It gave me direction. It sounds bizarre, but the limitations did two things:

It showed me, pretty much by force, how to live - without fear that I’d do the wrong thing or disrespect his honour. And secondly, the limitation worked as a constant reminder of what had happened – I wasn’t given a moment to deny or forget it – which ultimately, helped me accept and cope with losing my dad.

Learning about the mourning practices would never have prepared me for the understanding I gained through experience. I think of this as the micro-example of religion as a greater whole. You don’t always understand why you do something, but it’s there for a reason.

What I’ve learnt is not to let the stuff that I don’t understand or that I’m not ready for scare me away from Judaism. Right now, I don’t fit into any particular religious box – and maybe I never will. But as long as I keep learning and growing in my own way, I don’t think that’s a problem.

And I think that’s what communities need to bring out in people. The focus shouldn’t be about making people more religious, but rather making them proud to be Jewish. Because at the end of the day, you don’t have to be religious, to be a part of your religion.

It’s not about watering down Judaism so that it fits in to your life – it’s figuring out who you are, to find where you fit into Judaism.