My Jewish journey has been defined by two central questions: where do I fit within Judaism, and where does Judaism fit within my life? Through nineteen years of Jewish experiences, I’ve slowly pieced together the answers to these questions.
At the core of my insecurity lies the fact that a majority of my family is not Jewish. While both my mother and her mother are, making me halachically Jewish, my other three grandparents are not. I was raised immersed in Jewish tradition—but with only one of my four grandparents being Jewish, it sometimes feels like there is an asterisk next to my claim to Jewishness. Simply because of my genetic makeup, I’ve often felt less Jewish than others.
Judaism’s role in my life began taking shape from an early age. At seven years old I listened to my rabbi recount the story of creation. After she finished the story, I asked, “Rabbi Miriam, when in the story did dinosaurs exist?” She explained that I had a choice: either I could believe in religion, or I could believe in science. From then on, I knew that following the laws of the Torah wasn’t going to make up a big part of Jewishness in my life.
In the early years of my life, my family gathered at my great-grandmother’s home every Friday night for Shabbat. I attended after-school Jewish studies classes all throughout elementary school and I spent a year studying for my bat mitzvah. As my siblings and I neared adolescence, my great-grandmother passed away, and these Shabbat dinners faded from our routines. I lost any ability to read Hebrew and my connection to the customs of Shabbat dwindled.
Entering teenagehood, I felt deeply ashamed that my connection to Judaism was dwindling; of what I saw as my failures to celebrate Shabbat and engage with Hebrew. This feeling was only compounded by what I sometimes saw as my only being half Jewish. I winced whenever I told people that I celebrate Christmas and Hanukkah: the ultimate two-timing betrayal.
I grew more conscious of my cultural connection to Judaism as I studied for my Bat Mitzvah and took part in other Jewish traditions. In my teenage years, I began committing myself more to the high holidays: fasting for Yom Kippur and attending services at my egalitarian non-affiliated synagogue. The Danforth Jewish Circle, a joyful and welcoming space, showed me how different people can find their own ways to lead meaningful Jewish lives.
I came to see the high holidays as an opportunity to experience community, reflection, and self-improvement. At services, I listened attentively and internalized the values of gratitude, kindness, and learning they instilled in me. I began understanding the cultural role that I wanted Judaism to play in my life. Yet I still struggled to understand how I fit into Judaism.
In my first year at McGill, I spent more time than ever exploring Jewish spaces. I went to Shabbat services and dinners at Chabad and Hillel, attended many a Klezmer show, helped organize a Seder in residence, and integrated myself into Jewish social circles. As I connected with other Jewish students and attended Jewish events, I no longer wondered where I fit into Judaism and the feeling of being an imposter faded away.
I embraced learning rather than feeling insecure about a lack of Jewish knowledge. My comfort in Jewish spaces grew as I recognized more faces at every event and became familiar with new elements of Jewish culture. I had incredibly meaningful experiences and felt the genuine warmth of community.
As I continue to immerse myself in Jewish spaces, I learn what fuels my connection to Judaism: the feeling of belonging that comes from taking part in collective tradition and being part of a community. When I light the Hanukkah candles with my family, and now with my friends, I am connected both to them and to generations of Jews across the diaspora. Whatever form Judaism takes in my future, I am certain that it will remain a source of warmth, joy, and meaning.
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