Two
monthes ago, I was in Brazil.
There,
some of the locals were excited by the fact that I’m JEWISH.
“He’s
a jew also” they said while pointing at a guy.
There
was no racist intent in that gesture.
“We
don’t have a lot of *you* here”
Their
intention was honestly naïve and pure hearted – to give me a connection with
someone here, away from home.
I
understood it, but still, for the first time in my life, I felt BAD with this
branding – A JEW.
Maybe
“felt bad” is an overstatement; I’ll try explaining it better.
Israel
is my home. Here all of us, or at least, most of us are jewish.
WE
have our own bigotry within the jewish community, because it is obvious to us
that we are all jews.
I
never thought as myself like that – a jew.
I
grew up as one on jewish customs and traditions, and even more important by my
eyes – jewish heritage, but I never gave a second thought on that I’m a jew.
When
that issue was raised in Brazil, I thought how I define myself:
Gil à Israeli à
HP worker à designer à
artist à jew
Somehow,
my “jewish” essence was dropped to the bottom of the list.
I
thought on that, and wrinkled my face. It made me think.
I
never felt different because I’m a jew. Even though there was no intention in
hurting me, the casual way those things were said made my stomach twist with
recollections of a darker time in the world.
---
For
those of you who know me, and for those who don’t I want to emphasize a point:
I
love Judaism and it is important to me to be Jewish.
Not in the sense of wearing a yamaka, kissing
a Mezuza or putting on Tfilin.
I
grew in a family that fought on Israel since the British mendate.
I’m
a third generation to the holocaust survivor who’s the sole survivor of the
town Kunov.
I’m a son, to a father that fought in almost
every war Israel had.
All
of them, the ones before me, that I am the sum of all their parts were jews,
that believed in a safe haven for jews , because out there is bad for us.
For some
worst then others, but the conclusion was the same – here is our place.
I am
far from being orthodox.
I
don’t believe that not fulfilling all of gods commands makes me less of a jew
than the orthodox jews in Jerusalem, Zefat or any other place.
But
this thing creates a paradox within me, and I’ll elaborate.
I don’t
eat kosher food, and I love to eat what I want.
I’m a
man of heritage, and that is why I don’t eat bread in Passover and why I fest
in Yom Kippur.
Not
because I am a believer, but because this is what makes these days to be sacred
– different from ordinary days.
Last
Passover, I met with friends in Tel-Aviv.
I am
well aware of the fact, that more and more people eat Hametz in Passover, but
when I sat with my friend in the restaurant, I ordered a dish with no bread and
gave up the beer.
Next
to me, were a father and a son, ravaging a hot dog in a warm bun.
I
thought of myself, and my childhood.
I
can say many thing about my parents but this much I owe them: I think they
raised me right.
They
raised me with affiliation to Jewish customs and culture, but with enough self-awareness
so I could choose my own path when I grow up – whether to keep this “religious”
path or choose another.
So when
I sat next to this kid, I thought that maybe we lost our way as a society.
I
mean, do what you want in your own house, but in public, it might hurt or offend
other people and shouting to them: “who are you? I’ll do what I want, so fuck yourselves
and bring me more ketchup”
I
don’t think that not eating Hametz in Passover is religious coercion. I don’t
think it’s so difficult – when I see this kid eating the bun like he never ate
bread in his life, in Passover, here in thin moment, maybe here, with the disregard
to the heritage and customs from this young age, maybe here, is our descent.
---
Tomorrow
is holocaust remembrance day. As usual it’s a “holiday” to me.
I
can’t expect it to be important and symbolic to everyone.
But
it hurts me to see that every year it loses its importance and vitality to the
generations that follow mine.
Maybe
I’m too old already, and it was easier for my generation and me to “connect” to
the holocaust because we grew up with those giants who survived the holocaust.
There
is no doubt, that being a third generation to a holocaust survivor messes with
your head.
The
holocaust became an obsession to me and it occupies my thought on ordinary days
too.
I’ll
try leaving my personal connection to the holocaust, and take a step back to
get a wider perspective for a moment.
I
believe that most people miss the essence of holocaust remembrance day – it’s a
day that symbolizes so much more than only genocide.
It’s
a day that talks about love, hate and courage.
It’s
a day that talks about accepting the other and the different.
It
talks about the limits (good and bad) that we, the human race can get to.
All
of these are life lessons, that we as a society must take with us, take it in
and walk with it to the horizon.
When
I was 17 I was in Poland with the school delegation, we were in a remembrance
room in Auschwitz and we held a ceremony there.
Everyone
cried.
I
didn’t.
Holocaust
is a painful, though and crewel subject – and yes, tears come easy.
But
the problem is, that in Israel the Holocaust is TABOO – people cry in Auschwitz
because… well… it’s the holocaust, we need to cry.
I
don’t think we need to shed more tears – I think we cried enough tears to drown
the entire country several times over.
No. This
is not what needs to be done.
We
need to hold our head high with pride, fill our lungs with air and march
forward to find new ways to pass this days message and essence.
We
need to go out of the regular pattern of generic commemorative ceremonies and
think of ways more sophisticated, interesting and most of all contemporary to
convey this essence and message of the holocaust to children, teenagers and
even adults.
So
we can remember – but in this rate of things it is soon to be forgotten.
