Who are we?

Jewish American, American Jew?

When the United States joined Israel in the war against Iran, I wrote a blog post as I applauded proudly our country joining Israel’s defense yet worried as a concerned citizen about the consequences of yet another far away war on our already beleaguered and divided nation.

And as the weeks and now months passed, I wrestled with my dual identities, my allegiances, my responsibilities, my obligations to both.

So it was fortuitous that my husband and I had already registered for this years’s Community Leadership Program at the Shalom Hartman Institute in Israel.

And not just fortuitous as it turned out, but opportune, and, yes, comforting, as the theme for this year’s study was confronting my difficult conundrum.

And I was not alone.

With a week’s worth of intensive lectures, discussions, conversations, addressing this troubling reality for American Jews today, I left with ever more questions, but ever more understanding of the conflicted context within which so many American Jews find ourselves, and the immensely complex realities it presents.

The theme of the program was Confident Identities in a Divided World, which, what I was feeling then was not nearly as confident in either – as the war raged, as the number of Palestinian casualties rose, as Israel routed ever more of its perpetrators, as the pro Palestinian voices grew louder, as they gained an even larger presence on social media and beyond, as antisemitism increased, as the settlements became battle grounds, as Israel was targeted as the oppressor, and gradually denigrated as a pariah – I was feeling much more confident in who I am by program’s end.

My conflicted identities – no matter how ardently I held each – now seemed to be not adversaries but two separate but intrinsic parts of me.

And they were not necessarily competing, but coexisting, if often not compatible, in the current world.

And so, I listened, and I learned. I questioned, I discussed, with the more than 200 other program participants, delving into each layer as a Jew, as a citizen, as a friend, a neighbor.

Probing ancient text and more contemporary sources, we looked at our identities, at how they were informed by our values, our loyalties, our obligations, to ourselves and others.

And wrestled with the questions they raise, who are we, where do we stand, what do we owe each other?

Over the next few weeks, as I unpack the richness of our learning, discussing, questioning, I’ll share insights gleaned, understandings deepened, questions raised.

I came away with a heightened appreciation for the wisdom of our tradition, for the framework it provides for discursive conversation, for multiple readings of a story, for deeper enlightened thinking.

It opens up space for finding ways to put aside our differences, our disagreements, to listen more, to speak less, to quietly reflect, consider, allow different perspectives to dwell in our minds at the same time.

And so, as I continue to process my time in Israel this summer, I feel a glimmer of hope, for our ability to confront the challenging issues that trouble us, to allow the past to propel us ever forward, as Jews, as Americans.

Towards a better, a safer, more secure, more just, more peaceful world.