Sometimes it is just too hard to hold back the tears. Like during the unetaneh tokef of Rosh Hashana and Yom Kippur when contemplating the simple words “who will live and who will die; who at their predestined time and who not at their predestined time” and trying to come to terms with our extraordinary vulnerability. Or while singing hayom harat olam after hearing the blasts of the shofar on Rosh Hashana – “today is the day of the world’s creation” – and trying to behold just how beautiful our world can sometimes be. Or when watching our young children’s sheer delight on entering the sukkah for the first time and seeing the world for an all too brief moment through their eyes.
And then there is Gilad Shalit’s release. It’s impossible to imagine what he has endured for the past five years and four months since his capture. It seems that he was treated well and has returned in good physical health, but the psychological scars inflicted by living in near solitary confinement and in the knowledge that his life hung in the balance every single moment are just too much to contemplate. What his parents must have been through too is simply unimaginable – to have your own child taken away from you in that way and to live with the constant possibility of tragic news is too horrendous for words. I could not hold back the tears this morning upon hearing the news that he had been safely released; I have never met him or any members of his family, but the relief and gratitude I feel upon his return overwhelms every other emotion. Gilad Shalit is free.
I am aware, of course, that there is another side to his release. 1,027 Palestinian prisoners are also being released, over one hundred of whom are hard core militants. Amongst them include the perpetrator of the Park Hotel bombing in Netanya, who was given 29 life sentences for his despicable crime, as well as many others who contributed to similar atrocities. The tears shed by the friends and families of the victims of these attacks are immeasurable. Not surprisingly, the details of those being released and the 1027:1 ratio has been the cause of much debate and considerable anger in Israel. There can be no doubt whatsoever that the risks involved in this deal are huge; it seems not only likely but probable that Israelis will lose their lives as a result of it. And this is not an isolated incident; Haaretz journalist Bradley Burston notes that the overall ratio in these prisoner exchange deals now stands at 13,509:16.
I have watched the debate from the sidelines for the past week, partly in the media and partly via friends’ postings on Facebook. And amidst all the relief, the anger, the joy, the vengefulness and the often sickening way in which people engage with one another online, I am struck most by the casual nature of discourse about “us” and “them” and “life” and “death”. Some have chosen to quote Hasan Nasrallah’s infamous line – “the Jews love life and we love death” as proof text of the inhumanity of “them”. A dialogue included the insight that whereas “life is cheap for them”, “life is dear to us”. One person almost gleefully noted that even Hamas agrees that 1000 terrorists = 1 Israeli life. Another called for a law to be made now: “for every Israeli kidnapped, we will execute 1,000 terrorists”. Many have called for the death penalty to be instituted in Israel for terrorist acts. And arguably the quote of the week comes from former IDF Chief Rabbi Avihai Rontzki who stated the terrorists like those who killed members of the Fogel family “should just be shot, exterminated. They were terrorists that murdered people and should be killed in their beds". If this is the voice of a Jewish moral authority deserving the title “Chief Rabbi” of anything, then I cry tears of despair for Israel’s future that vastly outweigh any emotions I feel for Gilad Shalit and his family.
There is a culture of death that exists in parts of Islam and the Arab world. It is not all pervasive, it is held only by a small minority, but it is there. There is no question about that. But there is an imperative that sits at the heart of Judaism that holds the opposite position that should be repeated and repeated and repeated again: "I call heaven and earth to record this day against you, that I have set before you life and death, blessing and cursing: therefore choose life, that both you and your seed may live." We cannot change others; only they can do that. But we can live up to the core principles of Judaism – that life trumps death. Every time, in every instance.
I don’t deny for one minute the difficulties that entails sometimes. “Choose life that both you and your seed may live” is not always a simple proposition. But we choose life. That is who we are. We don’t kill people in their beds. We don’t indiscriminately kill 1,000 people, irrespective of who they are and what they have done. And we don’t institute the death penalty. Why? Because we choose life. Every time, in every instance.
If we struggle to hold back the tears of joy we feel on seeing the sheer delight of our own children at play, if we struggle to hold back the tears of anguish we feel as we contemplate the enormity of the words of unetaneh tokef and the vulnerability of our lives, if we struggle to hold back the tears of relief we feel on seeing Gilad Shalit returned to his family, we have no right to deny others the opportunity to shed similar tears. Indeed, we have a responsibility to ensure that our belief in life compels us to guarantee those rights at all times, not just for us, but for all humanity.
In the first interview with Gilad Shalit after his release, he said he missed three things during his captivity – family, friends and freedom. When push comes to shove, they are all that matter. May his release cause us to renew our commitment to ensure that all people – Israelis, Palestinians, and all humanity – are entitled and able to live their lives with these three immeasurable gifts that were denied to him for so long.
Tuesday, October 18, 2011
Thursday, October 6, 2011
Exams and jobs the key concerns: Reflections on the National Jewish Student Survey
It is difficult to avoid the impression that British universities are a hotbed of anti-Israel sentiment to be approached with considerable caution. The issue has even caught the attention of Matthew Gould, Britain's ambassador to Israel, who has questioned the validity of the hypothesis, and noted that it is deterring Israeli students from studying here.
Our research provides, for the first time, the students' eye view on the issue. In addition to the study of Jewish students, JPR ran a parallel survey of students in general and learned that a majority of those at British universities actually have no feelings either way about Israel. They are neither pro nor anti; they are indifferent.
Of the remainder with an opinion, they are evenly split: half have negative feelings, and half have positive feelings. Only four per cent are "very negative". This supports Israeli ambassador to Britain Daniel Taub's assertion that the impression created by anti-Israel campaigns "is disproportionate to the size and the core of people that are involved".
It may also explain why relatively few Jewish students are worried about the issue: whereas 76 per cent are concerned about passing exams and 69 per cent about finding a job,
38 per cent are worried about anti-Israel sentiment at university. Furthermore, the vast majority are open about their Jewishness on campus.
So while we would be wrong to minimise the issue of anti-Israel sentiment, not least because Jewish students report that it is difficult to talk about Israel at university without inviting some degree of "grief", we should also put it into perspective.
The question of how anti-Israel hostility is reported and tackled is important. The community should be aware of the issues, and those tasked with combating it should be given the support they require to succeed.
However, it should not dominate our view, not least because over-emphasising it appears to be affecting the Jewish identities of this young generation.
They exhibit considerably higher levels of commitment to supporting Israel or combating antisemitism than they do to charitable giving, volunteering or supporting social justice causes, all positive Jewish values of which we, as a people, are rightly proud.
One wonders whether all the apprehension and negativity is causing us to lose sight of the most important questions: who are we, and what contribution should we be making, both to the Jewish and wider world?
(Also published in the Jewish Chronicle)
Our research provides, for the first time, the students' eye view on the issue. In addition to the study of Jewish students, JPR ran a parallel survey of students in general and learned that a majority of those at British universities actually have no feelings either way about Israel. They are neither pro nor anti; they are indifferent.
Of the remainder with an opinion, they are evenly split: half have negative feelings, and half have positive feelings. Only four per cent are "very negative". This supports Israeli ambassador to Britain Daniel Taub's assertion that the impression created by anti-Israel campaigns "is disproportionate to the size and the core of people that are involved".
It may also explain why relatively few Jewish students are worried about the issue: whereas 76 per cent are concerned about passing exams and 69 per cent about finding a job,
38 per cent are worried about anti-Israel sentiment at university. Furthermore, the vast majority are open about their Jewishness on campus.
So while we would be wrong to minimise the issue of anti-Israel sentiment, not least because Jewish students report that it is difficult to talk about Israel at university without inviting some degree of "grief", we should also put it into perspective.
The question of how anti-Israel hostility is reported and tackled is important. The community should be aware of the issues, and those tasked with combating it should be given the support they require to succeed.
However, it should not dominate our view, not least because over-emphasising it appears to be affecting the Jewish identities of this young generation.
They exhibit considerably higher levels of commitment to supporting Israel or combating antisemitism than they do to charitable giving, volunteering or supporting social justice causes, all positive Jewish values of which we, as a people, are rightly proud.
One wonders whether all the apprehension and negativity is causing us to lose sight of the most important questions: who are we, and what contribution should we be making, both to the Jewish and wider world?
(Also published in the Jewish Chronicle)
What kind of Jewish grandchildren will we have?
Almost twenty years ago, the Chief Rabbi Jonathan Sacks published a book with a title that asked a provocative and era-defining question: “Will we have Jewish grandchildren?” His work helped to launch an enormous programme of investment in Jewish education in Britain. Since then, Jewish day school enrolment in the mainstream sector has increased by almost 30%, participation in Israel Experience summer tours has averaged at over 1,000 Jewish sixteen year-olds each year, and the community as a whole has witnessed a renaissance of activity that has transformed much of its educational and cultural landscape.
However, twenty years on, we still do not know the answer to his question, and we will have to wait a few more decades before we do. Indeed, one of the great frustrations about education is how difficult it is to evaluate its effects; whilst one can measure knowledge levels, assessing the long-term impact of any educational intervention is a much more complex endeavour. Nevertheless, one of the most important contributions of JPR’s National Jewish Student Survey (NJSS) is that it provides us with some early indicators of how valuable all the investment has been. It may not tell us directly whether or not we will have Jewish grandchildren, but it provides some strong hints to help answer the interim question: will we have Jewish children?
Today’s Jewish students were born when the Chief Rabbi was developing his ideas and beginning to write them up. They have grown up in a Jewish communal environment heavily shaped by his agenda. Indeed, as a cohort, they have probably had more invested in their Jewish development than any previous group in British Jewish history.
So, what is the verdict? In many respects, the news is good. The vast majority of Jewish students feel comfortable with their Jewish identity, and they are open about it on campus. Most have positive feelings about Israel and exhibit a strong sense of Jewish peoplehood. Whilst their levels of Jewish practice diminish a little when they are at university, the shift is not dramatic; they are certainly not displaying signs of throwing away Jewish ritual practice at the first opportunity. Many have wide Jewish social networks and actively choose to live with other Jews when given the chance. In fact, their Jewish profile is strikingly similar to their parents, so if continuity is the long-term goal, the early signs look quite positive.
However, there are aspects of the students’ identity that have raised some eyebrows. Perhaps the most striking is that, despite all the Jewish educational investment in their generation, almost half does no voluntary work for Jewish or non-Jewish charities. Of those who do volunteer, most only do so once a month or less. Furthermore, over a third of Jewish students polled disagreed with the ideas that being Jewish is about volunteering, or donating to charity or supporting social justice causes.
What this suggests is that whilst the messages about Israel and Jewish peoplehood have been heard loud and clear, the notion that being Jewish requires one to make a personal contribution to Jewish and wider society has simply not been internalized to the same extent. It is as if the Judaism they have received has given clear primacy to the campaigning messages of supporting Israel and combating antisemitism over and above the fundamental values-driven behaviours that sit at the heart of Jewish practice.
We should be concerned about this for several reasons. First, it seems likely that young people’s Jewish identities are being shaped more by the negative forces that seek to do damage to the Jewish People than by Judaism’s own positive internal value system. Second, the apparent failure of some young people to understand their individual responsibility to contribute should give pause for thought to those who will rely on this group’s generosity in the future. However, third, and perhaps most important, it raises questions about the nature of this group’s understanding of Jewishness itself. Who are we if we are not actively committed to tikkun olam (repairing the world)? Whilst we may well be on the way towards having Jewish grandchildren, a more pressing question today is what kind of Jewish grandchildren are we going to have?
(Also published in the Jewish News, 6 October 2011)
However, twenty years on, we still do not know the answer to his question, and we will have to wait a few more decades before we do. Indeed, one of the great frustrations about education is how difficult it is to evaluate its effects; whilst one can measure knowledge levels, assessing the long-term impact of any educational intervention is a much more complex endeavour. Nevertheless, one of the most important contributions of JPR’s National Jewish Student Survey (NJSS) is that it provides us with some early indicators of how valuable all the investment has been. It may not tell us directly whether or not we will have Jewish grandchildren, but it provides some strong hints to help answer the interim question: will we have Jewish children?
Today’s Jewish students were born when the Chief Rabbi was developing his ideas and beginning to write them up. They have grown up in a Jewish communal environment heavily shaped by his agenda. Indeed, as a cohort, they have probably had more invested in their Jewish development than any previous group in British Jewish history.
So, what is the verdict? In many respects, the news is good. The vast majority of Jewish students feel comfortable with their Jewish identity, and they are open about it on campus. Most have positive feelings about Israel and exhibit a strong sense of Jewish peoplehood. Whilst their levels of Jewish practice diminish a little when they are at university, the shift is not dramatic; they are certainly not displaying signs of throwing away Jewish ritual practice at the first opportunity. Many have wide Jewish social networks and actively choose to live with other Jews when given the chance. In fact, their Jewish profile is strikingly similar to their parents, so if continuity is the long-term goal, the early signs look quite positive.
However, there are aspects of the students’ identity that have raised some eyebrows. Perhaps the most striking is that, despite all the Jewish educational investment in their generation, almost half does no voluntary work for Jewish or non-Jewish charities. Of those who do volunteer, most only do so once a month or less. Furthermore, over a third of Jewish students polled disagreed with the ideas that being Jewish is about volunteering, or donating to charity or supporting social justice causes.
What this suggests is that whilst the messages about Israel and Jewish peoplehood have been heard loud and clear, the notion that being Jewish requires one to make a personal contribution to Jewish and wider society has simply not been internalized to the same extent. It is as if the Judaism they have received has given clear primacy to the campaigning messages of supporting Israel and combating antisemitism over and above the fundamental values-driven behaviours that sit at the heart of Jewish practice.
We should be concerned about this for several reasons. First, it seems likely that young people’s Jewish identities are being shaped more by the negative forces that seek to do damage to the Jewish People than by Judaism’s own positive internal value system. Second, the apparent failure of some young people to understand their individual responsibility to contribute should give pause for thought to those who will rely on this group’s generosity in the future. However, third, and perhaps most important, it raises questions about the nature of this group’s understanding of Jewishness itself. Who are we if we are not actively committed to tikkun olam (repairing the world)? Whilst we may well be on the way towards having Jewish grandchildren, a more pressing question today is what kind of Jewish grandchildren are we going to have?
(Also published in the Jewish News, 6 October 2011)
Monday, October 3, 2011
Home and Away: Jewish journeys towards independence
JPR's latest report - based on the National Jewish Student Survey that was carried out in February and March this year. Aside from the findings themselves, it positions JPR where I think it ought to be - producing data on issues that are of direct importance to the UK Jewish community, and trying to offer open-ended commentary and questions designed to encourage debate.
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