It was a warm Friday evening in July. We were in the Old City of Jerusalem, and I decided that we as a family should walk to the Kotel, the Western Wall, to welcome in Shabbat.
As we strolled past the Arab peddlers, entered Jaffa Gate and walked through the stone alleyways of the shuk, we were enveloped by a sea of black hats. We on the other hand (my kids and I, who had been outside all day) were wearing our Baltimore’s best in the hot, summer weather — bright, breathable, sporty, Under Armour.
We stood out.
Hey, it was a sweltering 98 degrees!
Now you may think that would cause a fuss amongst our Orthodox brethren. But we weren’t shunned. No one even looked at us askance. Rather, we were made to feel welcome.
Did we feel a little out of place? Sure.
But that was our own meshugas. My son, in Israel for his bar mitzvah at the time, even said to us, “Boy, those are cool hats. Can I get one?”
That experience of being warmly surrounded by the embrace of fellow Jews who may not appear like me, and to some may even seem a little intimidating, took me back to another time when I was 10 years old at Camp Ramah in New England. We were a bunch of white, upper middle-class, mainly suburban kids assembled in the Bet Am, house of people, when a group of Chasidim came in and made friends with us.
They talked, we kibitzed, and they asked us what we liked to do. “Do you like sports? What team is your favorite?” And then, after not too long, we proceeded to dance and sing all night together with them.
While I was perhaps a little too young to completely grasp the concept, we were one people.
Fast forward to today and the divide that exists, whether at the Kotel and the challenges of accepting women who wish to pray there, or here at home in Baltimore, between some Haredim and the wider Jewish community. We could all use some of that same singing, dancing and praying together.
We’re all Jews and fighting amongst ourselves while there are plenty of others outside our faith who’d like to fight with any and all of us. It’s meshugena!
I even make it a point to go to the ice skating rink on a Saturday night or Sunday afternoon and proudly wear my Israeli krav maga sweatshirt, because I know there’ll be a lot of Orthodox folks there. I enjoy the feeling of being part of a Jewish community and even exchanging some Hebrew expressions with them.
Whether Ashkenazic, Sephardic, Mizrachi or the lost tribe of Manasseh who are being airlifted from India and returning home to Israel, we’re stronger and better when we’re one.
Back in Jerusalem, when we were walking out of the Damascus Gate on that glorious Friday night, some of the Haredim inquired, “Where are you from?”
Yes, clearly we stood out, but the tone was congenial.
“Baltimore,” we said, and there was an immediate smile on an old rabbi’s face. “Baltimore,” he said, “we have family in Baltimore!”
Yes, we really are just one big family.
Abe Novick is a writer and communications consultant.
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