The Surprising Place I Found Hope

The Jewish High Holidays came and went this past month, and I found myself craving more observance of the holidays than I have in years, or even decades. There are several anti-zionist congregations around the country (none in Atlanta), so I streamed services from a reconstructionist congregation in Philadelphia. It was surprisingly emotional, and also quite nourishing, to see other anti-zionist Jews performing many of the same rituals and singing many of the same prayers that I grew up with. They were just... being Jewish. Observing the High Holidays. Like I did every year for my entire childhood and young adulthood.

Except, it was different. Unlike every other synagogue I've been to, there was no Israeli flag displayed in the sanctuary. The rabbi wept as they delivered the sermon, during which they talked about the absolute physical and emotional devastation of the past year. Many of the aliyot (blessings) before and after each section of the torah, traditionally reserved as an honor for friends, family, and members of the community, were offered to people who have protested in support of Palestinian liberation, as well as people whose lives have been impacted by other forms of oppression.

It was the same, but it wasn't the same. Just like I, after the past year as an anti-zionist Jewish woman, am also not the same.

It was an example of how observance of Jewish rituals can exist, and even thrive, without being tied, in any way, to the state of Israel. There was laughter, tears, community, prayer, solemnity, and lightheartedness. There was a commitment to collective liberation. There was an honoring of all people's humanity, not just the people who look and sound like me. It felt, to me, what religion should feel like.

While I continue to fight for Palestinian liberation and work towards finding common ground with friends and family who strongly disagree with me, I find solace in knowing that there is another way to practice Judaism than what I've previously experienced. That, as Jews, we still share many common elements of how we practice Judaism, more than many of us might realize, and that Judaism can be meaningful without Israel.

Our community has a lot to reckon with and atone for. And, maybe, just maybe, we can find our way to a more radically honest and inclusive way to observe our religion and rectify the harms that have been committed in our name.