Vi gut tzu zein a Yid — It’s good to be a Jew!

3/29/24

The Vineyard Haven Post Office is an aggravating topic for Islanders. For many, it is tainted with images of long and slow lines, the kind that nightmares are made of, all just to pick up some mail--which on our blessed Island doesn't arrive at our door.

But I often look forward to post office visits as they are great opportunities to bump into a friend or familiar Island face that I haven't seen in a while. And who doesn't enjoy reconnecting with a familiar face amid the post office boredom?

This week, while leaving the post office, I bumped into an Island friend, and of course, we began chatting about the latest news in Israel and the Jewish world. 

After covering the recent Chuck Schumer saga and all related must-talk-about Jewish chatter, my post-office friend sighed and quoted a line from his childhood: "vi shver tzu zein a yid." "Oh, how hard it is to be a Jew." 

As I heard those words "shver tzu zein a yid," I immediately recalled a similar line I used to hear growing up. It went like this: "vi gut tzu zein a yid!" "Oh, how good it is to be a Jew!".

Similar, yet so different.

I would hear that line from my grandparents and their ilk growing up. My grandparents were no strangers to the hardships of being Jewish. Both of my maternal grandparents smuggled themselves across the Russian border in 1946 after my great-grandfather was exiled to Siberia for the sin of spreading Judaism in Russia, while his parents were exterminated in Treblinka.

My grandparents were in no way spared of the hardships of being Jewish. They, as millions in their generation had, experienced the hardest "perks" of Jewish identity. Yet their feelings of being Judaism were expressed as "vi gut tzu zein a yid." Their connection with Judaism was not one of a burden but one of love. It was never hard to be a Jew, no matter what it may have seemed like to others. It was always good to be a Jew. 

This week, America lost one of its great politicians, Senator Joe Lieberman, the first and only Jew to ever be on a major presidential ticket, who was a proud and observant Jew.

Senator Lieberman's commitment to Shabbat observance made history when it prevented him from attending his own Senate nomination in 1988 and when he would walk to and from the Capitol for Senate votes, occasionally taking the five-mile walk amid heavy rain, as his Shabbat observance prohibited him from using a car.

Lieberman exemplified the approach of "vi gut tzu zein a yid." He saw Judaism as the gift it is, even making it the subject of his bestselling book about Shabbat, aptly titled "The Gift of Rest." 

Two non-mutually exclusive truths are part of the Jewish experience:

One truth is that antisemitism is the oldest hatred in the world and is having a frightening revival in America, on both sides of the political divide. Israel is suffering and has rarely been so alone. And Jewish Americans have been abandoned by supposed long-term allies who now view them and their people as occupiers and oppressors.

The other truth is that Judaism is the greatest gift one can have. It enriches life with meaning, fills every day with purpose, and links you to the golden chain of a miraculous nation that continues to survive against all odds.

It's both "shver tzu zein a yid." and "gut tzu zein a yid." They are both true. The question is only which of these will we choose to be the focus and center of our Jewish identity?

Is our Jewish identity about being a persecuted people and our Jewish engagement about fighting antisemitism or is it about cherishing the divine and transformative treasures of Torah and mitzvot and embracing Shabbos as "The Gift of Rest."

For our sake, for the sake of our children, and for the sake of Judaism remaining a living part of our families' futures, let's choose the latter.