I found a job! After spending three years in Jerusalem, I am now gainfully employed in Orange County. I’m also in deep culture shock.
Before moving to Israel I had lived in Los Angeles, where Jews abounded at each of my jobs. I rarely interacted with non-Jews in Israel, much less worked with them.
Now I’m working for a stock brokerage firm in Irvine and find myself the only Jew in my department, maybe even the company.
I’ve lived most of my life in a gentile world, so why is this such a shock to my system? Maybe it’s because I underwent a major transformation in Israel. Or perhaps it’s the crucifixes that adorn my co-workers’ desks.
After three glorious years in the land of our forefathers, I feel a little out of kilter each time I confront one of these symbols of Christianity.
While getting to know my co-workers, it’s almost impossible not to reveal I’m Jewish. Among the questions they ask: What did I do before landing in their midst?
"I spent the last three years living in Israel," I tell them. My nonchalance dissolves in the midst of their awe and wonder. And then the questions begin to bounce off each other.
What did I do there? How was the security situation? Was I ever in a terrorist attack, or did I see or hear one? What is the lifestyle like? How does it compare to America?
It’s hard to avoid discussing the political situation when answering these questions. This is a very personal, potentially touchy subject. I never know when I’m going to run into someone who believes Israel should be handed over on a silver platter.
Lucky for me, my co-workers all seem to be very open-minded and receptive to my views. I simply tell it like I see it and let them draw their own conclusions.
But the questions become more challenging when the subject turns to religion. Do you follow the Old or New Testament? Do you believe Jesus Christ is the savior? What are your beliefs regarding the Messiah? And that most important question of all: What in the world is a matzah ball?
I can discuss the Torah and Judaism, but I know next to nothing about Christianity. I’m very upfront about this. I readily admit my ignorance and then proceed to explain what I do know in the least offensive way.
As I find myself answering questions about Judaism, and deflecting subjects I know nothing about, I realize I am representing the Jewish people. In this time of conflict, of increasing anti-Semitism, being a Jew in a gentile world takes on extraordinary significance. I always considered being Jewish a privilege. And over the past few years, as I’ve delved into the Torah, I’ve come to learn it’s also a responsibility.
I wonder how many Jews out there could do a better job answering the questions, explaining the differences, conjuring awe and reverence rather than hatred or ignorance. Then my thoughts take an even scarier turn: How many Jews out there know even less than me? People who are not able to answer the questions, and worse, people who don’t care enough to even engage in the conversation.
If the nations of the world are ever to show the Jewish people respect and admiration, we have to rid ourselves of our ignorance about our religion and answer the questions put to us honestly and openly. We have to stand up and say, being Jewish is not my religion — it’s who I am, and I’m proud of that.
Now, if we want to talk about traditional Jewish foods, on that I have no trouble. I even do a pretty good job explaining how to make a mean matzah ball.
Marisa N. Pickar is a freelance journalist living in Laguna Woods.
