Athens–“Jewish? I’ve never met a Jew before,” she said. That was the disconcerting start of what became one of the greatest summer experiences I could imagine.
This summer, instead of summer camp or a family trip, I had the opportunity to travel with an academic group through Europe. Our tour was titled “The Rise of Western Civilization” and the group consisted of 15 high school students and four college professors from around the country. It had no connection to any particular religion. We spent a week each in Athens, Rome, Florence and Paris studying the art, architecture, sociology and language of each place both historically and today. We then tied this knowledge to the development of western civilization. Amazing? Yes, a brilliant academic experience that is impossible to articulate; the world became our classroom. I had an additional experience that I did not expect; I discovered what others perceive/understand about Orthodox Jews and had the opportunity to influence those opinions.
“But I mean it, I have never met a Jew before.” I was dumbfounded. I was eating lunch, in Athens, Greece, with a high schooler my age who had never met–or even seen–a Jew before in her life. At that moment I realized just how sheltered I am; they had never seen a Jew and I had never been friends with a Catholic Puerto Rican girl or a vegan atheist from New Orleans. It became clear to me then that the first impression of Judaism that I gave this girl, who would later become a sister to me, was crucial. It was bigger than her impression of me as a friend, it was something that would influence her opinion of Jewish people forevermore, and I needed to represent my religion proudly and with confidence.
The inquiries continued:
“Do you mean those people who wear head scarves, small circle hats, and the box with straps?”
“I heard some of them even have two separate sinks for meat and dairy.”
“Is it true that they don’t use their cell phones at all on Saturdays? What if they need to talk to someone?”
When my responses and “alternative” eating habits cemented these rumors, the other students on the program grew impressed by the strength and self-control that Kashrut and Shabbat demand. Our mutual respect and admiration became particularly important to our group this summer. With the Arab-Israeli conflict in the forefront of the news, being Jewish was most definitely in the spotlight. Western Europe, especially Paris, was filled with antisemitism. Walking to the Parisian metro, the group and I would pass street lamps covered in fliers calling for the death of Jewish vermin. We passed shuls under lockdown, saw graffiti of swastikas, and witnessed antisemitic riots. Though all of these situations terrified me more than I can express with words, I felt safer because of the love and support of the secular group around me. Rather than hating Jews because of the hate that surrounded them, my friends were as horrified as I was, and made every effort to block any hateful messages that we passed to help me feel safe and secure. Being with a secular group allowed me to safely stay in Europe at a time of Jewish hardship and to witness history unfolding before my eyes, both good and bad. I saw firsthand that not all demonstrations in Europe are antisemitic. One of my favorite memories of the trip was passing a pro-Israel rally in Rome and stopping as a group to participate. I have never felt so proud to be Jewish.
So when people ask me how my summer was, I can honestly say it was the best summer ever. Not only did I travel, learn, broaden my world view and experience Europe, I had a surprise bonus; the privilege of introducing my peers to Judaism and watching them embrace it.
By Rivka Zimm
