Wartime Judaism: How Jews embraced their Jewishness post-Oct. 7 - opinion

Besides a Jewish star, a hamsa, and my grandmother’s chain necklaces, I, too, was wearing a dog tag around my neck. But whereas I am committed to a life of Jewish practice and facilitation, this guest shared that he and his children are not religious; they mark major milestones in a Jewish way but otherwise live a completely secular life. He found his Jewish identity after October 7 and committed to strong activism and philanthropy to support Israel. 

This anecdote is demonstrative of the countless times I’ve experienced Diaspora Jews’ expressing their otherwise latent Jewishness in a new way. The Pew Research Center’s 2021 report on Jewish Americans found that synagogue membership is relatively low; only 35% of Jewish adults report being synagogue members or having someone in their household who is a synagogue member. Moreover, according to the same study, only 15% of American Jews consider observing Jewish law to be an essential part of their Jewish identity. This indicates that while religious observance is important to a segment of the Jewish population, it is far from the primary factor for the majority when defining their Jewish identity. 

So, how do less traditionally observant Jews actually express their Judaism?

In my memoir, Confessions of a Female Rabbi (Viva Editions/Simon & Schuster, 2024), I share seven case studies of families that I work with and how they’ve found meaning in religious identity in a modern way. Their circumstances include interfaith couples, atheist Jews, Israel-US dual citizens, and those with learning challenges or differences that synagogues could not accommodate. I describe the shortcomings of institutional Judaism and the way Jews attempt to supplement or seek out opportunities for new transformative Jewish experiences that weave what’s really relevant to the bulk of Jews now. 

Israel education and Zionism have always been a priority for me and the families I serve. As the Holy Land and the world’s only Jewish state, Israel’s existence is even more crucial to Jews who otherwise have no synagogue, institutional membership, or home base. In my book, I describe that disengaged cohort as the “de-shuled” or “de-shuling.” 

Now, since October 7, I sense that the vast majority of Jews feel more passionate about their Jewishness. Accordingly, the relatively minuscule number of pro-Hamas “As-A-Jews” joining protests on campus and on the streets are viewed derisively as self-loathing Jews. 

October 7 has defined the current population like the Holocaust defined that of my grandparents; the silver lining of the tragic Jew-hatred is the strengthened Jewish community. With all eyes on Israel, the country’s existence and perseverance have truly become the center of Jewish identity.

An important front of Jewish expression and purpose has emerged since the war– a cadre of skilled, impassioned advocates is fighting on social media platforms, cable news panels, and in-person events to share the truth of what happened on October 7 and why Israel must defeat Hamas to ensure that this barbarism is never repeated. Emphasizing the hostages’ safe return has become a passion and purpose for many who were otherwise secular. A perfect example is actress Debra Messing, who has emerged as a staunch Israel supporter and advocate. She has risen as a loud supportive voice of all pro-Jewish causes. From speaking at the UJA’s November 2023 March for Israel, to posting relentlessly to her large social media following, Messing also appears weekly on panels against antisemitism. 

Likewise, religiously observant personalities have been louder than ever. In an Instagram post on August 1, 2024, social media influencer Lizzy Savetsky pointed out that her social media pivoted three years ago from a focus on fashion and lifestyle content to one of Jewish advocacy in response to antisemitism and anti-Zionism. 

In the same vein, I recently returned from the Jewish National Fund’s July mission trip to volunteer in Israel. Participants included members from every religious background, except for ultra-Orthodox. One of the best friends I made on the trip was a member of the Church of Latter-Day Saints. Interestingly, she observed her religion more strictly than most of the Jewish trip participants. In contrast, strong Zionist commitment underscored most of the Jewish participants’ reason for traveling to Israel, on the possible brink of World War III. Our American dollars and sweat were spent not to affirm biblical stories with archaeology or explore religious practice. In fact, Jerusalem and the Western Wall were the last stop on our trip, with zero mention of their religious significance – almost making the landmark seem like an afterthought. 

Even though I was longing for more time in Jerusalem, I understood that this trip was unlike the 30-plus bar mitzvah missions I’ve participated in. We did not trace the steps of Abraham or explore the active archaeological site known as the City of David. What was our center? The attacked kibbutz communities; the Supernova music festival concert grounds; army bases; and farms all around the Gaza envelope. 

As our unofficial group rabbi, I tried my best to recalibrate the group during our approach to Jerusalem. We stopped to plant trees in the biblical nature park Neot Kedumim. Jewish pioneers of the early 1900s planting trees in Israel was a symbolic attempt to restore and improve the land, as well as to practically prove land ownership. It is also a religious command originating in Leviticus Chapter 19; to paraphrase, “when one first comes to the Holy Land, one shall plant trees.” To tie in the moment’s spirituality, I spoke to my new congregation and reminded them of the prayer known as “Tree of Life.” The prayer speaks to the urgency of holding up (upholding) our foundational book like a tree; and in so doing, we will make our days even better than ever, while restoring our land as it was before. We then sang Israel’s national anthem, “Hatikvah,” and planted our trees. I know that what touched people more than the prayer was the national anthem.

I’ll tell you what this means: For wartime modern Jews, religious observance and adherence to tradition pale in importance compared to Zionism and advocacy. The palpable Jew-hatred in the States mixed with Islamist threats by the genocidal Iranian regime and its proxy groups have catapulted a fight signal in the otherwise religiously flighty. 

As a rabbi, I pray that this new sense of effort, interest, and strength in Jewish identity translates to really living as a Jew. I pray that wartime Jews have found deep meaning and purpose in being Jewish, but that it includes an interest in the richness of Judaism besides Zionism. I hope the war reminds Jews of their unique peoplehood but also the covenant of holiness they affirmed through our ancestors and Moses. For a refresher – I recommend a visit to any Jewish denomination’s Torah services on Saturday morning and giving attention to the summertime readings of Deuteronomy. I hope the sense of pride and Zionism continues to draw from the other important Jewish values that are a part of our people. 

Still, I wonder what will happen after the war, once order and security are restored to Israel. As the prophet Isaiah said, one day “we shall beat our swords into plowshares.” Will we still know how to be Jewish and strong without the sword of war? ■

Rebecca Keren Jablonski is a rabbi, author, and private educator. Her debut memoir, Confessions of a Female Rabbi: Relevant Religion in an On-Demand World (Viva Editions/Simon & Schuster), was released in August. She is also a contributing author to Zibby Owen’s On Being Jewish Now (Zibby Books, October 1, 2024).