For the last decade, Jewish leaders have been worried about something called the Pew Study – a nation-wide study which claims that young Jews consider themselves “Jewish but not religious”.  And in many communities, there are discussions about whether Judaism is a religion or a people.

But for most of our history, the word “religion” didn’t even exist.  And our people were known as Ioudaioi, a Greek word that meant “the people who live like Jews”, or perhaps, “the people who have a Jewish world view.”

What, then, does it mean to be a Jew?  If we ignore the word “religion”, who are we? Is there anything that unites us?

For me, the answer is yes.  There is a belief – a story perhaps – that unites us. It’s a story about a people who grew up in a wind swept desert, a people who knew the bitterness of slavery and who learned that we are all responsible to each other – that none of us are free until we are all free.

And it’s story of a people who experienced Sinai – a radical moment when our hearts came together – a moment that Sefat Emet describes this way:

At the moment that the words came forth, “I am Adonai your God”, the people saw the root of life.  They looked in each other’s eyes and saw God’s presence in each other’s souls. They did not have to believe the words; they only had to see the voice of God in each other.

For some, like me, it was the moment when God revealed Himself. And for others, it’s a story. But either way, that moment changed us. Our values and our story affect us – both in great earth-shaking moments and in moments we hardly even notice.

Go to a Bar Mitzvah party or a Jewish restaurant, and if you stay long enough, you will hear the inevitable sound of a waiter dropping dishes.   And in an instant, you will hear another, joyous sound – a restaurant full of people saying “Mazel Tov.” A mistake by a waiter has been turned into a celebration.

Why the Mazel Tov?  Perhaps, it’s a recognition of our humanity. All of us try and all of us fail. But even in moments of failure, we can still look at each other and see the presence of God. Saying Mazel Tov reminds us that we are all one community – the waiters, the customer, even the poor who can’t afford to eat. It’s a reminder that we are all responsible for each other.

“When something breaks”, wrote one rabbi, “it is an omen of divine severity and judgment. Being joyful and wishing ‘Mazel Tov‘ has the power to sweeten and mitigate this severity.”   Or as Rabbi Sacks puts it, “Joy is doubled and pain is halved when they are shared.”

And another rabbi tells a story about the Biblical Rachel. “Rachel prayed for years to have a child”, he taught. “And when her son was finally born, he became a normal child – running around, getting hyper, and occasionally dropping things. So Rachel would say ‘Mazel Tov’ to herself every time he dropped something – a way of reminding herself that this imperfect, hyper child was also the miracle that she had prayed for.”

A simple Mazel Tov reminds us to be thankful. It reminds us that we are all one community, that all must help each other, and that there is a spark of goodness in everyone. And perhaps, saying Mazel Tov – and really understanding it – is what it means to be a Jew.

Shabbat Shalom,
Art