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Chayei Sarah always provides a bit of relief in the Torah-reading cycle. For the last four weeks we have been moving at a rip-roaring pace over 2000 years of history, twenty generations, creation, flood, recreation, killing (and near-killing), saving lives, arks, towers, tents, meals, and love triangles. As Fred Savage says in the Princess Bride, “Doesn’t sound too bad. I’ll try to stay awake.” With Chayei Sarah, the Torah finally slows down and proceeds to tell a detailed story—first that of Avraham burying Sarah, and then the longer story of Avraham’s servant finding a wife for Yitzhak. The moment that sets in motion the second story of Chayei Sarah is Avraham’s demand of his servant, “Swear to me by God, Lord of heaven and earth, that you will not take a wife for my son from among the people in whose midst I dwell. Rather go to my land, my birthplace, and take a wife for my son, for Yitzhak.” (Gen. 24:2-3) The language here is striking: Avraham explicitly uses the terms “Artzi” and “Moladati”, “my land” and “my birthplace,” which God used in the very opening line of Avraham’s story in parashat Lech Lecha: “And God said to Avram: ‘Get up and go out of your land, your birthplace, and your father’s house unto the land I will show you” (Gen. 12:1). It is a revealing remark: though Avraham has obeyed all of God’s commands and passed all of God’s tests and has been assured that the land of Israel will be his children’s inheritance, he still views the land that he came from, Haran or Ur-Kasdim, as his homeland. This could be because he spent most of his life and his early formative years there, or it could be because the land which has been envisioned for him has not yet come to be—there is no unique, Godfearing people filling the land of Canaan yet. Which makes Avraham’s desire intriguing. What is he looking for? Does we want a wife for Isaac who also has monotheistic views, and he knows he can’t find that in Canaan? Or is he looking for someone of the same tribal lineage? To put it more simply, is he looking for ideological or tribal identity? This week I have been taking part in the General Assembly (GA) of the United Jewish Communities in Jerusalem. And I must admit that I have been pleasantly surprised by the event. What have been most meaningful are the moments where Israelis and North American Jews confront their different perceptions of Jewish identity. The great luxury of being in Israel is that the calendar is the Jewish calendar; the workweek is organized around Shabbat; and the language of the newspapers and the radio and the television is the same as that in the siddur and the Torah. Israelis who I talk to, by and large, don’t perceive that they have to choose their Jewishness, because it is so basic to the fabric of their national identity. In the process, they have been willing for too long to give up the richness of meaningful Jewish life that exists beyond just the calendar and modern Hebrew poetry, and deposit Torah, a potential reservoir of meaning, with the Haredim, the Other in secular Israeli society. This is beginning to change, but it is a struggle. North Americans, predictably, have a nearly reverse set of issues. Identity is a hot topic among North Americans. And people are coming back to learning Torah in a new and exciting way (even at the GA!). Precisely because North Americans cannot take their Jewishness for granted, they have to work hard to maintain it. And what is working for my generation of North American Jewry is creating a Jewish identity of meaning and content, and not just of tribal loyalty. As I like to say, if the only reason not to marry a nonJew is because she isn’t Jewish (that is, not because Judaism is important and meaningful to me and I want to share that with someone and pass it on to my children in the context of a Jewish family), then, in the ears of my generation, it’s simply racism, and it won’t sell. To simplify (at the expense of some nuance): While Israelis by definition share a tribal/national identity, North American Jews of my generation and forward share an ideological one. These definitions are formed by our different experiences of Jewishness and Judaism, in the diaspora and in the land of our people. And in the end, it does not seem to me that either is sufficient on its own: I have one set of concerns about raising my son in America, and another about the thought of raising him in Israel. In America: Will Judaism speak to him? Will he feel strongly about keeping Shabbat and kashrut when the rest of society doesn’t encourage it? In Israel: Will he take his Jewishness for granted? Will he understand the notion of pluralism, both within and beyond the Jewish community? The North American Jewish community’s most significant response to the 1990s “continuity crisis” was Birthright Israel. It’s an ironic twist: While Avraham specifically wanted a wife for Yitzhak from beyond the borders of Israel, North Americans are sending their kids to Israel in the hopes that they will marry other Jews. But again the question: What kind of identity is being emphasized? And again my answer: I think both are important. But ultimately, in a world where the demise of the nation-state and the creation of open borders has already begun and seems increasingly inevitable (the “Clash of Civilizations” notwithstanding, or perhaps it is the best proof), Jewish identity must be based on content, on meaning, on Torah, in whatever form it takes, so long as it is substantive; relying only on tribal appeal is not going to work. As it turns out, Yitzhak is only one of many of our ancestors who marry “foreign” women: Sarah, Rivka, Rachel and Leah (all from Mesopotamia), Yosef’s wife Osnat (Egyptian), Moshe’s wife Tzippora (Midianite), Boaz’s wife Ruth (Moabite). Particularly in the case of Ruth, the great-grandmother of King David and from whose story the Rabbis learned many of the practices of conversion, the message is made clear: “Amech ami, v’elohaich elohai,” “Your people shall be my people, and your god shall be my god.” Ruth pledges herself not only tribally to the people of Israel, but theologically and ideologically to the God of Israel as well. Shabbat shalom.