Jewish Pride: Don’t Leave Home Without It

A few years ago, when I had the privilege of addressing a group of teenagers in our community,  I began by asking them to write down three positive aspects and three challenges of growing up in a religious

and observant environment.  Their answers were thoughtful, honest, and fascinating.  One struggle that appeared on several lists was that of being different.  Several of the students expressed their frequent discomfort with always feeling different.    Some felt an uneasiness having to explain Jewish ideas like Shabbos, and they worried about navigating these differences as they grew older and entered into the workforce. 

Of course, the tension of feeling different is nothing new.  Herman Wouk a”h, the Pulitzer Prize–winning Jewish author, wrote the semi-autobiographical novel called “Inside, Outside,” in which he portrays his inner struggles straddling two worlds. His religious and saintly grandfather had a deep influence on him, but so did Hollywood and Broadway. It took Wouk a long time to find his way and settle into an observant Jewish lifestyle while still writing bestsellers.  He writes that while being Jewish on the inside came more naturally, it is when he hit the outside world that he encountered temptation and unrest. 

Wouk learned that the challenge we face as religious Jews is to remain proudly and defiantly Jewish even in the face of occasionally conflicting cultures and frequent questions and curious looks. 

The Gemarah in Avodah Zara tells a fascinating story about the life of Judaism’s most famous convert, Onkeles, the nephew of Emperor Titus.  When Onkelos became a convert, the Emperor sent a contingent of Roman soldiers after him to bring him back, but Onkeles was able to win them over, resulting in the soldiers converting to Judaism. Undeterred, the Emperor sent another legion of Romans after Onkeles, this time commanding them not to speak with him at all. As they were about to cuff him and take him away, Onkeles offered a parable to the soldiers: “Let me tell you just a simple thing: In a procession, a low-ranking dignitary carries the light in front of the higher-ranking officer, and the higher-ranking officer in front of his superior officer, and that officer carries the light in front of the king.   But does the king carry the light in front of ordinary people?” “No!” they replied. Onkeles responded, “Yet Hashem, Creator of the universe, holds a torch before the Jews.”   Soon those soldiers, too, converted.

Hoping that the third time would be a charm, the Emperor sent one last legion, this time ordering them not to listen to Onkeles or talk to him at all. They once again captured him and as they were walking, Onkeles saw a mezuzah on the doorframe.  As he placed his hand on it, he said to the soldiers, “Now what is this?”  The soldiers responded, “You tell us.” Onkeles then told them, “According to universal custom, a mortal king dwells within a house, and his servants guard him from the outside. However, in the case of Hashem, His servants dwell inside while He guards them on the outside.    These soldiers also converted to Judaism.  The Gemarah concludes by telling us that the Emperor stopped sending soldiers, and eventually left Onkeles alone.

In the Gemarah, Onkeles gave two examples to the soldiers, one about fire and one about a Mezuzah.    Rabbi Eliyahu Shlessinger, in his Sefer Eleh Hem Moadai, comments that these two examples are purposeful.  Both fire and a Mezuzah very publicly declare our Jewishness.   When we light the candles of Chanukah we do so publicly, placed in the doorway facing the public domain. 

Similarly, our Mezuzah sits at the threshold of our homes, at the juncture and crossover between our inner, private lives and our outer lives.  When you place a Mezuzah on your door, it signals to everyone who passes by that in this house dwells not just a Jew, but a Jew who is proud of his Judaism and not embarrassed to showcase it. 

Onkeles converted those soldiers not by apologizing for his Judaism, but by being proud of it. 

More often than not, we walk by a Mezuzah, mindlessly kissing it, but oblivious to what it’s there to symbolize.  But as Rabbi Dr. Abraham J. Twerski once quipped, “I see people enter a room, kiss the mezuzah and then watch TV for a half hour. I would rather they kissed the TV and then watched the mezuzah for a half hour.”

The Gemarah in Shabbos tells us that someone who is careful with lighting candles will merit righteous children.  Why would such a quick and simple act yield such a significant reward?  Rav Moshe Shternbuch suggests that the Gemarah is specifically referring to when you light the candles in public.  The greatest impact you can have on your children is when they see that you don’t retreat from your Judaism, that are not embarrassed, apologetic, or ashamed of it, and that you don’t try to hide it.  When they see us display our Judaism with great pride and joy, it makes an indelible impact on them. 

Being different is never easy.  Especially for teenagers, it can be uncomfortable and awkward.  But it’s also what it means to be a Jew.  The challenge we face as religious Jews is to remain proudly and defiantly Jewish even in the face of occasionally conflicting cultures and frequent questions and curious looks. 

Whether you're davening in airports, eating sandwiches wrapped in tinfoil at a park, or grabbing snacks at a gas station on a road trip, the weeks ahead are filled with chances to proudly live and share your Judaism—not just in our homes, but out in the world.

The mezuzah reminds us who we are each time we walk through the door. This summer, let the world see that same pride wherever your journey takes you.