So this is a bit of a long story, but bear with me for a little….

I recently saw a post by a guy that I want to college with. Let’s call him Steve. The two of us were pretty good friends throughout the 3 years we learned Graphic Design and Advertising together. We ate most meals together – him with his cafeteria-bought pepperoni pizza, and me with my kosher yogurt and packed tuna sandwich from home.

My entire class knew that I was Jewish – probably because I walked in the first day determined to use my given Hebrew name (no English name…) Chavi. That pretty much ended by 4 PM that day when everyone tried desperately to make that harsh “Ch” sound and ended up sounding like a bunch of students throwing up a hairball. So I switched to Rachel since my middle names are Rochel Laya (yes, spelled and pronounced like this…). A story for another time.

But the word was already out: I was the sole Jewish student in this program of hundreds of students.

So the college years passed, we lost touch, and I eventually married and then moved to Israel a couple of years later with my husband and 5 month old baby. Time went by and we added more kids to our family, and a couple of dogs along the way.

At some point, probably close to twenty years later I get a message on Facebook:

Hey, it’s Steve, do you remember me?

Of course I did! It was really nice to hear from him and we started corresponding a little here and there. He, too, was married and he was working as a Graphic Designer in the city.

At some point during our correspondence – maybe a couple weeks into it – he dropped a truth bomb:

He told me he was Jewish.

I can’t tell you the shock I felt. I was actually dumbstruck. I had sat next to this guy for YEARS, and answered questions about my religion, explaining the inaneness of what exactly was The Feast of the Tabernacles, and that we “lived” in branch covered huts for 7 days while shaking three branches and a lemon every day. He saw me fight to hand in a project a day late because of Passover, and to explain to professors why I was missing so many classes during that holiday periods. He heard my argument with the dean who had the gall to ask me to choose between my career and my religion. I got married the middle of my second year and started covering my hair. Had to explain and defend that because a rumor was going around the program that I had cancer and that was why I was wearing a hat every day. I missed my own graduation because it was on Shabbat, and my classmates were committed to convincing me to “skip” Shabbat just that one time so I could participate. That God would understand.

Suffice it to say, my classmates got a real education of what it was to be a committed religious Jew – and for most of them, I was the first Jew they met.

When I finally found my voice, I said to him: why didn’t you say anything the entire 3 years we were in college together?

I was utterly confused by this.

He responded: my dad told me as a child to NEVER EVER reveal the fact that I was Jewish to anyone, no matter what.

So he listened to his dad.

He kept that secret from me the entire time, from the one Jewish girl who was outwardly and unashamedly Jewish on a college campus filled with non-Jews.

When he told me this, I thought about it a lot – his silence, his obvious shame, the secrecy of keeping something like this from a fellow Jew. He married a non-jew and he is so so so far removed from ANY Jewish life whatsoever.

So recently when I saw him post about being relieved that his government had put out another public statement reiterating their commitment to stay as far away from this war between Iran, the US and Israel, (he called it a “quagmire”) I had to admit I was surprised.

I saw that someone else had commented on his post: this person had a tiny Israeli flag at the bottom of their profile pic, so I knew they were a supporter of Israel. They commented that Iran was killing it’s own people and threatening to destroy the US and Israel, and questioned how he can’t see that.

I was emboldened to comment as well. But I went one step further: I stated that the Iranian regime was looking to destroy democracy and to bring instability to the Middle East. That this would have dangerous ripple effects and would eventually reach North American shores (truth: it has already…)

He never responded to either comment.

The fact that his government was proud to publicly soothe the nation by confirming their commitment to stay out of the war is just embarrassing.

I’m sure the countries that turned a blind eye and stayed out of WW2 were thinking afterwards that maybe they should have taken a stand. Maybe they should have sided with good and not abstained – or worse and sided with the enemy – and let the atrocities continue for YEARS.

Silence is complicity.

You’d think hindsight is 20/20 and they would have learned something – they would see the parallels between then and now, but that’s a pipe dream when it comes to Anti-Semitism.

What made me so sad about the entire thing was that he was SO far removed from his heritage, that the fact that Iran was launching cluster bombs and missiles at us wasn’t even on his radar. Not his country, not his war. And he wanted his country to stay out of it.

I wanted to tell him: THIS is where your people are from, this country is in YOUR DNA, but I remembered that he was living a lie – he was hiding his Jewishness. In 2026. It seemed so 1940s but I certainly wasn’t going to be the one to out him.

The sadness I (still) feel from this whole story has been sitting with me for a very long time. I’ll admit to being hurt that after October 7th, he – knowing I live here, and in all probability the only person he knows living here – didn’t bother reaching out to ask how we were doing.

I am the granddaughter of Holocaust survivors. My grandparents suffered through concentration camps because they were Jewish – they lived an openly Jewish life and were targeted because of it.

I think about my friend’s dad – what must have shaped HIS childhood for him to pass on this legacy of shame and secrecy to HIS son.

But he’s forgetting one thing: when it came to the Holocaust, the Nazis didn’t only target openly practicing Jews. They hunted for ANY Jew: a half Jew, a Jew by one grandparent, a Jew by the father, a non religious Jew, an atheist Jew, a Jew that rejected his religion, a Jew that was “passing” as a Christian or Catholic.

They didn’t care about whether they were sporting a kippah, tzitzit, or a beard. You just had to be a Jew to be in their crosshairs.

The legacy that his father had bequeathed him was one of shame and secrecy.

And I think about the legacy my husband and I are leaving our children. We moved here, to Israel, for a reason. To return to our ancestral home. But it’s way more than that –  it’s to publicly show a responsibility to our conservation of this land. To protect it all costs and to aid in its growth and progress. To stand on this dusty desert land and lay claim to it, to say this belongs to us and we aren’t leaving it no matter what. But it’s not just by moving here – although that is an important part – it’s by being unapologetically, unashamedly and PUBLICLY Jewish.

And it’s not about how religious you are: it’s about how you see yourself, how you identify. How you connect. This is something that we Jews and Israelis really get. It’s not necessarily about how often you go to synagogue. It’s about turning your local shelter into a dance party, about participating in a street wedding because you happened to be walking by on your way home from work. It’s about volunteering, about hosting a pot-luck Shabbat meal and inviting strangers you met at the shuk; it’s about serving in the army, about standing united in a large crowd and belting out “Hatikvah” at the top of your lungs.

It’s about belonging.

To my friend: it’s never too late. Find that thread of DNA that your parents gave you and explore it. It’s time to shed your shame and step out into the open.

You’re Jewish. Find your pride. And be just that.

© The Times of Israel (Blogs)