Tradition! or Why I Can’t Be a Jew or a Muslim or a Christian, Either

It’s nearly 1 a.m. and I have no business being awake, as I need to go to work tomorrow (and complete an assignment for MTV News, and go to my friend Dean’s show tomorrow night). But I felt like staying up and reading. This time, though, I didn’t pick up Paul Johnson’s “A History of the Jews” (I borrowed it from my friends’ “Jewbrary”) and contemplate whether or not it’s possible to convert to Judaism when you (by which I mean me) reject the notion of a homeland, the idea that any supreme being would pick a “chosen people,” and oppose many of the military actions taken by the Israeli occupiers against the Palestinian people over the past several decades (and yes, that includes the massacre at Sabra-Shatila. I love how people wonder why the Palestinians are so angry.)

(It would perhaps not be a leap of logic to conclude that, if I were to meet Alan Dershowitz in the street, I might call him a stupid fuckface bigot. At least in my head. Also, the ADL can suck on it and Birthright Israel can go fuck itself repeatedly.)

But like, I dig the Jewish emphasis on learning, the primacy of food and family, the rituals, the way the festivals mark the passing of the seasons, etc. I like the vibrant history of humor, the incredible diversity of the Diaspora (again–back to that concept of a homeland!), and all the vegetarian dishes (plus the matzoh ball soup, which ain’t vegetarian but IS the greatest healing substance known to man).

When I read about the history of the Jews (not just in Paul Johnson’s admittedly one-sided book) or hang out at Pesach or watch my friends’ kid light the Shabbos candles, I feel a certain something that says to me, “Ahhh. Now this I can relate to.” I don’t know how to explain it or why it’s there, but it’s there, and it always has been. The Catholics, not so much. The evangelical Christians, no fucking way. The hippie Unitarians–ehh. And the Muslims, well–unlike the majority of Americans, who only see Muslim people as caricatures on TV, I’ve been blessed to meet Muslims from a decidedly progressive, badass, modern, funkyfresh sector that has very little to do with cousin-marrying and burqa-sporting. And yet I have to say that nothing about Islam says to me, “This is your spiritual home. Come hang out with us, dude.” Which is how I feel when my surroundings get super-Jewy.

I can’t get past the Israel thing, though. I just can’t. And it’s not just the modern state of Israel, either. I’m talking about the idea that any swath of land–whether we’re talking Palestine or Puerto Rico–inherently belongs to any people by some divine right. Unh-uh. Nope. That fairy-tale bullshit dressed up in ceremonial robes holds no power for me. And yet it’s so absolutely foundational to the faith. Being a Jew with no interest in–and, indeed something of an aversion to–Israel would be like…like…okay, imagine all of a sudden Tupac had been like, “You know what? California isn’t so great after all. I mean, it’s fine, but I could be just as happy living in Boise or, like, Munich. And the people in California are really no better or worse than any other people anywhere.” And then he happily moved to Idaho, rapping merrily all the way. And other people would be like, “BuhSCUUUZE me? I did NOT buy the ‘Calfornia Love’ single to hear you go back on that shit and watch you move to Idaho!” And then he would’ve got shot anyway, either by pissed off fans or by a drunken old Idahoan confused at the presence of a dude darker than ecru hanging around his town.

That just went way the fuck off the rails there.

I’m going to bed.