Wearing Our Jewish Identities

In 1885 a group of Reform rabbis gathered in Pittsburgh. They agreed on eight principles. Among them was the following:

We hold that all such Mosaic and rabbinical laws as regulate diet, priestly purity, and dress originated in ages and under the influence of ideas entirely foreign to our present mental and spiritual state. They fail to impress the modern Jew with a spirit of priestly holiness; their observance in our days is apt rather to obstruct than to further modern spiritual elevation.

Several weeks ago, an intelligent and well-spoken college student (Jacob Rosenberg!) spoke to the congregation about his experiences at the University of Pennsylvania. A congregant asked asked him if he wears a kippah when walking around campus. Jacob answered that he did not. Like his rabbi, he refrains from wearing such “rabbinical dress” outside of the synagogue. And so, perhaps, the questioner implied he can more safely walk around campus.

I have been thinking about that exchange for some time. I wear a kippah when I pray and study, and when I officiate at occasions, but not when walking around outside. We do not wear clothing that clearly identifies us as Jews.

Throughout the Joseph story, Joseph often changes clothes. In the opening chapters, his father places the coat of many colors on him and then his brothers tear it from him. There is as well the garment torn from him by Potiphar’s wife when she tries to seduce him. And finally, this week we read: “Pharaoh had him dressed in robes of fine linen and put a gold chain about his neck.” (Genesis 41)

By the time his brothers come before him, in search of food, Joseph looks like an Egyptian. He is unrecognizable. His clothes, and apparently his mannerisms and language, allow him to hide from his family even though he stands right in front of them. He is not yet able to let go of the trappings of his Egyptian identity and reveal himself to his brothers.

What do we hide? What do we hesitate to proclaim?

What do we reveal? What do we proudly declare?

Later Joseph removes his mask and embraces his brothers in forgiveness. He is only able to do this after realizes they have changed. When they refuse to consign their younger brother Benjamin to slavery as they once did Joseph, he is able to reveal himself. It is then that Joseph unmasks his identity. Joseph discovers that he is more a brother, and a member of the family of Israel, than an Egyptian. Despite the trappings of his attire, his inner self becomes one with his outer identity.

Are we the same on the outside as we are on the inside?

Recently I asked my seventh graders what they can do to proudly declare their Jewish identities. They offered answers that spoke to clothing and dress. “Wear Jewish swag,” one suggested. “What’s Jewish swag?” I asked. “IDF T-shirts! Bar mitzvah sweatshirts. Bat mitzvah hats.” Other chimed in, “Wear a Jewish star.”

No one suggested a kippah. Another student offered, “Give tzedakah. Be kind to strangers.” I asked, “How would someone know that you’re doing those things because you are Jewish?” We arrived at answer. Perhaps it is not so much about what others think and more about reminding ourselves who we are.

Still the question remains, what more can we do to wear our Jewish pride on our sleeves? What can we do to remind ourselves, and others, that we remain proud Jews?

I don’t believe it is as simple as a kippah. I do think it is a continuous effort—inside and out.