November 25, 2023
Author(s):
Parashat Vayetzei
Guest Speaker Lishi Baker
November 25, 2023 —12 Kislev 5784
Temple Emanuel, Newton, MA
We hear a lot these days about “the college campus,” and I just want to note, it is important to remember that every student is different and every student is experiencing his or her campus differently. I don’t speak for all college students, perhaps not even most, and what I’ll share today is my perspective based on my experience. I strongly encourage you to continue to talk to other college students you know – ask them how they have responded to their unique campus climates, and what they have been thinking about over the last 7 weeks.
In that spirit, when I think about my Jewish peers on the Columbia campus, here are a few types that come to mind.
For starters, a group that many of us are now aware of but that I will not focus on today, Jewish Voice for Peace. In all seriousness, I do think it’s important for us to try and understand what drives a young Jewish adult to celebrate the murder of his people and advocate the destruction of the only Jewish state in the world. But that would take a lot more than a Shabbat afternoon speech.
In terms of more common Jewish experiences, ones with which we can probably empathize a bit more, the first that comes to mind is the “afraid and anxious.” I have friends who constantly wonder who among their classmates was on the wrong side of the protests, and who literally check the list of professors who signed anti-Israel statements before registering for classes. The idea of being around these people makes them anxious, and they are afraid of what their Jewishness might mean when it comes time for group work or grading. It’s actually really upsetting to see.
Next, we have the “ready to get out,” the people who just want to get off of the college campus altogether. Just last week, Dani
Dayan, the chairman of Yad Vashem, met with a group of us at the Columbia Hillel. He wanted to know how the campus climate has affected us. The first person who answered told him that she is seriously reconsidering her plans to continue at Columbia for a masters degree. She is not the only one who has expressed eagerness to get out of the college environment entirely.
Another type of student I’ve seen a lot of recently is the “newly proud and identified.” One of my friends who was never really involved in Jewish life on campus told me that he has started untucking his Magen David necklace, showing up to Shabbat dinner at Hillel, and even wrapping Tefillin with Chabad on campus. There are others who, until now, have spent little to no time in the Hillel building, yet whom I now see there regularly, whether it be for work, hanging out, or even just the free coffee. I hate that it takes a crisis of this magnitude, but watching the ways my Jewish peers have embraced the community has been so uplifting.
That brings me to me, who I’d probably call an “over-engager” in the last 7 weeks. Before I jump into details, it’s important for me to say a few words about my background. I was raised in a modern Orthodox community, and I attended JCDS, Gann, and Camp Yavneh before spending my gap year at the Hartman Institute. In other words, I’ve basically spent my entire life preparing to engage. So here I am.
On October 12th, I published my first of two op-eds in a Columbia campus publication, in which I attacked the idea of a moral equivalence between Hamas and the IDF. This is something I never thought I’d have to write down. A week and a half later I published again. This time I explored decolonization theory, and I highlighted the irony that these campus groups declare themselves champions of peace and human rights yet celebrate a self-admittedly violent narrative.
I have also committed myself to learning. I already was planning to study Middle Eastern history, and now more than ever I feel very secure in that decision. I’m taking two separate Middle East-related courses this semester, including one with Professor Rashid Khalidi, who is probably the most prominent Palestinian intellectual since Edward Said. I spend time with him in office hours because I am obsessed with trying to understand not just the Palestinian narrative about the conflict, but the underlying framework through which he views the entire world. The more progress we make on that front, the less we will talk past each other in important conversations about our peoples’ futures.
I’ve also tried to show up publicly as much as I can. I’ve been wearing my kippah to class, which I hadn’t been doing before. And for two weeks following October 7th, I wore a 3 by 5 Israeli flag over my back as a cape every day. I just want to say, since you’ve likely heard the horror stories and might have winced just now when I said that, my experience wearing the flag around campus was totally surreal. I can’t count the number of fistbumps and “Am Yisrael Chai’s” I got, and one girl even thanked me with tears in her eyes as she told me that she lost two friends in the Nova Festival massacre and was just happy to see a friendly face on campus. That was moving, to say the least.
All of this has led me to something that I’ve been thinking about a lot lately, especially as more of my peers express how much they want to just leave. Now is not the time for a mass exodus from college campuses. It’s the opposite. Now is the time for the genesis of a new era on college campuses in which Jewish students carve out a leading role in shaping the values of these institutions. Not only do the institutions need us – and, clearly, they do. But in a society that values education and institutional prestige we should demand of ourselves that we not sacrifice our influence in the academy.
Of course, some of you might argue that “well, in the last two months these universities have forfeited their legitimacy as the true leaders of academia. It’s not worth our time.” I’ll say that in many ways you’re right. If the institutional values and leadership are this pathetic, then they have forfeited some of their moral and academic legitimacy. But the truth is, they still attract high quality students, and they still play a role in shaping the next generation.
So I cannot accept a scenario that leaves us outside the sphere of influence.
On a broader scale, the Jewish people and Israel need to remain engaged with the world, for the sake of continuing to spread loving-kindness, and for the sake of our collective future. As hard as it is, we have to keep striving not to talk past one another, but to talk to one another. Underlying that goal is a commitment to actively remaining at the table, even when some people at the table hate us. Though I would love to move to Israel someday, and I plan to, I reject the idea that Israel and the Jewish people will be a totally isolated shtetl, out of touch with the rest of the world.
Lastly, I want to talk about one more reason why now is not the time to leave these campuses: strength and resilience. Obviously, no college student should have to tolerate explicit physical or verbal threats to their safety, nor should we be subjected to the kinds of toxic Israel hate and antisemitism that we are seeing on campuses right now. It goes without saying that we should keep demanding that administrations respond strongly and appropriately, and I am thankful for the ways our community and Jewish organizations have been working on this.
That said, we will read next week about Yaakov wrestling with the angel, the story from which we get our name, Yisrael, because Yaakov struggled with beings, human and divine, and prevailed. If you read the story carefully, though, you see that Yaakov didn’t win. He simply held on until the sun came up. In this context, to prevail is to stick with it, to stay in it, and to wrestle until the sun comes up. That is Yisrael.
My friends are literally in Gaza right now. They are putting their lives on the line for the State of Israel and the Jewish People. American Jews better have the strength and resilience to be on a college campus.
When we focus only on those who hate us and submit to their hate, we homogenize an overly negative Jewish experience and we ignore key aspects of what college is supposed to be: Confronting adversity head on. Strengthening our Jewish
identities and communities. Taking on leadership roles. Engaging with competing worldviews and narratives, both in and out of the classroom. Getting comfortable in the uncomfortable. And, yes, sometimes even standing up to those who hate us. A college experience void of these fundamental areas of growth does not feel to me like a college experience at all.
So what will it take for more of us to engage?
It starts with education, because knowledge is power. We have to get more kids to Jewish day schools, to camps, to summer programs in Israel, and to gap years. And it’s not just about formal programs. All of us could invest more time at home reading, learning, and living Judaism and Israel. When it comes to being ready to engage, there is no substitute for a baseline of literacy. And, if we’re being honest with ourselves, the American Jewish community has clearly failed on this.
Without a strong Jewish identity and a baseline of literacy, how can we reasonably expect any young Jewish adult to be ready to engage in this world of hostility, complex historical narratives, and vast ideological diversity?
So, to the adults who are wondering what this means for you. Support us, check in with us, and be there for us. Fear and anxiety are real, and should be taken seriously. But do not coddle us. When it comes to the next generation, push us, engage with us intellectually, and model for us a commitment to learning and deepening knowledge, even if that means confronting really uncomfortable ideas. The more we enable a culture of ideological echo chambers, the less prepared we will all be to face the harsh realities of the real world.
And to my peers. First and foremost, keep on doing what you’re doing. I am inspired by the articles, videos, stories, and experiences that I hear about on other campuses. Remember, when it gets hard, we are all in this together. If we collectively commit to staying engaged, we will grow as individuals and, maybe, begin to heal this broken world.
Thank you, Shabbat Shalom, and Am Yisrael Chai.