We can't relate to this EU debate

The "People of the Book" are, in fact, the "People of the Books" and that's central to our distinct way of thinking. We crave context. We demand data.

Don't get me wrong. I've no doubt for a second there are many of us who are absolutely certain which way they'll vote on Thursday week. As much as we love verbal sparring, it's that very same fervent exploration of ideas that often leads us to firm conclusions.

It's more that, for many of the people I've spoken to at least , the prospect of having to commit our "x" to one absolute position, without caveat or condition, goes counter to everything we know. More times than not, we're "a little bit this, a little bit that." And not without good reason.

We're assailed by massively contradictory and dystopian claims, with each side's opinion immediately pooh-poohed by the other. Life-long allies are suddenly at each other's throats. Basically, it's every family Shabbat dinner you've ever been to.

Recently, in an incredibly honest article, David Cameron's former chief adviser, Steve Hilton, blamed "the professionalisation of politics" for the confusion and apathy this vote has produced:

"This is a 'game' from which most people are excluded, even though it is their lives that are affected most deeply by it… both campaigns, frankly, are treating people like simpletons."

Basically, it's the complete antithesis of measured discourse and we can't relate to this, because, in reality, it is not discussion, just bluster, It lacks the evidence and logic we've trained ourselves, by osmosis, over centuries, to instinctively seek out, assimilate and base our judgments upon.

But what an incredible problem to have. To my mind, it's the core of our Judaism, what makes us thrive.

We relish dissent. It's ingrained in us. We welcome honest, accurate debate, even if it's against the established status quo. We give our children the space to develop their own ideas, from Seder night to the youth movements we encourage them to attend.

And if you think it's normal in 2016 for kids to sit on the school bus discussing morality, politics and ethics, I've got news for you. It's not. It's extraordinary.

This thirst for respectful dispute challenges the pervasive, dangerous idea that religion, by its very definition, is a rigid, formulaic flow-chart of uncompromising, concrete dogma.

It smashes the misconception that we are a culture that propagates the idea of unquestioning conformity to ancient doctrine that, in turn, generates the fear that religion is incompatible with - and therefore a threat to - 21st-century values.

Yes, it's often imperfect, and we have a long way to go as modernity and tradition collide head on with increasing regularity. But much like your GCSE maths exam, a vibrant, dynamic Judaism values the "working out" as much as the eventual conclusion. The delight is in the detail.

We're at our best in the shades of grey. It's one reason we've historically over-achieved academically and professionally, and it's why polemicists within our ranks are rightly marginalised.

So, do all you can to decide whether you're a "Remainian" or "Brexiteer" on the 23rd, and do so knowing you'll likely spend more time than most assessing, debating and analysing every angle and argument you can fathom, trying, against your genetic instinct, to settle on a single "Inny" or "Outy" designation.

But, don't fight it. It's just who we are.