ByKeren David, Keren David
'Jewish culture is often quite separate from the mainstream Jewish community. It is not based in synagogues, nor is it run by communal bodies. It allows individuals to create their own version of being Jewish, and it has no entry barriers'
May 27, 2020 12:00
One of the aspects of my job that always amazes me is the extraordinary volume of Jewish-flavoured arts activity in the UK. For every big hitter — Leopoldstadt, Fiddler on the Roof - there’s a Jewish guy standing in front of an audience somewhere like Plymouth, talking about his relationship with his mother. And I don’t necessarily mean David Baddiel.
For a small community, we certainly punch above our weight when it comes to cultural activities. Piles of books are published every year on Jewish themes. Theatres, large and small, show plays which examine Jewish identities, dilemmas, history. Films – short and long, feature and documentaries — do the same.
Klezmer music is a joyful entry for many into Yiddish language and culture, a way to dance and sing one’s way into another world. The Jewish Museum’s exhibitions are reviewed in national newspapers, and travel the world. One of the nation’s favourite sit-coms is about a Jewish family. There are weeks when I thumb through the glossy magazines that come with the Sunday papers, and wonder if their editors are auditioning to work for the JC.
Jewish culture is often quite separate from the mainstream Jewish community. It is not based in synagogues, nor is it run by communal bodies. It allows individuals to create their own version of being Jewish, and it has no entry barriers. You don’t have to be halachically Jewish to make Jewish art, nor do you have to take any test of faith, or attend synagogue. You can collaborate with non-Jews to make this Jewish art. You can say whatever you want. This freedom can feel scary to those who prefer that Jews keep their heads down, and to those who insist — impossibly — that we should all sing from the same machzor. But it is profoundly liberating and life-enhancing to many.
I have a book coming out next year called What We’re Scared Of. It’s about contemporary antisemitism (‘‘Not another one!’’ I hear you cry, like a flock of Brendas from Bristol) but it’s different in that it’s Young Adult fiction, told from the dual-points of view of twin sisters who have a Jewish mother and a non-Jewish father, and have been brought up with little knowledge and understanding of their Jewish heritage.
An important scene takes place in the Jewish Museum in Camden where the girls are taken to see the Jews and Money exhibition which traced the roots of European antisemitism. For the purposes of fiction, I made this exhibition a permanent one. One sister reacts with bemusement — ‘‘what has this got to do with me?’’ The other takes it as a call to action. She realises that antisemitism can seek her out, and decides to do what she can to combat it.
We do not all grow up in Jewishly observant homes, go to Jewish schools, understand how to follow a synagogue service, or particularly want religion in our lives. Some people become political Jews, drawn to declaring their Jewish identity to campaign against hate, or to loudly declare their support or opposition to the Jewish state.
But many, many Jews call themselves cultural Jews and find joy and growth through consuming and creating art (and indeed, food) with a Jewish flavour. Through Jewish art of all kinds, others confront and embrace their Jewishness. What’s more, they reach out to the non-Jewish world in a way that few other Jewish organisations do.
I can’t be alone in feeling that this period of enforced domesticity, the reliance on screens, has made me appreciate all the more the chance to go out and experience real life, and that includes live theatre, live music, visual art and artefacts in museums. But we need to act now to ensure those things are still around when life resumes.
Our Jewish cultural charities urgently need your support. We’re all going to have to dig deep in the coming year to support our institutions, especially those that care for the elderly and for disabled people. It’s understandable if people feel that they want to prioritise those core causes, if placed against a museum, a film festival or an art gallery. It’s also easy to shrug and say that artists are rich, and can fork out for luxury extras themselves.
But artists are generally not rich, and celebrities are thin on the ground. Now is the time for that elusive creature, the cultural Jew to come to the fore. If you love Jewish art — whatever form it takes — and see it as an essential part of your Jewishness, then please show that love by supporting one of the many Jewish cultural charities that needs your help. UK Jewish Film, which runs a world-leading film festival, the Jewish museums in Camden and Manchester, the Jewish Music Institute, the Ben Uri Gallery — all do wonderful work, and all deserve support.And don’t forget the individual artist or show as well.
Eating bagels, discussing Woody Allen, reading Howard Jacobson, singing along to Yentl and retweeting David Baddiel is no longer enough.
