I have a hard time answering the question, “So how do you identify? Like, Jewish-ly?”
On
the one hand, I grew up in a Modern Orthodox home and attended Modern
Orthodox schools since kindergarten, but, for most of my life so far,
was part of a haredi community in southern Brooklyn. On the other hand,
I’m studying at the flagship institution of Conservative Judaism in the
United States, and, when given the option, often find myself in
egalitarian prayer communities as opposed to the traditional, Modern
Orthodox communities in which I was raised. And, even if I’m praying in a
traditional Conservative community on campus, I am still committed to
Modern Orthodoxy as a theology.So, the short answer is that I don’t have an answer. I am all of those things at the same time, and somehow manage to thrive. The long answer, however, is that I see three different aspects to my identity: my beliefs, my personal practices, and my communal practices. Ultimately, those are the three that are going to inform how I act as a Jew, and each has its own label.
The first is my theology. I identify most closely with Modern Orthodox or Open Orthodox Judaism. I believe in the validity of the Jewish legal, or Halakhic system, but also see a reasonable amount of flexibility to operate and innovate within the given framework of Jewish legal tradition. (For more on this, see Rabbi Avraham Weiss’s essay, “Open Orthodoxy! A Modern Orthodox Rabbi’s Plea.”) Modern Orthodoxy demands a commitment to the Halakhic framework that has been followed by generations of Jews that allows me to see the value in preserving said framework. At the same time, however, it also charges me to innovate within that same framework to create spaces for Jews who previously were excluded from the Orthodox community, either because of their gender or their sexuality, or a number of other reasons.
Indeed, this is possibly because to me, Modern Orthodoxy can only be seen as a belief system, not as a set of practices and rituals. Modern Orthodoxy dictates that we straddle the line between tradition and modernity, and see the spiritual from the mundane. How we do that, however, is up to us to decide, which means that there are so many ways for a Modern Orthodox-identified Jew to exhibit his or her Modern Orthodoxy.
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The
fourth and final night of the massive conference known as Limmud UK
coincided with Christmas, but you’d never know it in the auditorium
where thousands gathered on the campus of the University of Warwick in
Coventry, several hours from London. Instead, the focus was on the two
men who oversaw the annual marathon of non-stop classes, lectures,
debates, dancing, prayers, performances and late-night sessions at the
bar, all in service of self-styled Jewish learning.
With
its recent vote to boycott Israel’s higher-education institutions to
protest the country’s treatment of Palestinians, the American Studies
Association has itself become the target of widespread criticism and
ostracism. It has gone from relative obscurity to prominence as a pariah
of the United States higher-education establishment, its experience
serving as a cautionary tale for other scholarly groups that might
consider taking a similar stand on the Middle East. 
)
or Shechem (as it is known in Hebrew) as a Jewish city. In fact, many
consider that it is the most hostile of all Arab cities on the West
Bank. But this has not always been so. In the past, especially in
Biblical times, it played a vital role in Jewish history and many
important events took place in this city.
Shechem
is a very old city whose origins can be dated back to a period before
the arrival of the Israelites. It is mentioned in two Egyptian
inscriptions that are dated to the 19th century BCE. Rashbam postulated
that it was named after the king of the city, that is, it is the city of
Shechem. (Genesis 33:18). It was only after the Romans rebuilt the city
that they called it Neapolis, the Greek name for New City, which the
Arabs corrupted to Nablus.