Have we lost Jewish joy?

Have we lost Jewish joy? Have we lost the ability to come together joyfully?

When I first became President of JCCV, it was during COVID. As we came out of it, the pre-eminent question was how to get people back into shules and to attend community events and public gatherings.

In 2023, my final year as JCCV President, I worked towards a social planning office. We would look at the community demographics, analyse need, and act as a focal point for community discussion – should we combat ageing, or assimilation, or youth outreach? Should our institutions follow the Melbourne community as it moves South towards Moorabbin and Aspendale, and east towards Murrumbeena and Oakleigh?

That was the plan. An eager incoming executive was ready to go. I thought that, as national President, I would be doing similar work at the federal level – encouraging and co-ordinating similar efforts across the country.

Then 7 October happened. My national role as ECAJ President commenced less than two months later, in late November 2023. The consequences of 7 October, and its impact upon Jewish life in Australia, have continued unabated since. In November 2023 when my presidency commenced, the ECAJ had six staff. Now it has 16 and, by the end of the calendar year, 18. That growth has solely been driven by the continuing impact of 7 October and its aftermath upon Australian Jews.

Now, unlike COVID times we can gather in person and we do. But often, we gather for a different reason entirely. To talk about antisemitism. To commiserate and share our thoughts over the latest outrage against Jews or Israel, or worst still, an attack upon Jews. Even worse, an attack upon Australian Jews.

If the Jewish community puts on an event to discuss antisemitism, tickets will be sold out well in advance and the venue will be packed. The hottest topic of discussion at the moment is the Royal Commission. I spoke on it at South Caulfield recently, and my ECAJ colleagues are speaking on the same topic tonight at shules across the country.

At the Royal Commission, ECAJ’s co-CEO Alex Ryvchin gave evidence two and a half weeks ago that Australian Jews had asked him whether it was time to leave Australia. He said that he would stay and fight to the end, to preserve the Jewish way of life in Australia. But even that was not enough for one letter-writer in a recent edition of The Australian Jewish News. In a heartfelt plea, she chastised Alex and said that he should call upon the community to leave. Leadership, she contended, meant departing these shores.  I do not for a moment agree with the letter writer. I do however understand her position, and I recognise the feelings of fear and self-preservation that drive it.

We know why it is this way. But does it need to be this way?

My controversial idea then, is perhaps not so controversial at all. It is that we must not be defined or constrained by those who hate us. We must not gather in fear, circle the wagons, and murmur amongst ourselves. The Jewish topic du jour cannot be how big the conflagration is, and which way the wind is blowing. Clearly, modern antisemitism must be discussed. And in fairness, the Royal Commission events being held at various shules are more in the nature of information sessions. But antisemitism must not be the only topic of discussion.

In the UK, our colleagues recently commenced a Jewish culture month. It is massive, involving events and activities across the country. It has the support of public institutions such as the British Museum, the Tate Gallery and the V & A. The tagline is delightful: “less oy, more joy.” It is designed to showcase Jews and Judaism to the British people. To use their description, it is an “accessible, vibrant and proudly public celebration of Jewish life in the UK”.

It is in this vein that I contend that we must prioritise the good things in Judaism that bring us together: our observances, our cultural heritage, our songs and dances, our tradition of debate and discussion.

This must not be the exception to the Australian Jewish experience of the last two and a half years. We have to find our way back to Jewish joyfulness. Once we have done so, then and only then can we say that we are proud to be Jewish.

I, for one, refuse to measure my Jewishness by how hard I fight back.

Instead, I choose to measure it by how tall I stand.

I invite you to stand tall with me on that journey.

Daniel Aghion is the president of the Executive Council of Australian Jewry (speech delivered at Temple Beth Israel for Tikkun Leil, Shavuot).