Jewish Apples

When my daughter was three years old, she announced one day, "From now on, I am not Jewish anymore." Oh boy, an identity crisis at such an early age? Now what? Realizing that the question of who and what is "Jewish" is a tough one to answer at any age, we, more or less, left it alone, hoping it would fix itself. It did. Years later, when we were buying organic eggs at the farmer's market, the seller offered her an "Easter egg."

"I can't have those," she answered. "I'm Jewish."

"I can't have those," she answered. "I'm Jewish" The farmer, a Mennonite who was all too familiar with minority culture and the importance of assessing one's identity, laughed it off. We explained to her that this was not that kind of Easter egg, but merely came from a special kind of chicken, and took it home. She still didn't trust it, and wouldn't eat the egg. So it sat there in our fridge, a symbol of our daughter's newfound sense of self.

I think when children start answering the question of Jewish identity, they feel a need to categorize each person, and every object. Jewish or not Jewish? I may be Jewish, but are my shoes? My goldfish? What about the President of the United States? And, while we're on the topic, why can't I hang a stocking from the mantle in December? What if it is a Jewish stocking?

Apples have been a source of trouble ever since they were wrongfully accused of making Eve fall. A few months ago, we went to an apple orchard in honor of the New Year. Afterwards, a friend of us decided to let her children help her clean the apples, and this involved some explanation of what to look for in a perfect apple. "No worms," she explained to her four-year-old son, "because worms are not kosher." He immediately retorted, "So they're Christian?" Oy.

Answering our children's questions about who and what is Jewish is harder than it looks. Elie Wiesel tells the story of the Jewish child, who asked his rabbi, "What is a good Jew?"

The rabbi answered the question with another question. "Do you think you are a good Jew?"

"I don't know," the boy said, after which the rabbi said that maybe good Jews are people who, when asked if they are good Jews, answer, "I don't know."

I ask my daughter whether she thinks she is a good Jew, and she doesn't hesitate. "Yes." I ask,"Why?"

"Because I say most blessings," she answers.

"What else?"

"I don't know."

At her age it's not necessarily the knowing that counts, but the doingWell, there it is. She doesn't know, which is okay. At her age it's not necessarily the knowing that counts, but the doing. From lighting Shabbat candles and giving charity, to attending Jewish Day School and saying the Shema prayer when she goes to sleep at night, her Jewish identity is being shaped by actions. She still has a lot of growing to do, and she'll get confused from time to time, but that's okay. There will be plenty of opportunities to learn that, sometimes, an egg is just an egg, and an apple is just an apple.