My Jewish Journey

I think it's always interesting to hear the Jewish journey of people's lives. I'd like to share with you part of my Jewish journey. It's a long story, so I'll tell a very small part in this blog and write more in my next blogs.

I was brought up in a home in Milwaukee that certainly felt Jewish, but not in a religious sense. I think there were only a few people who were observant. My parents were immigrants from Eastern Europe. They spoke Yiddish, listened to Jewish music on the windup Victrola, received the Yiddish Forward that every week came in the mail from far away New York. My grandmother lived with us and spoke almost no English. She used to sit with me and taught me the Yiddish letters. I was about three years old, and I loved being with her and learning the beautiful Yiddish letters. My parents spoke “immigrant English. They went to Shul only on Yom Kippur and stayed for a while.  It was an Orthodox Shul and the congregation was a gathering of immigrants from Poland. I felt at home, and I wanted to hold on to this feeling. I thought that the Rabbi had the same feeling, and I had some feeling that I wanted to be like the Rabbi. What a weird thought for a little boy. Of course, I didn’t imagine how prophetic that feeling was.

The neighborhood was like you would imagine an old-time Jewish neighborhood to be. There were a dozen or so Shuls, a kosher meat market, a kosher bakery, a Jewish deli filled with the aromas of pastrami and corned beef, and a Jewish grocery store with mostly kosher foods. I suppose I thought that’s what the whole world was like.

Half the people in the neighborhood were the Jews from the old country, and the other half were Black people who were coming up North from the South. We had a lot in common, and I remember we all got along as good and friendly neighbors.

Since I would have a Bar Mitzvah when I got older, I had to start Hebrew School, Chayder. I never had to be urged to go by my parents. I enjoyed learning Hebrew and what was called “customs and ceremonies”. The school was all boys. Girls would not have a Bar Mitzvah or anything like that. The teachers were dedicated but had to yell a lot at the disruptive boys. Wanting to fit in, I guess, I was disruptive too once in a while. There was an air of anger. We went to the Arbeter Ring, the Workmen’s Circle, once a week to learn Yiddish and Yiddish songs.

My Jewish journey didn’t begin with even one step. I was born into being Jewish. Being Jewish was the way life was. I remember it so vividly, and sharing my memories has been a warm, nostalgic and happy experience. I’m writing about my Jewish childhood, so there’s a long way to go as my life unfolds. I feel like I’m writing a book. That plants an idea.

Much, much more to come as the years go by. Stay tuned.

~ Rabbi Emeritus Burt Aaron Siegel