OPINION: Rediscovering Jewish joy beyond the lens of antisemitism

‘Our love is stronger than your hate’.

I saw these words repeatedly flash up on my phone as I spent several hours doom- scrolling on TikTok last week.

The phrase often appeared overlaid on clips of Omer Adam singing ‘Ani Rak Rotzeh Lirkod’ and ‘V’Hishamadah’ at his one-of-a-kind Madison Square Garden performance earlier this month.

Instead of the uplifting effect its author intended, I actually found the sentiment quite disturbing.

Why are we letting this moment of peak Jewish celebration be marred by thoughts of antisemitism?

Sadly, it is a reflex that has become increasingly habitual in the diaspora Jewish community.

A survey into ‘Jewish National Identity ’ published in February 2024 and conducted by JPR found that ‘Remembering the Holocaust’ and ‘combating antisemitism’ ranked amongst the three most important aspects of Jewish identity – above ‘feeling part of the Jewish people’.

Meanwhile ‘studying Jewish texts’, ‘Jewish culture’, ‘prayer’ and ‘keeping kosher’ ranked in the bottom five – essentially denounced by British Jewry as fundamentally unimportant.

To me, these are profoundly depressing stats.

They show that our history, our culture and our practice have less value and are less interesting to Jewish people, than the hatred we face from others.

If this is really true, then it means that most British Jews have a primarily negative, defensive view of their ethnicity – characterized and defined not by our scholars and ancient heroes, but by the people who want us dead.

As English society races to an increasingly sectarian place, it feels like Jewish people too feel more defensive and isolated – finding identity not from within but in response to hostility from the outside world.

Many are exchanging Torah, family values and peoplehood for counter-protests, Instagram infographics and rallies.

This is deeply wrong.

The Holocaust and antisemitism are terrible, tragic things that have happened and continue to happen to us but they are not at the core of our practice.

They should not define Jewishness.

We are so much greater than the edicts and pogroms enacted against us.

In fact, how dare we allow tragedy, evil and those who hate us to define our identity?

If anyone reading this knows me, then they know I experience my fair share of antisemitism.

So of course I believe in fighting it.

But when I close my eyes and think about my Jewish life – racist abuse from the internet barely features in my imagination.

Jewish people are lucky enough to be born into one of the most rich and diverse cultures on the planet.

We have a religion and history spanning almost 4,000 years and we have a cast of inspirational role models and historical figures to learn from and celebrate.

From Amy Winehouse to Idan Amedi. From Albert Einstein to Hannah Arendt. From Queen Esther to Steven Spielberg.

These people are infinitely more interesting than Bob Vylan, Dr Rahmeh Alawadan, or any anonymous internet trolls.

Of course everyone engages with Jewish life differently.

But to me Judaism lives in my memories of rowdy Seder nights and delighting, as a child, in being allowed to stay awake way past midnight singing ‘Dayenu’ at the top of my lungs.

My connection to my practice sits in the back of the throat where I have screamed ‘Shema Yisrael’, ‘Shalom Alecheim’ and ‘Od Yoter Tov’ at the top of my lungs in front of the Kotel.

It is in the warming, sweet taste of chicken soup soaked Challah and the crunch that comes from spooning handfuls of reassuringly yellow osem soup croutons into my mouth.

My mouth waters picturing gooey chocolate-y Karma Bread babka and Roni’s doughy bagels.

It is in the rich, complex language that I have spent the last two years trying (and failing) to learn fluently.

It is in the wacky, biblical fairytales of our ancestral heroes like King David and Judith, who teach values of self-sacrifice and courage, as well as Abraham and Sarah who teach of faith and hospitality.

And on and on.

In the face of rising antisemitism, I have heard a lot of Jewish community leaders speak about the importance of ‘Jewish pride’.

At rallies, protests and vigils – which feel distinctly un-Jewish but have featured heavily these last two years in Jewish communal life – we are urged by our leaders to wear our Magen David necklaces and kippot openly.

We are told we should not be intimidated or fearful

This is of course true and important.

But to me this is not the definition of Jewish pride.

True pride in Jewish life is not rooted in a place of fear and contention but rather in a place of joy and respect for our heritage.

It lives in the connection with our people, our text, and our history.

Our music, our success, our community.

And this article, my own little ode to the Jewish people, is one small way I want to celebrate our people.

• Sabrina Miller is a journalist at the Daily Mail