By the second week of September, most college students have started to get settled into their dorms, classes, and new routines. It is an exciting, discombobulating experience, especially for Freshmen who find themselves away from home for the first time. Many of them have encounters that might never have happened before: they meet people who have never met a Jew.
Now, Jews are no strangers to being in the minority, making up less than 2% of the United States population. But it is fair to say that most Jews who find their Judaism to be an important part of their identity find at least some way to connect with other Jews, to bond with some other sense of communal practice. This means that most Jews live someplace where at least the concept of being Jewish isn’t totally foreign to those who live around them. This is often less true when college students from all over the country (even the world) are invited to share living and learning spaces in ways they have never done before.
When I first arrived as a Freshman at Indiana University in 2011, I was placed in a room with three other men from around the region. IU had oversold the dorms that year, which meant the four of us were expected to live in a space usually designated for two. It was…intimate, to say the least. As a summer camp veteran, I was used to this kind of degradation, I mean close quarters, so I wasn’t as horrified as my roommates. But as we got to know each other, it didn’t take long for them to learn that I was Jewish. And it took me only a few minutes longer to know that between the three of them, I was the first Jew two of them had ever met. Suddenly, I went from one member of my congregation back home to the single representative of our people.
This is Indiana University, home to one of the country’s most robust Jewish Studies programs and a thriving Hillel. Yet that mattered very little when I was asked questions that I never could have imagined. They asked me everything under the sun, including if I had horns (a very common question for first-time introductions to the Jewish people). Luckily for me, my hometown rabbi had warned me that this was a likelihood, if not an inevitability. But not all of our college students are as lucky.
The Cincinnati Jewish community has done so much in recent years to try to support and advocate for the experience of youth in our city. This is no easy task: what it means to be a Jewish young adult is changing every day, especially within the context of what the war in Gaza is doing to campus life. This week, we are reminded of the serious pressure that being an “other” in the world today can be and our sacred obligation to prepare them to be as confident, proud, and supported in their Judaism as possible.
One of the best ways we do this is by creating a global sense of peoplehood. As we get ready for the upcoming High Holy Days, we have the opportunity to remind our young people that wherever they might have wound up in the world, they are likely within driving distance of a congregation that is happy to welcome them, pray with them, and most importantly, feed them (except maybe on Yom Kippur, but even then before and after…) For students who might be grappling with the normal repercussions of homesickness, this season of intense Jewish engagement can be a meaningful breath of fresh air for students who can find their way to Jewish spaces that can feel quite comfortable and familiar. It is a sacred opportunity not only for a college student to double down on their Jewish identity but to be reminded that no matter how isolating it might be to be someone’s first introduction to Judaism, a Jew in community is never truly alone. And if you aren’t sure where to point the college students in your life, most Jewish professionals have a deep and intricate network of contacts that they can offer to help.
As the old song says, “Wherever you go, there is always someone Jewish,” even if others might not notice.
Austin Zoot is the Rabbi Educator at Valley Temple in Wyoming, Ohio.
