As I sit here and nibble on my ham sandwich, I find myself contemplating what it means to be Jewish in the South. I grew up in a quasi-religious family; we went to temple on a fairly regular basis, I was bat mitzvah’d and observed the big holidays (Yom Kippur, Rosh Hashanah, Passover), but I didn’t really think much about being Jewish. Living in the suburbs right outside of D.C. being Jewish, or Catholic or Muslim or whatever was never an issue, people were more concerned with your political affiliation: are you a Republican or Democrat or what? I never even gave much thought to my religion, and then I moved to the South.
Despite the mass influx of northern transplants, the South is still very much the Bible Belt. Religion, especially Christianity, is everywhere and ingrained in everything. People talk about it at the grocery store, at the gym and in play groups! I thought religion was one of those things you didn’t talk about like money and politics. Not so. Not here.
At first I would get highly offended when people would ask what church I went to, or tell me about a great sale on Easter dresses for my daughters. I would seethe when clerks sang out “Merry Christmas”; I would always snap back “Happy Hanukkah” with a holier-than-thou attitude.
But I’ve learned a lot about myself and my religion in the last ten years since I’ve moved southward. And now I understand it’s not malice but inexperience. I have made a lot of really wonderful friends since living here and for more than a few I am the only Jew they know. It’s a lot of responsibility, being the sole representative of a whole religion. So I take it seriously and often ask myself: what exactly does it mean to be Jewish in the south? Especially if you’re not even sure what being Jewish means to you.