By Maya Menashe, Science and Technology Editor
Mark Twain once famously wrote in his essay “Concerning the Jews,” “If the statistics are right, the Jews constitute but one percent of the human race. It suggests a nebulous dim puff of star dust lost in the blaze of the Milky Way.” We are a people who, by all logic, should have faded into history, yet, against all odds, we remain. We are a nation that has been exiled and persecuted, and we have endured unimaginable tragedies, but somehow we still stand. How is this possible? What force has kept us not just alive, but also thriving?
I used to wonder about this a lot.
Growing up in Great Neck meant being part of a huge Jewish community. I grew up slightly more religious than the average Great Neck family. I attended yeshiva for middle school and was always Modern Orthodox. My faith grew stronger toward the end of middle school after making a promise to take upon myself more mitzvot if my father recovered from COVID-19. My values never changed though, as they had been instilled in me for as long as I could remember. Ironically, I became more observant after entering public high school.
During my time in public school, I started to actively follow more halachot and the ways of the Torah, but I began to forget why I was keeping them. Like some of my peers, a lot of these traditions were just things that we did rather than being deeply understood or appreciated. Although my high school had a large Jewish population, many students were secular and unaware of the depth and richness of Judaism.
At the same time, being surrounded by non-Jewish peers made me more conscious of the strong Jewish values my parents had instilled in me. This made me feel the need for a deeper connection to the Jewish community and our values. This is why I became involved in my synagogue’s youth group. I wanted to make sure that the Jewish values my parents instilled in me didn’t become just words and habits, rather something real and lived.
This is exactly why I came to Yeshiva University.
I came to be part of a community in which people saw their Jewish identity as something that shaped every choice, every value and every aspect of life. I wanted to continue growing in the ways of Torah and to delve much deeper into them than I ever could have imagined. I hoped to repay my parents and my Great Neck community for teaching me that the best decisions are those rooted in Torah and Jewish values.
I remember stepping onto campus for the first time. The smiles, the warm welcomes, the hands reaching out to help me with my big blue bin on move-in day. I felt like I was stepping into something bigger than myself. A fresh start, a place where I could finally be surrounded by people who understood me on a much deeper level. I was excited for everything ahead.
But as time passed and I started to get more and more involved in the different YU communities, I started to notice something.
Coming from a public school, I expected YU to be a more unified place because, after all, we’re all Jewish here. We all share the same holidays, the same texts, the same traditions that go back thousands of years. But I quickly realized that the divides between the different types of Jews become much more pronounced because the school is entirely Jewish.
Of course, it’s natural to gravitate toward those with similar backgrounds. There’s nothing wrong with having close friends who are like us, but it is just as important to show real respect to those who are different. If we make respect a central value, our differences shouldn’t divide us; they should enrich our unity and make it more meaningful.
I’ve seen the stares in the elevator when someone wears their most casual jeans, just as I’ve seen the silent judgment toward girls in long black skirts. Why should clothing dictate which “bubble” one belongs to? Just because somebody wears different clothing than what is traditional doesn’t mean the Torah values instilled in them long ago have faded.
I’ve experienced incredible kindness here too – the friends who lifted me up during my most difficult times here or the strangers who showed me tremendous kindness. These moments remind me of what truly matters. Still, I can’t ignore the way people judge based on culture, hashkafa (philosophy) or background. This isn’t the Torah I know.
Twain concluded his essay by asking: “What is the secret of his immortality?” I believe I have found the answer. Our survival has never depended on the divisions between us or on the labels we create for ourselves, but rather on the values that unite us. Our Torah, our sense of meaning and purpose, our commitment to being part of something greater to ourselves, this is what has kept us thriving.
Unity is the most important value that God asks of us. Even in times when we strayed from His will, our unity was what sustained us and led us to success. It shows just how deeply God values togetherness. Especially in today’s world, with all the uncertainty and antisemitism, it is more important than ever to remember what truly matters. If we look beyond the superficial differences and see each other as part of something greater, then our people’s survival is inevitable.
This is what has served us in the past and is what will keep us going, for eternity.