By Julia Loeb, WLCJ International President
I have always been aware of the hyphen in my identity, Jewish-American or American-Jew, depending on the day, the moment, or the context. The order matters, and yet it doesn’t. The hyphen is a bridge, not a divider, a small punctuation mark carrying history, faith, culture, and citizenship.
That hyphen felt especially relevant on a visit to New York City last week. New York, the city with the second-largest Jewish population in the world, embraces Christmas with abandon. The city glows. Store windows sparkle, sidewalks shimmer, and even the most jaded New Yorkers slow down to admire the spectacle. Standing among the crowds at Rockefeller Center, craning my neck toward the towering tree, I was part of a broad and beautifully diverse crowd. We shared the same moment of wonder, and I found joy in it, even though it was not part of my own religious experience.
Friday night brought Shabbat, and with it, a sharp shift in both time and temperature. We visited a congregation that meets in a church, a reminder of Jewish adaptability and resilience. Outside, the cold was biting. Inside, the warmth was wonderful, physical, and spiritual all at once. Coats were shed, conversations softened, and familiar prayers grounded us. In that borrowed sacred space, Shabbat felt no less holy. Jewish time arrived right on schedule, indifferent to Christmas lights and freezing winds alike.
On Saturday morning, we stepped into a completely different world, a grand old synagogue rich with history and presence. Stained glass filtered the light, and wood and stone carried the echoes of generations who had prayed there before us. There was a bar mitzvah that morning. As the young man stood on the bimah chanting ancient words with confidence and joy, the continuity of Jewish life was on full display.
Moving between crowded sidewalks and quiet sanctuaries, between a church-turned-synagogue and a majestic Jewish house of prayer, I felt the fullness of what it means to live within the hyphen. In a majority-Christian country, the culture and language of “being American” are often framed by traditions that are not my own. Yet as a Jew, part of a small two-percent minority, I live within both worlds. The hyphen captures this truth, belonging to the mainstream while carrying something distinctly my own.
How fitting to be thinking about this during Chanukkah this week. Chanukkah is, at its heart, a story of preserving Jewish identity, of choosing to hold fast to who we are while living in a world shaped by others. This year, the holiday is tempered by sorrow, as we hold in our hearts the Jewish community in Sydney, Australia, after the shooting during a Chanukkah celebration there. It is a painful reminder that even moments of light can be shadowed by vulnerability. This week, we will light our candles not to compete with the brightness around us, but to affirm our own light, quietly and confidently.
This is the sacred space where Women’s League for Conservative Judaism does its work. By strengthening Jewish identity, developing leaders, and nurturing vibrant communities, Women’s League helps ensure that our light continues to shine for generations to come. The hyphen is not a weakness; it is a source of strength. And it is through intentional community and committed leadership that we keep that flame burning.
Shabbat Shalom and Chag Urim Sameach,
Julia Loeb
WLCJ International President
jloeb@wlcj.org
