After interviewing a handful of young adults in the Jewish community of Buenos Aires, we have become aware of a trend toward orthodoxy prevalent among the younger generation. Uncovered through testimonies from both religious leaders and Jews in their early twenties, a pattern has been recognized in what seems to be an effort to revitalize the practice orthodoxy in a community that has been slowly drifting from the more religious aspects of Judaism. Similarly to the United States, Argentina is a country of immigrants and their descendants, many of who are from European countries and the Middle East. Though there is a greater Ashkenazi presence in the Jewish community in Argentina, the Sephardic community is represented as well, with separate temples and community organizations. As the generations drifted from their countries of origin, the Jewish tradition began to shift away from religious ritual toward secular and social tendencies. Over the past decade, however, the suggested movement toward orthodoxy for some young Jews illustrates the distinction between those who define their Jewish identity by their religious efforts, versus those who are simply “just Jewish”.

Natalie, a 20-year-old Jew living in El Once, Buenos Aires, describes the growing orthodox community as expanding right before her eyes, literally. Having lived in the same apartment her whole life, Natalie has witnessed first hand the changing religious climate. In the past 5 years, a new (and relatively large) orthodox temple was built across from her building, and, not long after, many of the surrounding restaurants began offering Kosher menus. Historically, El Once is a particularly Jewish area of Buenos Aires, though residents of the greater city have explained that now many Jews commute in to the area for work rather than live there as well. Natalie and her family, however, live in what she considers an “all-Jewish” building, and she has noted the increase of Orthodox residents. Furthermore, she expressed a distinct separation between them and the rest of the community. In her opinion, the Orthodox community rarely, if ever, blends with the conservative, secular, or non-Jewish communities surrounding them.

For Natalie, and other young Jews, this movement is more than just an observation, it is an intensely personal experience. We have heard a few stories from younger Jews who have, as they put it, “lost friends to the Orthodox community.” Sabrina Toker, another 20-year-old interviewee, described her friend’s experience with the conversion. Like Sabrina, who we met at the Jewish social club “Macabi,” she was raised by Jewish parents and celebrated her Judaism through “Jewish socializing,” and a Jewish family atmosphere. Though it was unclear exactly how or why she chose to convert, the Sabrina explained that within a year the friend had married and had a child. Sabrina was visually agitated by this and expressed her confusion and hurt toward her friend, who seemed to have changed from what the she described as “a normal girl,” to covering herself and raising a family by age 20.

Though the reactions from their peers seem aggressive, those who have chosen to practice in the orthodox tradition have done so for their own reasons. Ezra, a 24 year-old interviewee living in El Once, offered his personal insight into the trend. His conversion to Orthodoxy began after he attended a trip to Israel, advertised by an unnamed Jewish organization. He describes the process as being “gradual,” and “slow”. With his first trip to Israel acting as the catalyst (he has been four times in total), he then began to study Judaism with a greater interest. He describes his ultimate transformation to be purely spiritual, and commented many times about “feeling” Judaism and “finding meaning in everything he does”. Additionally, Ezra has found a love for this community, a place to share his thoughts, his practices, even his meals. While his parents have remained conservative, they have learned to support his choice, a choice Ezra defines as “his happiness”.

Though the perspectives of these young Jews offer little to each other, they help to color the big picture, and support a theory of growing Orthodoxy among the younger generation. Through Ezra, we catch glimpses of the appeal such a decision has: a sense of community, a deeper spirituality, security through an alternative understanding of the world; while through testimonies such as Natalie’s and Sabrina’s, we learn about the societal frustrations from Jewish peers who could never imagine such a lifestyle. Though the trend itself remains to be understood, these interviews bring us closer to one of the many worlds inside the Jewish community of Buenos Aires, Argentina.

Last week I had an interesting meal. It was not because I ate outside in a sukkah or because I drove my car to get to the holiday meal, for I have observed various holidays in both a traditional, more orthodox setting and also with more modern, reform traditions. Growing up in a reform synagogue, driving on holidays and wearing pants are familiar concepts, and over the past few years, spending shabboses with my sister, who is now traditionally observant, I have learned to be comfortable keeping holidays in an orthodox practice. So while neither side of this particular experience was foreign, it was remarkable because it was the first time that I have had an orthodox experience of this level with not only my sister, but also my parents.

Since my sister had become more traditional, about two and a half years ago after living in Israel for a year, there has been a weird dynamic within my family. The new lifestyle of my sister does not only bring about differences in practices, but also affects regular functioning as a family. We have learned in class that certain symbols of Judaism that hold communities together, no matter if the symbols are considered enforced by Jewish law or continued as a small tradition. A major manifestation of this for my family, and arguably all Jewish families, is food. It was a very difficult realization for my sister and mother that she can no longer eat in her parents’ home; to go out we have to go into Baltimore to eat at a kosher restaurant. Not that this is completely new for my family—my mother’s brother and his family are modern orthodox, so to an extent we modify family get-togethers—but the importance of the little tradition, as reflected in food, has become very vivid in the new restrictions of my sister’s diet. This sukkot meal was the first family-style meal that we have had in a long time.

This gathering was also significant because of the drift created between my father and my sister’s new view of Judaism. Growing up in a musical Jewish family in northern Jersey, religion for my father was much more about the culture and community than ritual practice. The seemingly sudden changes in my sister, and the unintended condescension often felt by families from a newly religious member made Judaism less appealing if anything for my father. It can be very intimidating as a more liberal Jew to interact with orthodox Jews in religious contexts, such as at holiday meals. I think how much he knew or recognized of the traditional meal, and how open everyone was to whatever made each individual feel at ease surprised my father. I was happy that we were all able to come together, and my parents could finally experience my sister’s new life in a way that I have been able to over the past year. It definitely was not completely comfortable, but everyone at the table was just happy to be celebrating the holiday in whatever capacity he or she wanted.

When interviewing for the fieldwork assignment, and again when reading others’ interviews, I couldn’t help but notice how much emphasis was put on fervent protection of and preservation of “Jewishness.”  Several interviewees mentioned interfaith marriage, and the majority adamantly opposed the idea. Since conducting the fieldwork, I have found that these themes continue far beyond these fifty-some individuals.  Throughout Jewish history and geography, the focus of boundaries and acculturation that is so prevalent in this class is all further evidence of the fear many Jews seem to have of “losing” Judaism – either altogether, or as a result of dilution and reformation of Judaism as they know it.

I addressed this topic briefly in my fieldwork paper, but I wanted to explore this idea a little bit further. The first question that came to my mind was why this almost possessive attitude is more associated with Judaism as opposed to some other religions. There seems to be much more conflict between Jews as to what “officially” qualifies as a Jew, whereas Christians often go to greater lengths to include EVERYONE in their religion (through proselytism, etc.) without much consideration of blood lines. One obvious reason might be the frequency of discrimination in Jewish history. Strictly defining the Jewish identity as distinguished from other religions and cultures is a strategy of defense – not only does it generally separate Jews from potential threats from outside cultures, but it unifies them as a collective entity. Conceivably, opposing opinions of two groups of Jewish identity (for example, orthodox vs. reform), especially when involving marriage, could weaken Judaism or even tear it apart.

However, I find it interesting that even with such a logical argument – unification of ideas means unification of cultural identity, which means unification of a people and therefore protection against other groups – Jews are also typically associated with the diversity of outlook implied in the saying “two Jews, three opinions.” The problem with the common orthodox and conservative emphasis on unity by way of determining “what is Jewish” is that you cannot decide for someone else what they are or are not. In class, when discussing what defines Judaism as a culture, Professor Staub pointed out that the beginnings of Judaism initiated by Abraham really did not follow any of the traditional definitions of culture; the only real differentiation between Abraham’s beliefs and the beliefs of his surrounding culture was that he was monotheistic, whereas his hometown of Ur was polytheistic at the time. Essentially, Judaism is a culture set apart from others mainly because Jews view themselves as such. So it seems counterintuitive for members of a culture or religion that is defined so internally to place judgments on others who consider themselves a part of that culture or religion. Therefore, when those Jews who reject people who define themselves as Jews, they are actually destroying the trust and unity that could otherwise protect Judaism as a faith and as a culture.