Knowing that this morning would be sans-breakfast, I slept in for a bit. In a mere 15 minutes for proper dressing and procedures of good hygiene, I was ready to go and out the door.
Simply walking into the main building of school was a task onto itself. Deep in my heart, I knew I should not be there but instead at the synagogue.
Here's the thing about France that has come as a complete shock to me: the sense of nationalism. When I think of nationalism, I think of having pride in one's country, and uniting as a "one nation" yadda yadda yadda. My loose interpretation of nationalism doesn't quite fit the mould here. In a class, we discussed this notion. I strongly believe that what one learns in a classroom is completely different than what one experiences in real life. Well, over the past few days, I learned about this sense of nationalism in class, and (un)fortunately experienced it today.
The schedule for today consisted of information sessions, and filling out paper work. I'm all for being informed, I truly am. However, I'm also true to my roots, my heart, and my conscious. So, I painstakingly entered school today knowing that it was, for a lack of a better word, wrong for me to be there. I entered the office of a dean-like figure at the school. I started explaining to him that today is a very significant holiday for Jewish people, and that I absolutely must go to synagogue. I then asked if there was any possible way to get the paper work done earlier so that I could leave. Basically, he said: Nope, absolutely not. It's vital that you be here today. If you aren't here, you will miss crucial information that applies to your entire year.... Great.
So, after that great start to the morning, I begin to talk to another woman who is about to lead this orientation that contained, from what I understood, life or death information. Again, I explained my situation, and she replied with a response that was almost verbatim to what I had heard just 5 minutes prior.
And so I sat near some of my friends in the amphitheater of doom and waited for the presentation to begin. The tears in my throat moved upwards, and I felt an all too familiar burning in my eyes. Shit.
The presentation consisted of a few PowerPoints with some schedules, quasi-important deadlines, the definition and tolerance of plagiarism, the resources provided by the library, and then finally, how to get involved on campus (a presentation that we had seen the week prior). So, here I am, sitting with around 150 students from literally around the world, and I'm the only sucker who's silently crying. Why?
I have a few possible explanations...
1) I'm homesick: Well... perhaps, but in a much different way than you might expect. Do I miss my family? Absofrigginlutely. I'm talking about a different type of homesick though- This was the first time I have ever encountered a problem with being able to practice my religion. Sure, during elementary school I might have to miss a few days because of High Holidays. However, I was never reprimanded for missing school. There was never an issue with it- I'd maybe have to work a little bit harder to catch up on the material that I had missed that day. It didn't bother me that I had to explain to nearly everyone the meaning of Yom Kippur. While it's nice to be understood and relatable, I love to satiate inquisitive minds-- but these minds weren't inquisitive. Not even that, they honestly didn't give a shit. Honestly. So, here I am now, wondering: could I ever truly live in a place where there is no sympathy or apathy to religion? It's ironic to me that all of the national holidays in France have religious origins. I understand that these holidays are now strictly cultural as opposed to religious- but: If France is a country that believes SO strongly in separation of church and state, why hasn't it renamed all of the national holidays after the country vs. after religion. Why not rename "Christmas vacation" to "Winter vacation" or maybe "Vacances de Napoleon" or something like that. Why not introduce national holidays like Presidents Day, Labor Day, Memorial Day, or Cheese Day..? It's hypocritical to have a holiday that is "cultural" and derives from any religion if the country is so intense on "the state" having ZERO affiliation with "the church." Yea, betcha didn't think about that too much, did you de Gaulle?
2) I willingly made a decision that I knew was wrong: I didn't stand up for my religion. I didn't stand up for my heritage. I didn't stand up for literally the millions that have lived and died to stay true to their Jewish beliefs, faiths, and morals. I went to Israel a month ago. I went to a country that was founded by Jews that had survived oppression and escaped death. I went to a country that allows Jews to practice religion publicly. Could I ever call it my true home? Probably not, but I know that if needed, I'm always welcome there. So, here I am. Dena White, the American Jew in France, on a sunny and lovely day, huffing and puffing that the school won't let me miss class. So, as I sit in this amphitheater, barely listening to the presentations, I know that I should be elsewhere. I know in my heart that what I am doing is wrong. As much as my brain tries to convince it otherwise, my heart stays true to itself. During Yom Kippur, there is a prayer that is said multiple times. It's a confession. At one point, you clench your fist and place it by your heart. With each word, and line that is said, you (gently) beat your fist against your chest. "We have sinned against you willingly and unwillingly." For me personally, willingly sinning is much worse than unwillingly sinning. And here I am, sitting in this room, willingly not going to services on a High Holy day, the Day of Atonement, because of course registration... I'm not physically chained and locked to my seat. I'm not within the confines of a barbed wire fence. So what is actually preventing me from doing what I feel is right? Words. Threats of consequence. Jews before me have faced verbal threats and mortal peril. 6 million Jews died during the Holocaust because they identified themselves as being Jewish. They died for practicing what I practice. They took that risk to stand for what they believed in. No one is going to kill me or do any physical harm, so why didn't I stand up? Why was I too scared to do what I knew was right? What was the worst that could have possibly happened had I missed classes today? Not a whole lot, I think...
So, after a ridiculous few hours of presentations, we were given a 2 and a half hour break. Parfait! I hustled back to my dorm to pick up some of the papers I would need for later that afternoon, and then ran to the bus stop. I squeezed on the bus, much like herded sheep, and headed downtown. Knowing that I had to get lots of money out to pay for European health insurance, I decided to maximize my time by going to the bank first. I ran on the slippery cobblestones, passing an ominous cathedral, deeper into the city to my bank. My plan didn't work out. The bank was closed for lunch, naturally. Slipping over cobblestones, I skidded away from the city towards the synagogue. I arrived, sweaty and panting. I marched up the creaky wooden stairs to the women's section, plopped down at a bench, and had about 45 minutes to decompress, calm down, and focus on what Yom Kippur is supposed to be about. Aaaand time's up. I ran back downstairs, back into the city, passing the cathedral again to arrive at the bank.
I had about $150 US dollars that I needed to change into Euros to pay part of the insurance expense. I wait in line, and it's finally my turn. The bank teller asks for my account information. She's going to deposit the money into my account. Awesome! Now I can just write a check! Riiiiight. The money won't be available for me to withdraw until Thursday. So, having just deposited all of my money, I now must take out a few hundred using my American card. shweeet. There's not much I can do about the situation, so I take my money and start running. I end up by the buses. Deciding that I now am pretty comfortable with the different bus routes, I pick the N bus. I hop on, and realize that contradictory to what I thought, I haven't the slightest clue as to where I'm going. Aaaand I'm going to be late for the next session, meaning I will be publicly embarrassed by whoever is leading the presentation. I get off the bus at whatever stop it was, and recognize where I am. I have 15 minutes to get there, so I start to book it. In Reims, practically the entire city is under construction. As I walk unpaved sidewalks, through all sorts of terrain, I start to feel tired from head to toe. I'm hungry, I'm thirsty, and I am beginning to get blisters. I continue to fight the good fight and run to school with 3 minutes to go, sparing myself of potential public humiliation.
Yizkor (the big Memorial service) services begin at 4. So does the process to get my student card. I proceed to go on a crazy rampage, a scavenger hunt of sorts, finding every room I need to go to for a specific portion of the process. By 3:50 I'm done, which is before most of my friends even got started. I run out of the building and to the bus stop. And I wait. And wait. I'm on the bus at 4:10, and arrive at the synagogue at 4:29 (kudos construction, kudos). 'Well,' I think to myself, 'At least you'll still make the other half of the Yizkor service.' It turns out that, in true French fashion, the schedule was a little behind. Yizkor hadn't yet begun.
I saw the family that had invited me over for lunch the week before. Generously, they invited me for break the fast. The rest of the night tirelessly went on. At around quarter to 9, services were done, and we made our way to the cute house in the suburbs that I had been to before.
Some things are universal. For break fast, there was a lovely spread of smoked salmon, cheeses, breads, deviled eggs (not how Americans make them... they were deliciously prepared with basil and garlic), butter, jams, tea, cookies and cake. I ate slowly and cautiously, to prevent any sudden sickness. We sat around the table, discussing the day as any family would. Within an hour, my stomach (and heart) was happy and full.
All in all, today was difficult. It was thought-provoking, exhausting, bittersweet, and frustrating. Am I stronger, a better person, or somehow cleansed? No. I don't really think so. I do have a lot to reflect upon, and perhaps I shall do that within the next few days, weeks, and months. But for now, I think I'll go to bed.
Much love,
Dena
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