London

Diversity defined my Shabbat in London last weekend—diversity in history and heritage, stories and studies.

Unlike Paris, Madrid, and Brussels, there were no police cars, military officials, or armed guards seen outside of the synagogue that was located in a residential neighborhood in central London. Walking up the steps, I shared my name with the security individual who held a wooden clipboard with a print-out of all the names of students attending the Shabbat FND (Friday Night Dinner) that evening. Crossing my name off the list, he directed me inside, where I found myself in the large lobby of the building. Hearing banter and laughter from downstairs, I descended the wide wooden steps in the center of the lobby.

In the basement of the building, a few clusters of about 20 students total gathered in the entrance of the social hall. Walking in and being met by faces of total strangers, I flashbacked to my Shabbat dinner experience with the UEJF in Paris, the only other student-only Shabbat experience I have had in Europe. I remember standing by myself before the dinner began, mustering up the courage to identify a group of students that seemed approachable to start a conversation. So again, mustering up the courage I first found in Paris, I approached a group of students, introducing myself and explaining how and why I found myself at FND. As I introduced myself, I felt a smile spreading across my lips and heard my voice rising a few octaves to exude warmth and kindness. I shared my name, hometown, and study abroad location and major for the semester. I also, though, shared that every weekend I travel to different cities across Europe, and in those cities, I find—and make—experiences to discover the Jewish community there. This last part caught the attention of these studies, asking me to rattle off the other cities I traveled to and had Shabbat experiences: Brussels, Copenhagen, Paris, Lisbon…

Around me in the social hall, pale yellow wallpaper lined the tall walls that met the dark wooden floor, together contributing to the glowing, romantic lighting and mood filling the room. The many round tables were covered by a formal white table cloth, and a pretty circular shape lay in the center of the table madeup of unfolded party napkins that displayed the British flag. Conversation and laughter grew as more and more students trickled in. Student committee members dashed around the room, helping the staff to finish setting the tables with eating utensils, bringing trays of hot food to the serving table, and allocating two bottles of red and white wine per table for the kiddish.

About half an hour after arriving at the time the dinner was set to begin, one of the student volunteers asked the clusters of perhaps 80 plus students total to start making their way for the tables. If I was at the Hillel on my campus at home, this would be followed by a mad-dash towards whatever table had enough space for a group of friends and was located closest to where the hot dishes were served. Slowly, the students migrated and claimed various tables for their groups of friends.

I joined my new friend Mikol, the girl I stood next to earlier waiting for the dinner to begin, and her Italian friends for dinner. To my right were about four Italians, all of whom were studying permanently in London and all of whom called Rome their home. To my left was an empty seat followed by two Americans from Portland, oddly enough, both studying abroad in London for the semester. A rush of Italian quickly enveloped my right ear, so I switched over a seat to learn more about the two Americans. The two girls met in high school youth group (BBYO) and coincidentally were both studying in London. One of the girls invited her friend, who although had been in London since the fall, was at her first Shabbat dinner with FND. Mid-conversation and before the blessings begun, I heard my name excitedly called from behind me, turning around in my seat to see an American friend from Madrid, who I saw last at a Shabbat dinner in Madrid two weeks before. Of all the Shabbat dinners in London that evening, I ran into someone I knew.

After the first two rounds of delicious hot food, I again joined conversation with the Italians at my table, becoming engrossed in each student’s story. In particular, I was intrigued by what Mikol shared with me about herself in near-perfect English. She is Italian, where her family roots are connected to that of the Jewish community in Rome, and yet she grew up in Germany, lived in New Haven, Connecticut as a teenager, and now studies physics in London. Another girl I met was technically from Slovenia in a town that was ten minutes from the Italian border. She grew up speaking Italian, the language she spoke at home. When I asked more about her complex, interconnected upbringing of different nationalities and ethnicities, she smiled. It's a Jewish story, she told me.

Before dessert, a South African also completing his undergraduate degree in London joined our table and conversation. I asked all of these students about their heritage, and I learned that Italians consider themselves neither Ashkenazi nor Sephardic—they are Italian. The Jewish people have lived in Italy dating back for more than two thousand years, and it was fascinating to learn both what being Jewish meant and how it looked for these Italian students. For example, they considered the Jewish community in Rome to be much more tightknit than other Jewish communities in Europe, as one girl explained that she had difficulty finding a Passover seder for her friends to attend while in Rome next month. The conversation turned to the topics of Israel and Zionism, and curiosity plagued me. I too shared about my Zionism and experiences in Israel. On the topic of Passover, the South African student jokingly commented something connecting Passover, Italy, and pasta. In turn, one of the girls critiqued his mimic of Italians by teaching him how to hold out his right hand and bring together his thumb, index, and middle finger to form the stereotypical Italian image. Before the South African was shaking his hand; the girl corrected him by showing him how to move both his elbow and arm to convey a more accurate motion.

This was one table among many at the FND Shabbat. This was one Shabbat dinner of many in London. This was one European Jewish community of many in Europe. This was one region of many in the Jewish diaspora around the world. And there we were—students meeting for the first-time and originating from Italy, South Africa, and America.

Ascending the steps from the social hall back to the lobby of the synagogue following dinner, feelings of awe, realization, and respect overcame me. I slowly stepped around the perimeter of the lobby, studying the decoration and content on the walls in an effort to internalize all that I was taking in. I could have easily been at my home synagogue in the Chicago suburbs, as I saw advertisements for upcoming social community events and Birthright trips for young adults. I also saw a large wooden memorial structure hanging on a different wall that commemorated the Jewish victims who perished in the Holocaust. Studying the numbers next to each country, I noticed the lack of digits in the numerical figure placed next to Denmark—a number under 100. I was reminded of my travels to Copenhagen and visit to the Jewish museum there, learning about the heroic acts of the Danish government to save and protect the Danish Jews. Then stepping a bit more around the room, my eyes gravitated towards a large wooden cabinet containing various silver Judaica items, one of which I instantly recognized—a silver breastplate covered by an organized formation of 12 gemstones. The very powerful, magical breastplate said to be worn by the high priests of the Israelites that I learned about at my Shabbat service in Lisbon a mere week before.

I am coming full circle.