Gabe Seplow enters the stage, lights a candle, and recites a prayer in Hebrew. He muses on the history of his people. How many times has he heard the, ‘You’re the first Jewish person I’ve met’ or ‘you’re the first Jew I’ve ever met.’ He notes that the single syllable – ‘Jew’ – bites in a way that ‘Jewish person’ does not.
He’s not particularly proud of his religious heritage, but he’s not not proud either. He’s inherited a story passed down for many decades. He recollects how others have perceived his people as lesser breeds; Hitler in 1936 and Shakespeare in 1596 when he wrote The Merchant of Venice.
Despite Seplow’s misgivings about his inherited faith, his refusal to go through a bar mitzvah at the age of 13, (and his lack of horns and a tail) he continues to recite Hebrew prayers. He knows loving and laughter and playing. He’s coming to terms with his identity. Like Shylock, in Shakespeare’s play, he declares aloud, ‘I am a Jew!’
This is a fine, reflective piece of writing. In a world where accusations and assumptions fly like missiles, it’s worthwhile to stand aside and listen. Seplow allows you to do just that.
Reviewed by David Kerr
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