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Discovering a Jewish Community Through Duke

The journey from Alabama to Duke was meaningful one for student

Laura Newland at the Freeman Center.

I experienced a true culture shock when I came to Duke. I could not believe how many Jews were here. Although many of my classmates commented on how "un-Jewish" Duke was, I wholeheartedly disagreed. To me at least, 10 percent was a huge proportion. There were not even 10 Jews in my entire high school.

I grew up in the heart of the Bible Belt. Most of you probably don't think of Alabama as a hub for Jewish life, and you are right. My state is hardly known for its thriving Jewish communities. Fortunately, a few of Alabama's larger cities have respectable Jewish populations; unfortunately my town, Auburn, is not one of them. We are lucky enough to have our own synagogue and rabbi, but there are very few Jewish youth. At my high school, the only one in Auburn, I graduated with 400 other students. Besides myself, only one was Jewish.

Growing up, I was always "the Jewish kid." At times it was a label I welcomed. I was not ashamed of my faith, and I understood the importance of my role as the representative of this unfamiliar religion. I answered plenty of questions about the matzoh I would bring for lunch or the days of school I would miss each fall for the High Holidays.

At other times the label was a burden. There was no such thing as "power in numbers." I was the only line of defense against ignorance, offensive jokes or the lessons that so many of my peers learned at church about their Christian responsibility to save others. After years of answering questions and resisting attempts to change, I have a greater appreciation of my religion and values. However, I decided that a large and active Jewish population was a prerequisite for any college I would consider.

Culture shocks seem to follow a characteristic pattern, and mine was no exception. Upon arriving at Duke, the first stage was amazement as I processed what this 10 percent figure meant: Jewish friends, services with a minyan and maybe even a Jewish boyfriend.

This stage soon evolved into a phase of learning. I quickly learned that despite a Jewish upbringing in my synagogue and my home, I had missed out on some crucial aspects of Jewish culture. It seemed everyone else had grown up in areas with a significant Jewish population. Jewish youth groups, kosher restaurants, Jewish day schools and Jewish community centers had never been part of my upbringing. But to most Duke students, this was the norm. I learned that although I had a bat mitzvah, I had missed out on the real rite of passage for any Jewish kid: summer camp. I learned that challah is not something that you have to make at home, but something sold at bakeries, and that real bagels do not come from Panera.

In my final stage of this culture shock, the shock itself began to fade as I embraced this new 10 percent culture. The Freeman Center and its staff welcomed me and all other students with open arms. I quickly involved myself in Jewish life.

I realized that the opportunities afforded to my friends back home were no longer exclusive to Christians. Growing up, I had envied my peers for the experiences their faith had provided them: friendships, social programming and international travel to complete mission work. Because of the Freeman Center, I was now eligible for all of this and more.

One of my most memorable experiences of Jewish life at Duke is the Alternative Spring Break Trip to Uruguay, in which I participated last March. This trip is, year-after-year, a profound experience for every participant because of all that it offers. We learned from the rabbi about Judaism and our consequential obligation to help those in need; we coordinated fund-raising efforts to cover our expenses; we witnessed unimaginable poverty; we made a real difference in a family's lives by building them a house; we experienced a new country and culture; and above all, we had a great time.

Using our faith as an impetus to serve others was an empowering experience for all of us. Although service was the primary component of the trip, we also devoted a lot of time to getting to know the Jewish community in Montevideo. Much to our surprise, there are a lot of Jews in Uruguay, and they are thriving. We learned about their fight to keep Judaism alive despite countless obstacles, and we were amazed by their success. I felt a connection to the Jews of Montevideo because I understood firsthand the struggle of forming a Jewish identity in a society permeated by the belief that the Christian tradition must be upheld. In Uruguay, whether we were at the Jewish Day School, the Jewish retirement home, or a standing-room only Shabbat service, we found it hard to believe that we were in South America, feeling such a deep connection to a people whom we had never met before and did not even speak our language.

The Uruguay trip exposed me to aspects of Judaism I had not yet experienced. I learned about the Jewish responsibility to give to others. And, for the first time, I truly understood the connection that binds all Jews, regardless of the diverse locations that we call home. I not only felt this connection with the Uruguayan Jews, but also with the Duke students on the trip. There was a strong sense of community within the group. Friendships were easier to build because we shared the same faith and backgrounds. This sense of community is what makes Jewish Life at Duke special.

I still feel that 10 percent is a large amount of Jews, but I have also realized that 10 percent is only a number. A university's Jewish population cannot be defined by numbers, but by the organizing body within that fosters a community and ensures that students have meaningful Jewish experiences. For me, the Freeman Center has done all this and more, as I have felt a sense of belonging and an acceptance that I had never before experienced.