This past January, I had the opportunity to participate in a Birthright trip to Israel with 40 of my colleagues from Tufts. On the whole, the 10 days I spent touring the country were unbelievable – it was an experience that I will treasure for the rest of my life. But more than the places I saw or the food I ate, it was the experience of community that made the biggest impact on me.
The most valuable part, for me at least, of being a Theta Chi brother is the sense of community and belonging I feel whenever I step into my chapter house. I know that every single person in my brotherhood respects me, supports me and shares my interests. My chapter house will always be a place I’m welcome in, regardless of what I do with my life, where I go or who I become. Theta Chi will always be here for me and my brothers. That is the truest form of fraternity.
Outside of our chapters, it may be difficult to find another place where that sense of belonging is anywhere near as strong. We all have our respective college campus’s, but we obviously can’t find common ground with each one of our thousands of classmates. Groups of close friends coalesce around all of us, but those are often limited to a few dozen. The most obvious solution to this problem is family – and in many ways our brotherhoods act as surrogate families for us at school. We are all different, and we may not get along with everybody, but we share a deep, binding trait that brings us closer than insults or harsh words could ever separate.
And this brings me back to Israel. Even though we all returned to the same campus, it is not the other Tufts students that I felt closest to on my trip. Despite an ocean, and oftentimes a language between us, it was the interactions I had with the Israeli soldiers traveling with us that felt the most valuable, the most real. These were kids our own age, struggling with the same problem of growing up so similar to ours but living a radically different life at the same time. Where we were enjoying a fun diversion during winter break, they were given a 10 day reprieve from military service. When we were stressed about returning to schoolwork, they had to worry about returning to active duty. And none of us quite knew what it was like when one of our new friends described somebody he had known in basic training at that man’s gravesite.
But despite this gulf of experience, there was a common connection we all shared. And while identifying as Jewish didn’t seem like that much of a starting point at first, I slowly realized that this common ancestry and faith meant far more than I could have imagined. We had somewhere to being, and from there we explored what this similarity really meant. We were welcomed with open arms and friendly smiles, without any knowledge of who we were, simply because of what seemed like a quirk in our family trees. But the more I spoke with these soldiers, the more time we shared what it meant to be Jewish to us individually, the stronger that connection seemed.
I didn’t end up any more religious by the end of the trip. I don’t feel a particularly strong Jewish connection to Israel in terms of my faith or spirituality. But I do feel a firm bond to the people I’ve met due to our shared heritage. History, not religion, made the difference for me. These soldiers, thousands of miles and a world away, became my friends not because we both celebrated Passover, but because, at some point, we came from the same place. I had discussions about God and Judaism and Islam and Palestine – discussions which oftentimes became heated and tense. But we would always shake hands afterwards and buy a drink. For 10 days, I was welcomed as a brother by people I had never met before, simply because of a heritage that never seemed that important to me back home. An entire country opened its doors to me because of the blood we share, regardless of how far back that common relation lies. That is one of the truest forms of fraternity I have ever experienced in my life.
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