In the spring of 1984, somewhere in the Pacific, the Jewish sailors of the US Navy's Battle Group Bravo gathered for the Passover meal onboard the USS Kitty Hawk, the battle group's aircraft carrier. Among the signalman of the USS Lewis B. Puller, Seaman Oseas and I donned our cranials-- US Navy flight deck head protection-- and vests and goggles, and we stood by on the Puller's helo deck as a big CH-46 Sea Knight helicopter hovered overhead. A crewman dropped a cable with a loop in it down to the flight deck, and one of the Puller's boatswain's mates grabbed it and waved me over. I ran, head low, through the windstorm created by the helicopter's twin rotors. The Boatswain's Mate jammed me into the loop and I was jerked upwards into the air, spinning around until the helicopter crewman pulled me onto the ledge of the machine's open hatch. I was dragged inside as the loop was lowered to pick up Seaman Oseas and the other Jewish sailors from the Puller. In all, we numbered only a handful. Once we were all safely seated on the CH-46, another Boatswain's Mate on the helo deck spun his hand around, then extended his arm, index finger pointing, to send the raucous machine away. It lifted and turned and I got a good view of the entire battle group in formation, and though it seemed large from the signal bridge, it seemed insignificant from the air, backdropped against the vast Pacific ocean. I looked at my Jewish shipmates, and among them, only Oseas also seemed to be enjoying the view. The others kept their eyes cast downward. After a short flight of just a few minutes, we landed on the flight deck of the Kitty Hawk. We were quickly shuffled off the CH-46 -- every aspect of navy flight ops is fast-- and we scurried out from beneath the windstorm of the big rotors. Once at a safe distance, we removed our flight gear, gave each other a dazed look, and heard a voice from the heavens.
"Shalom," it said, like a voice from God in a Biblical Hollywood film. Then it said, "Welcome to the USS Kitty Hawk."
In fact, the voice was from the Kitty Hawk's Commanding Officer, who was godlike if not God. It was delivered over the ship's 1MC-- the intercom system-- and was not from heaven after all. Nevertheless, we were awed to hear the voice, as it meant our arrival was deemed to be of special importance.
We were ushered off the flight deck and into one of the ship's wardrooms, which are usually meant only for officers to dine in. We were seated at a long table with other Jewish sailors from the battle group, and eventually a Jewish officer from the Kitty Hawk seated himself at the head of the table. We waited in silence for him to speak, and when he did he spoke joyfully. He told us about the Passsover, as related in the Torah, and about the customs and traditions linked to the meal we were about to participate in, called the Passover seder. Questions were asked-- Why the unleavened bread? Why the bitter herbs? Why dipping twice? Why reclining? Answers were given. We ate matzah ball soup and gefilte fish and a hard boiled egg, among other things. There was singing. There was even a glass of wine.
It was a joyous occasion, and even Oseas-- who had not wanted to come as he was not a practicing Jew-- enjoyed the time there, and seemed even to find some pride in his Jewishness. I also took pride in my own Jewishness. It was like being a part of a big, worldwide family. I had never felt so Jewish as on this occasion.
The only problem was that I was not really Jewish.
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I may have wanted to be Jewish even when I was a kid. The Jewish kids that I knew all seemed to be smart, and friendly. 'Fiddler on the Roof' made me believe that Jewish people were very special, and that they were the underdogs, and that they could sing well, and that they took hardship graciously. They were tough without being arrogant. They were funny. I wanted to be Jewish.
I don't remember the '67 war so well, though I am sure my father and mother would have spoken about it, and I may have understood that the Jews in Israel were fighting for their very survival. Later, I learned about the holocaust, and I decided not to like Germans. In elementary school I was in one class with a German girl who spoke with a heavy German accent. I joined in when many of the kids in the class surrounded her at recess and taunted her. We made her cry, and the teacher had some harsh words for us later.
I remember what happened in Munich in '72. I remember the war in '74 even better. The Arabs were dogs. They were throwing around their weight with all of their oil, and they were going to drive the Jews into the sea. But the outnumbered Israelis prevailed, and I remember seeing the news on TV and thinking the soldiers of the Israeli IDF were admirable.
When I learned about the raid on Entebbe through a made-for-TV movie, I was sure the Israelis had the most admirable fighting force on Earth. And they were all in it together. Even the women were soldiers.
In my early 20's, after having spent several years in the navy drinking and carrying on like a sailor, I decided to get religion. I was a little fed up with Christianity and all of the hypocrisy behind it. I had a few days off from the ship and I rented a little hotel room and instead of throwing a party I got some books and spent the whole time reading alone. I read a book about Judaism and decided then and there that I was Jewish. I also decided that Jesus was a Reform Jew. Reform Judaism appealed to me the most but I also decided that once out of the navy I would go to Israel to live on a kibbutz, and I would join the IDF. As Reform Jews weren't considered real Jews by the Israeli government, I decided I would be a Conservative Jew, and once off the plane, I would also be an Israeli citizen. I bought a Torah and a book explaining the Talmud and a big set of cassette tapes to teach me Hebrew. I was on my way to being Jewish. I even believed in God.
While still in San Diego, I secretly attended a Reform Jewish service. I sat in the back of a small group of sailors being led by a Jewish navy chaplain in song and prayer. I liked that it was an informal group. When the rabbi asked what the group should do for Hannukah, one of the sailors said, "Get a Christmas tree!" and there was laughter all around. After the service I asked the rabbi for a few minutes of his time. I told him I wanted to be Jewish.
"In what faith were you raised?" he asked.
"Methodist, I guess."
"So what's the matter with being a Christian?" he asked.
"I don't know... too much hypocrisy maybe."
"So what about Jesus?" he asked. "What's the problem with Jesus?"
I think I must have shrugged at this question without a word.
"See me in another year," he said.
Rather than being put off by this, I was encouraged-- it was like getting on a good team-- they didn't take just anybody.
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So when the word was passed a few months later that all the Jews in Battle Group Bravo were invited to the USS Kitty Hawk for the seder meal, I saw this as an opportunity. I went straight to sick bay, where the medical records were kept, and I asked the hospital corpsman for my medical record, and I found that part in it that listed my religious preference, which was indeed 'Methodist', and I took out a pen and scratched it out and wrote 'Jewish'.
"I thought so," I said. "Says here I'm Methodist when I'm Jewish."
"You're Jewish, Schroeder?"
"Oh yeah."
"Strange..." said the corpsman, looking over where I'd re-written my religious preference. He then put the medical record back in its file.
I then had to request permission to fly to the Kitty Hawk for the seder meal, and our commanding officer was one to know all about his sailors, and he knew I wasn't Jewish, but I was granted permission to go anyway, and the CO never said a word about it to me.
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After my Jewishness became widely known, some of my friends just laughed, some shook their heads, a few thought it was interesting that I was now Jewish, and a few showed an ugly side.
In the chow line I stayed away from pork.
"The ethnic Jew don't eat pork no more," said Parker, from Tennessee, eliciting laughter.
I'd driven with him from Tennessee to San Diego when we were both on leave, but now he kept his distance.
In Guam some of us went for pizza after a day of SCUBA diving. I wanted my pizza without bacon.
"It's fucking stupid, this no pork thing," said one of my friends.
While at sea I chatted with another friend.
"Why do you want to be Jewish?" he asked. "Where I live you see these Jews and on Saturday they won't even push the button to get the green light to cross the street. Are you gonna be like that?"
Another friend, from North Dakota-- a quiet type who seemed a little insecure-- now seemed emboldened. "Hey Jew!" he would say whenever our paths crossed, and he would laugh.
Yet another jestingly said, "Yoodah! Yoodah!" and pointed at me when we saw each other. He was imitating a Nazi or something.
But in Hawaii I went to a luau and met some Jewish guys there and I ate everything but the big pig and they said I was more Jewish than they were because they ate the big pig. They had seemed a little afraid to talk about their heritage in the beginning but after seeing my pride in 'being Jewish' they seemed to have a little more pride too.
In the meantime, I studied Jewish history, and how the wealthy Christians, in order not to dirty themselves with Mammon, would hand over their money to the Jews to manage it, and the Jews managed it well, and so got a reputation for being money grubbers, though the money grubbing was mainly for the benefit of the Christians. I learned about 2000 years of persecution that the Jews suffered at the hands of Christians, culminating in the Holocaust, and I learned about the Balfour Agreement and Britain's false promises to both the Jews and the Arabs, and I learned about Jewish terrorism against the British and the Arabs, and about Israeli Prime Ministers and politicians who were former terrorists, who had bombed hotels and massacred Arab civilians, and about the terrorism waged by Arabs against Israel, and about the wars and right up to what was then the present-- the invasion of Lebanon-- and I thought even then that that was the end of the IDF-- that the most moral army in the world was now just another invading army committing atrocities.
Then I got married to a Catholic and that was the end of my Jewishness.
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Nevertheless, while living in Portugal for fifteen years, I was a defender of Israel. When a young student commented that all of the problems in the Middle East were caused by Israel, I lectured the class for 15 minutes on how Europeans had driven the Jews to Palestine, so that whatever problems were caused by the presence of Israel were problems created by the Portuguese and Spanish and British and Germans and all of Europe. When a friend said something about the Jews killing Jesus I spent a full two hours lecturing him on who really killed Jesus-- those who hate anyone undermining a status quo based on fear and intimidation and on false gods like Mammon or Emperor (or flag or nation...). He couldn't escape my lecture because he was getting a ride from me. He was trapped in the passenger seat. He still talks about the experience.
When I walked from Portugal to the Middle East as a statement of peace I carried two mainly symbolic petitions: one for Hamas to resist injustice (because it is injustice) with non-violent resistance, and the other for Israeli settlers to stop building settlements on Palestinian land. Time and again, through Spain, Morocco, France, Italy... Turkey and Egypt, I defended my petition for Hamas, as many people thought it unfair to ask Hamas to resist non-violently when Israel was so brutal in its use of force. Everybody signed the petition to stop the settlements, but fewer signed for Hamas to use non-violent resistance. I argued with them that if they really wanted peace, they would want Hamas to stop using violent means to remedy injustice.
Then I was refused entry in Haifa.
I said all the wrong things.
"Walking for peace. Palestinian rights. Quaker. Wanted to walk through Syria. Walking to Egypt. In Turkey for three months. A friend in Iran. Not much money."
"But I love Israel!" I said. "I was even going to be Jewish once!"
"And now?" my interrogator asked, "Are you going to become a Muslim?"
I was refused entry at the Taba border crossing in Sinai too.
"Why are you coming to Israel?" I was asked.
"I have an invitation from an NGO that works with Bedouins in the Negev desert," I said.
They looked a little harder at their computer, then asked, "What happened in Haifa?"
Which essentially meant, "Go back to Egypt."
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Now in Germany, I was recently on a Facebook page that was supposed to be about making peace in the Middle East, but what I found it to be was a page on which Israelis and American Jews shout down anyone who suggests that Israel is at all to blame for the misery there.
With this recent Gaza massacre I have become inclined to completely disassociate myself from anything Jewish. Israelis have been openly and gleefully celebrating the deaths of children in Gaza.
In America, where people seem to be out of touch with reality regarding what is happening in the world, people nod and say, "Regretable, these things, but there will always be collateral damage in a war."
I must say that if any nation were to collaterally damage my family, by killing them, for whatever ideology or cause, I would be inclined to join whoever opposed that nation. Think about that. Your three year old daughter killed by some trigger happy punk in a tank or an airplane who says, "Whoops! Sorry!" Or even worse, your three year old daughter killed by this guy who says, "Yeah, well, she would have grown up to be a terrorist."
Anyway, as I say, I have become inclined to diss anything Jewish. But I won't do that. Though Israel seems to be a mean and ugly place right now, I will always love Judaism-- real Judaism-- just as I will always love real Islam, real Christianity, real religion of any kind.
And what is real religion? Real religion is about loving God and loving your neighbor, even loving your enemy.
Meanwhile, I would go back to that rabbi if I could-- the Reform navy chaplain that I talked to in San Diego-- and I would sit in for a service of his. Afterwards, I would remind him of what we talked about some 32 years ago, and if he asked me what my thoughts were now on becoming Jewish, I would tell him that I already am Jewish, and that Allah is for everybody, and that God is love.
