Searching for an Icelandic-Jewish Identity

I am a Jew, born to New Yorkers, raised in Los Angeles. Yet, it was moving to Iceland that helped me understand what it means to be Jewish.

It's strange. Iceland's entire Jewish population could probably fit into the booths of Canter’s Deli.

Growing up, my Jewishness was unremarkable. I didn’t think much about it. Being Jewish meant being part of a community. It was our culture. Our values.

To paraphrase Paul Rudd, we didn’t need to practice because we had perfected it.

I questioned the existence of God to the Rabbi during my Bar Mitzvah preparation. He told my parents that maybe a Bar Mitzvah wasn’t for me. My Dad’s response, "What's more Jewish than questioning God?!"

When I was asked if I identified more as Jewish or American, I struggled to parse the question. The identities were intertwined. In New York City, where I later moved as an adult, being Jewish was just part of being a New Yorker. My strong opinions on the best place to get a bagel or go for a schvitz? Those were just New York opinions.  

"NYC is our Jerusalem," my dad would joke. It felt true.

But then we moved to Iceland - where Christmas is celebrated with more fervor than Whoville – and my Jewish identity has come into focus. The ambient Jewishness I took for granted in America is absent.

I find myself becoming the keeper of traditions I once barely noticed. I'm not suddenly observant, but I've found myself seeking out ways to connect with my heritage. Despite my hesitations with the idea of ‘religion’, I find myself grateful to have the beginnings of a Jewish institution here in Reykjavik. I would not be sending my kids to Jewish summer camp in the States. However, here in Iceland, I find comfort knowing they look forward to their Jewish camp under the never-setting summer sun. 

My children are growing up with a different relationship to their Jewish heritage than I had. For them, it's not the default setting. They are half Icelandic. Or, perhaps just simply Icelandic. Or, is it American-Icelandic? Jewish-American-Icelandic? There are a lot of identities to juggle and they can blur together. I want them to be proud of their varied identities. I want them to know who they are. I want them to be proud to be Jewish and proud of our story.

I’ve come to recognize that Iceland and other Nordic cultures have a different relationship to ‘pride’ and yet still I want them to be proud.

There's a part of me that misses the ease of automatic Jewish life I left behind. The Jewish life that wasn’t a Jewish life and yet still was a Jewish life. I miss dropping Yiddish words into conversation and being understood. I miss having a shared worldview with my neighbors. And, let’s be honest, I miss a perfect everything bagel with schmear. But there's also something powerful about consciously choosing to maintain a cultural identity and its traditions in a place where they're far from the norm.

In a way, it connects me to the long history of the Jewish diaspora. Like my ancestors who kept their culture alive in far-flung corners of the world, I'm now tasked with preserving and passing on our way of life in a land where it's decidedly foreign. There are moments when I acutely feel my difference, not simply because I am American. The cause célèbre here is the conflict in the Middle East and it is a near daily reminder that I see the world as a Jew.

There are more practical challenges, as well. There is no separation between church and state in Iceland. You register your religion with the government and your tax dollars – or rather your tax króna - are shared with your denomination. Do I want to register my religion on the national registrar to support the Jewish community?

Do I want to be on a list?

Living in Iceland has forced me to confront new questions. What does it mean to be culturally Jewish in a place with virtually no Jewish culture? How do I assimilate into Icelandic culture while holding onto this important piece of me? And, do I need to be thinking about whether I’m exposing myself to certain risks?

I don't have the answers. But I've come to appreciate the unique situation I now find myself in. It's made me realize that being Jewish isn't just about the cultural signifiers. It's something more intrinsic.

When we moved to Iceland, I didn’t expect to be exploring this part of myself. But in this remote corner of the world, I’ve discovered a new lens into my Jewish identity – one that’s chosen.