A few years ago, there was a conference at the Hebrew University that dealt with the issue of Jewish peoplehood: "Is Jewish peoplehood a fact or a fiction?" There was participation of Jewish intellectuals from the Diaspora, and obviously there were the Hebrew University professors from the Department of Contemporary Jewry. The main disagreement was exactly along the lines of where one lives. The Diaspora Jews claimed that Jewish peoplehood is a fact (all Jews in the world are a single people), and the Israeli intellectuals expressed grave doubts as to the continuity of a clear peoplehood in the reality of today's Jewish experience. The Israelis spoke in more traditional sociological terms. "Peoplehood", in addition to narrative and descent, includes one's language and its unique social codes - and it includes a homeland. The loss of a Jewish language as well as the clear sense of belonging to other societies would indicate the ongoing disintegration of a common Jewish peoplehood. The Diaspora intellectuals, on the other hand, claimed that Jewish peoplehood means the "sharing of common values". In this view, Jewish peoplehood is a thriving identity, being expressed by so many Jewish writers and thinkers.

I identified with the Israeli intellectuals who expressed sincere worry about the future of the Jewish experience. I felt that the Diaspora intellectuals simply "changed the rules" - they re-defined peoplehood so that today's reality could be presented as a non-crisis continuity. At the same time, I was doing an MA in Jewish studies at Gratz College. One day, my professor commented that he lives in a "Jewish neighborhood" in Philadelphia. I found that quite surprising since I had thought the phenomenon of the Jewish neighborhood had ended in the 1950's. My parents grew up in the 1930's in Cleveland, and indeed they lived in a Jewish neighborhood. I have seen their high school yearbooks (a public high school in walking distance from home) - and literally everyone was Jewish, including the teachers. So, I asked innocently my Gratz professor: "Are there still Jewish neighborhoods in today's America?" His answer was: "Yes, my neighborhood is 15% Jewish!" My next comment was a bit less innocent: "Do the other 85% know that they also live in a Jewish neighborhood..."

This topic of neighborhoods is not too important, but I'd like to state what it is that I observed in this surprising conversation. There is a tendency in American Jewry to re-define the terminology in such a way as to create an illusion of continuity. The Jewish neighborhood hasn't disappeared; rather, we re-define the term as "a neighborhood that has a larger than average Jewish presence".

Not too long ago, I was giving an introduction to Jewish history, so I asked my students: "Who are the Jews". Generally, this can be a discussion that lasts well over an hour, since indeed it's not an easy question. American Jews mostly define themselves in terms of "religious community", and my task in the class discussion is to bring the children to an understanding that there is a Jewish peoplehood. A student raised her hand, and she gave the answer that I was expecting to hear at the lesson's end: "The Jews are a people". Well, I was caught by surprise. The discussion seemed to be over in less than half of a minute. I didn't have a chance to present my old ploys. Generally, I ask American Jews if there are books entitled "The History of the Russian People", "The History of the Greek People", "The History of the Jewish People", "The History of the American People", and more. The answer is "yes, of course". Then, I ask if there are books entitled "The History of the Catholic People", "The History of the Lutheran People", etc. "No", they answer, "there is no such thing as 'the Lutheran people'. There might be a book about the history of the Lutheran Church, but there is no Lutheran peoplehood". Thus, through their instinctive understanding of historical realities, they can be brought to understand that religion is not the sole definition of Jewishness. There is a Jewish people which is a parallel term to "Polish people", and not just "Judaism" which is parallel to "Christianity" or "Islam".

Well, in one particular class, as I was telling, the "correct" answer was expressed at the very first moment, and seemingly the discussion was "ruined". It negated a career-long experience in which American Jews articulate their Jewishness as a religion. Then, suddenly, I remembered my Gratz professor and his very strange definition of "Jewish neighborhood". Obviously, my student has a new "dictionary" in which "a people" means something else entirely. "Apples are a type of fruit. Oranges are another type of fruit. Now, you claim that the Jews are a people. What would be another example of a people", I asked. And her answer was "the Christians"! In short, she also defines the Jews as a religious group which, strangely, became her definition of a people.

Obviously, I don't wish to draw conclusions from the conceptions or misconceptions of children. However, I have just finished reading a very interesting book by Dr Erica Brown and Dr Misha Galperin, entitled "The Case for Jewish Peoplehood". A friend of mine from work had the book, and she asked me to read it and comment on it. There is a note in the book asking not to quote from it (it's not yet the final edition), so I won't give any real quotes; rather, I'd like to share here some of my impressions, all of which are in the realm of the tendency to re-define terms in an attempt to present American Jewish life as a continuity - and not as a break with the Jewish past.

I started the book with a sense of optimism that it would present an identity that all Jews in the world could understand. Dr Galperin spoke of his immigration from the USSR thirty years ago. He tells us that he very much wanted to be an American. Moreover, as he tells us proudly, his daughter was born in the USA, and she has a hyphenated Russian-American-Jewish identity. This was the first troublesome aspect of the book for me. If we wish to define a peoplehood identity, it should be a peoplehood identity that makes sense to all Jews. Wanting to be an American and proudly passing on to one's daughter a Russian identity are certainly not a "Jewish peoplehood identity" that a Jew in Jerusalem or a Jew in Buenos Aires could embrace as meaningful. So, between the lines, we are learning that "Jewish peoplehood" is within the framework of belonging to the American people. This is a new definition of peoplehood, designed for Jews who have an American identity.

The book deals with the question of language, a very typical issue of any peoplehood discussion. Again, I started reading the chapter with a feeling of optimism that there will be a call for serious Hebrew language achievements. Hebrew should be the tool for dealing directly with the wealth of Jewish sources, it could connect Jews with other Jews as a common language - and it would provide a common unique identity for all Jews that is independent of the identity of other peoples and cultures. Again, I was caught by surprised by the definition of "language". The book tells us directly that American Jews do not know Yiddish or Hebrew, so these languages are not on the agenda at all. American Jews must develop their own common vocabulary of "continuity" and "community". "Language" has now been re-defined. In the past, Jews spoke their own languages, so language meant "Yiddish" or "Ladino" or "Hebrew". Now, the Jewish language is "holding a conversation with your fellow Jew about matters of Jewish community life". Instead of facing the simple truth and saying that language in America is a failure that must be addressed, we simply change the rules - and "Jewish language" is now alive and well. It seems so simple to solve such major issues by changing the dictionary. It should be noted that the book calls for adult education to improve Jewish literacy; yet, Hebrew (or Yiddish) remains irrelevant in this proposed Jewish peoplehood. It is not "Jewish peoplehood", a peoplehood for all Jews; rather, the book is addressed to American Jewry and its English language reality.

When dealing with questions of identity, one often looks at the "other" in order to understand oneself. Who is the "other" in this book about peoplehood? They are almost always called "Christians". The book is promoting a renewed commitment to Jewish community life and adult education in Judaism. This is a worthy goal, of course - but "Jewish peoplehood" is not the right term for it. If the Jews were a peoplehood, the "others" would be the "Americans", or the "Arabs", or the "Russians". But the book is clear: The Jews are mainstream Americans, and the issue at hand is the quality of their religious community life. Dr Galperin tells a story of his identity card in the USSR in which his "religion" was written. He is now glad to be in America where he can give real content to this religion, and not just having a meaningless lable of a bureaucrat. Unfortunately, all this is misleading. It's true that in the Soviet ID, one was listed "Yevrey" (Jew) or "Yevreika" (Jewess) - but it wasn't one's religion! It was one's national identity. Other possibilities in the USSR were "Russian", "Estonian", "Armenian", "Uzbeki" etc. It was a peoplehood entry in the ID card. The Jews were a national minority in the USSR. Dr Galperin knows this - so why does he mislead us into thinking that the clerk registered his religion? Because this book is meant for an American Jewish audience - not for the Jewish people everywhere - and for American Jews, "Jewish" is understood as religion, not as a peoplehood. The book is promoting a commitment to the Jewish religious community (which is very worthy) - but the authors have decided to call this commitment "peoplehood". This definition is, however, a new definition. It is meant to leave us an illusion that this is the continuity of the historic Jewish peoplehood.

Peoplehood also includes territory. However, since this book is meant for American Jews, the territorial issue has to be dismissed as irrelevant. The Birobidzhan experiment is mentioned as proof that territory is unimportant in the Jewish experience. Looking eastward for two thousand years - but not arriving - is noted a positive experience. "Wandering" has a message that we should always be yearning for a better world. So, although Israel is part of today's Jewish identity, it cannot be presented as ideal. The return to Israel has only been a 20th century story, so it's not really central in our "Jewish peoplehood", the book seems to be saying. I found that terribly hypocritical. If American Jews don't know a Jewish language (that's a 20th century phenomenon, too), then language is not part of the Jewish experience, and that's just "fine". In today's reality, Jewish identity in Israel based on the Hebrew language and the Land of Israel encompasses half of the Jewish people. How can it be disregarded as "new", and thus irrelevant, in promoting a Jewish peoplehood identity.

Dr Erica Brown tells a story of Israelis from Haifa who came to Boston. There, in Boston, they go to synagogue and "find God". Her message is that Israelis might have territory, but the American Jewish experience has the real essence of Jewish life. I've grown tired of this widely accepted nonsense. Much more Israelis live a traditional or religious Jewish life than American Jews. They have a homeland, and a language, and a community, and a narrative, and Jewish literacy - and many go to synagogue. Moreover, you don't have to explain to them that the Jews are a people. It's simply obvious. In the American Jewish experience, American peoplehood has replaced the historic Jewish peoplehood identity. Instead of dealing with this serious issue and searching for ways to restore Jewish distinctiveness (which is hard work), it's easier to re-define peoplehood by inventing a new dictionary. Problems, however, will not be solved by changing wording. There is a need to admit that Jewish peoplehood in America has collapsed, and then a real solution must be sought.