By Jonathan Rabinovitch
WJC-JDCorps member, Canada
We lead busy lives. We are always on-line, juggling deadlines, and managing clients. And so, it is pretty rare to have any moments of clarity, where we can see beyond the trees to take a view of the forest; the view, as they say, from thirty thousand feet. I had one such moment in a shul in Basel. In that moment, the previous few days fell into focus, as did the strength of Jewish peoplehood more generally. Let me explain.
The JD Corps Global Summit started on a chilly Sunday evening in Strasbourg. We came from around the world: around 150 Jews from all over. From Australia to South America, Hong Kong to Chile. And from corners of the world that I’ve read about, but would hardly have expected to find a Jewish community, like Bosnia, Sweden, and Paraguay. We were all members of the JD Corps. 
As “Jewish Diplomats”, we were selected on the strength of our personalities, intelligence, and potential effectiveness. While we are all educated, thoughtful, and compassionate, above all we are modern. Most of us are global citizens: worldly and educated people, comfortable in different cultures and fora, and able to thrive in a world that is connected, fast-paced, and in constant flux. We will thrive in the new economy, with our education, ambition, and intuition. I met a JD who moved from France to Hong Kong to start a business. I met a JD who recently returned from Luxembourg to Turkey in order to grow her legal practice. I met an Israeli who moved to New York, an Argentine who moved to Tel Aviv, a Mexican entrepreneur, a Romanian lawyer…
Having been politically emancipated in recent centuries, we are all beneficiaries of recent generations of Jews who have afforded us the unprecedented opportunity to not only be in the modern world, but to be of the modern world. And yet, here we were: in a shul in Basel. Why? What brought us here? What drew us here?
I considered those questions while listening to a fellow JD lead the congregation through a beautiful nigun. This JD was born in Germany, moved to Israel, and is now pursuing an MBA in the United States. He epitomizes the global, modern citizen. But he also studied in a yeshiva in Jerusalem and was now channeling Carlebach in a heartfelt rendition of pre-modern Jewish melodies. As I sat in the back row of the Shul, it suddenly became clear why 150 people from all over the world stepped out of their busy lives to be in Basel.
I understood ourselves to be at the intersection of modernity and tradition. I understood that, while we inhabit modernity, we are drawn to our traditions. We thrive in modernity, not despite our ancient Jewish culture and traditions, but because of them. Our ability to self-actualize as global citizens and thrive in most corners of the world is a direct result of our collective ability to retain and celebrate our pre-modern traditions. This is the strength - or should I say the “unique value proposition” - of the Jewish People: our ability to thrive in modernity while retaining our traditions, and simultaneously understanding that modernity and tradition exist symbiotically. Modernity has no purpose without tradition, while tradition could not survive without modernity.
Sitting in the shul, I thought about our experience earlier that same day at Les Trois Rois. Herzl, a modern Jew in his time, had surely come to the same conclusion. The emancipation of the European Jewry had been a great success and Jews were embracing modernity. Through Freud, Einstein, Wittgenstein and many others, European Jews were even inventing modernity! But Herzl knew what all Jews know: that modernity has no inherent value and that only Jewish traditions can sustain the Jewish People. Herzl surely understood that Jews risk becoming rootless in the face of modernity, and without an understanding and celebration of our roots, modernity would spell the decline of Jewry. But at the same, without embracing modernity, the mere retention of roots would lead to a similar decline.
Perhaps this is why we all took a break from our busy lives to fly from all parts of the world to be together in a shul in Basel. For me, this was a transformative moment. As a secular Jew, raised in a loving, shul-going Montreal community, I never lacked for Jewish context, even if I never felt religious per se. But I recall certain moments that now, thirty years later, make more sense, and even give me a sense of clarity and peace, such as singing Avinu Malcheinu with my grandfather. Decades later, while singing that same song with JDs in Basel, I understood my place - our place - as people of ancient, beautiful traditions in a progressive, modern world.
