Published: 13 February 2025
Last updated: 13 February 2025
‘Don’t forget the pomegranate!’ my mother, Sarah, called after my father, Malcolm, who had been tasked with collecting fruit for Rosh Hashanah, the Jewish New Year.
As we often did, we were hosting friends for a celebratory meal at our home, and the pomegranate held particular significance. Along with wheat, barley, grapes, figs, olives, and dates, it makes up the Shivat Haminim – the seven species of fruit mentioned in the Torah as native to Israel. Historically, bringing these to the Temple in Jerusalem was considered a great mitzvah – a commandment in Jewish law, often understood as a good deed.
Speaking to Jews around the world, I have found that many of us ate pomegranates at Rosh Hashanah. This fruit was always significant to me on a personal level. It was a poignant indicator of my difference from those around me.
Although I attended Calderwood Lodge Jewish Primary School (the only Jewish school in Scotland), I went to a non-Jewish secondary school. In the UK, without a separation of church and state, our state schools were often Christian. My peers attended school assemblies in a church, and Christianity formed the foundation of the school’s culture.
Being Jewish, I always felt different from those around me. I knew that we observed different holidays, ate different food, and even spoke a different language – Hebrew – in synagogue and in various classes I took. Few of them routinely ate – or would have attached any significance to – pomegranates.
All of this is to say, I understood that although I was born in Scotland, that wasn’t where I was rooted. The pomegranate, very much not native to Scotland, helped me understand where I could truly call home. To this day, after living in Scotland, Hong Kong and London, the place where I feel I most belong is Israel.
I understood – even when I didn’t have the language to articulate it – that my family and my people are indigenous to Israel.
While notions like indigeneity aren’t inherently Jewish concepts, they can describe our story just as they describe that of others.
Though I didn’t know it then, my deep emotional connection to Israel, eating the pomegranate, speaking Hebrew, observing Shabbat, facing Jerusalem when we prayed in synagogue, keeping kosher, living by the Hebrew calendar, and celebrating Jewish holidays (like Rosh Hashanah, Pesach, or Shavuot, which all began as agricultural holidays) were all manifestations of Jewish indigeneity.
The Jews are indigenous to the Land of Israel. This means we originated and are rooted there, and for thousands of years, up to this very day, we maintain a deep and emotional connection with the land itself and the cities built upon it. This perspective isn’t meant to replace biblical views on Jewish identity but to support them. It is a layer of our identity that already exists; we just need to uncover it.
Today, however, Jewish indigeneity is maliciously disputed, but despite this, it accurately represents our experience and our relationship to Israel and to each other.
While notions like indigeneity aren’t inherently Jewish concepts, they can describe our story just as they describe that of others. When Jews speak of our connection to the Land of Israel, we call it our ‘homeland’ or ‘ancestral land’. We refer to it as ‘the promised land’ and even ‘the land of milk and honey’.
But what do they represent for our relationship with Israel today, and how does it define us? Although the Jewish people still belong to an active, evolving civilisation, to truly understand Jewish identity, we must go back to the beginning of our story. One of the most powerful realisations any young Jew will have is that we are part of an unbroken chain that stretches back thousands of years. When I heard the stories of Pesach, the tribes of Israel, or the Second Temple, I knew they were the history of my people. This continuity is the essence of indigeneity.
The Jewish people are at an important crossroads, and although my study began long before the horrific events of October 7th, the ensuing war against Hamas, and the wave of Jew-hate that swept the diaspora, this exploration has become more necessary than ever.
As I’ve written before, we have a choice. We can continue allowing the non-Jewish world to define us, remain unclear about who we are, or we can explore who we were – who we have always been – so that we can define our identities and live them today.
The truth is, we are indigenous. We should recognise it. We should live it. And we should be proud of it. It is our story.
This article is the prologue to The Jews: An Indigenous People by Ben Freeman, published by No Pasaran Media on 27 February.
Comments2
Robert Richter19 February at 03:14 pm
I grew up in Israel till my bar mizva when my parents took me and my family to Australia. My identity is that of a secular australian Jew. Your article merely leads me to ask: are you for justice and freedom? If you are, don’t think about biblical fruits. You should be thinking about the defeat of an Israeli government dedicated to create a judeo-fascist theocracy. If you are not committed to resisting it then you are not, in my humble opinion a Jew whose ethics entitle you to deny the rights of other indigenous people when the Israeli government is in the process of ethnic cleansing. If you join the fight against a criminal cabal which seeks to destroy the rule of law and any remaining vestige of judicial independence, then please enjoy the seven fruits as much as the West Bank and Gazan Arabs do; that is if they can still salvage the fruit trees they have grown from time immemorial.
Wesley Parish13 February at 06:41 am
This is mere assertion. It seems that Judaism was very popular in the Roman Empire, before the Roman Empire’s formal conversion to Christianity under Constantine
https://blogs.timesofisrael.com/no-pope-what-if-rome-had-become-jewish/
https://aish.com/the-surge-of-converts-to-judaism-in-ancient-rome/
Plus the presence of Jewish communities at the ends of well-known trade routes – Yemen/Ethiopia, Iraq/Iran, and even in China – indicate to me that religion followed trade, and there was a certain amount of conversion going on. Plus the link between Tarshish/Tartessos being the western end-point of the Phoenician/Punic trade empire and the Northern Kingdom of Israel being in close with the Phoenician city-states, suggests that the Sephardim go back in Spain for quite some time. Then you have the Ashkenazim originating in the Rhineland, and I suspect they were also congregations of converts from the time the Rhineland was the frontier between the Germanic tribes to the north and the Roman Empire – most probably severely harmed by the fighting at the break-up of the Roman Empire – but then reinforced by waves of migrants from Italy around the time of Charlemagne … and much later, reinforced by refugees from the breakup of the Khazar Empire.
All of which is bound by religious ties, not genetic.
Meanwhile the population of Judea, Samaria and Galilee, with the temple destroyed and subsequent revolts also unsuccessful, would’ve been approached by the early Christian Church and a fair number would’ve agreed with their message and converted. For proof, consider the Samaritans – they were never exiled from their land at the time of the Great Revolt.