Okay, so this is my response to the UMich supplement prompt: "Everyone belongs to many different communities and/or groups defined by (among other things) shared geography, religion, ethnicity, income, cuisine, interest, race, ideology, or intellectual heritage. Choose one of the communities to which you belong, and describe that community and your place within it".
The essay is supposed to be 250 words or less, and mine is currently 345, which is my main issue right now. The essay is one that I wrote for a scholarship competition a few months ago, and it was originally 1,000 words, so I've been doing a lot of work to adapt it the the UMich prompt and to shorten it.
Any and all help with either cutting it down and/or editing it is needed and greatly appreciated!
Growing up in the Sunday school at my synagogue, my teachers and rabbi talked a lot about how each of us fit into both the Jewish community and the community of America. Their favorite question to ask us was, "are we American Jews, or Jewish Americans?" For years, the question seemed to me abstract and irrelevant. We were both American and Jewish-wasn't that a simple enough answer?
It was a year and a half ago, on my synagogue's annual confirmation class trip to New York City, that I found the true answer. We were at Ellis Island, where our rabbi talked and we marveled, and after about half an hour, we entered the Registry Room, the room that all immigrants came through to be questioned before entering America. I was surprised when our rabbi ushered us into the corner of the balcony space, asking us to sit in a circle. Confused but willingly we sat, and our rabbi began to pray.
He led us in prayer for a few minutes, and I tried to pray, but all I could think about was how many other Jews had passed through this room, praying silently that they would continue on to New York City. Suddenly a silence fell and I realized that it was time for the silent prayer. The only person with eyes still open, I glanced around the room. My eyes fell on the two huge American flags that flanked it, and suddenly, I felt it: The feelings of the thousands of Jews before me, Jews who wanted to be free, who wanted to be Americans. It didn't matter if they were Jewish Americans or American Jews; all that mattered was that they were Jewish and that they were going to America. The syntax of their identity didn't matter. They were both. I was both. I was an American Jew and a Jewish American. In that moment I knew my Jewish identity, my place in the Jewish community. I am a Jew. I am American. I am both, no matter how it is said.
Growing up attending Sunday school at my synagogue, my teachers and rabbi often talked about how each of us fit into both the Jewish community and the community of America. Their favorite question to ask of us was, "Are we American Jews, or Jewish Americans?" For years, that question seemed to me abstract and irrelevant. We were both American and Jewish-was that not a simple enough answer?
It was a year and a half ago, during my synagogue's annual confirmation class trip to New York City, that I discovered the true answer. We were at Ellis Island, where our rabbi talked and we marveled, and after about half an hour, we entered the Registry Room, the room that every immigrant passed through to endure questioning before entering America. I was surprised when our rabbi ushered us into a corner, asking us to sit in a circle. Confused but willingly we sat, as our rabbi began to pray.
I tried to pray, but my mind wandered, imagining how many Jews had passed through this room, praying silently that they may continue on to New York City. Suddenly a silence fell and I realized that it was time to lead the prayer. The only person with eyes still open, I glanced around the room. My eyes happened upon the two prodigious American flags that flanked it, and suddenly, I felt it: The feelings of the thousands of Jews before me, Jews who wanted to be free, who wanted to be Americans. It did not matter if they were Jewish Americans or American Jews; what mattered was that they were Jewish and that they were coming to America. The syntax of their identity mattered not. They were both. I was both. I am an American Jew and a Jewish American and in that moment, I realized that being both has shaped me into who I am.
Its 314 words now, with some editing and revising. Hope this helps!
I'd like to trim away "Growing up" and just start with "At my synagogue..."---Make it sleek, trim away extra words. It's all about the effect you want to have on the reader.
Oh, this is excellent... okay, I see the great part of the essay. I think the essay should start here:
Suddenly, I felt it: The feelings of the ...
Don't waste time with explanations. Good writers don't give explanations. :-)
Know what I mean? Tackle the reader right away with that excellent part, right at the start of the essay, and then you cen give the least amount of explanation possible. Reader's love to figure things out on their own.
:-) Great job!! Great insight here.
