What makes me a Jew? It's a good question. And like everything else connected with Judaism, there isn't one single answer. Sorry. Look up an official definition and you get something like: Jews are an ethnoreligious group and nation originating from the Israelites and Hebrews of historical Israel and Judah.
So, maybe that.
Jewish law (Halacha) states that to be Jewish, you have to be born of a Jewish mother, as the descent is matrilineal. However, the Bible (Torah) sees Jewish identity as patrilineal.
See what I mean?
When I was applying to get my family's German citizenship 'restored' after the UK left the EU, the German government was only interested in whether my family's loss had occurred on my father's side. However when my brother's secular marriage broke down and he went frum, emigrated to Israel and subsequently wished to marry an Orthodox Jewess, my mother had to prove she had married in synagogue for it to be allowed. (The first marriage was discounted as the former wife was a gentile).
There are also various rules, complicated definitions, arguments, counter arguments etc. for people who decide to convert, or people who have one non-Jewish parent. We Jews love a good debate. We will kvetch and kibbitz until the sun goes down. And then some.
However, I believe there is one question that covers everything, and the answer to which proves definitely, once and for all time, whether you or I are really Jewish or not. And it is this: Do you have your mother's recipe for chicken soup?
I do.
My Mother's Chicken Soup
For this you will need a large pot, into which you put chopped celery, chopped onion, sliced carrots, then place on top a chicken (my mother used to actually pluck the chicken, then singe the remaining quills. I can still smell it). Add salt, peppercorns (my brother and I used to have a competition to see who had the most peppercorns: think 'Tinker tailor', Jewish style), and enough stock/water to cover the bird.
Slowly bring to the boil. Skim the fat off the surface ~ it's known as schmaltz, until the liquid is clear. Then cover and simmer very gently until the meat is so tender it falls off the bones.
Add some noodles to the pot and let them soften, just before dividing up the meat, the vegetables, and the lovely broth and placing it all in soup plates. My mother always served ours with thick slices of white bread to mop up the last of the soup.
Ess gezunterheit!
