2 min read
I pulled a long black hair out of my watery scrambled eggs and sighed. Welcome to Limmud.
For those who don’t know, Limmud is a 5-day festival dedicated to Jewish learning in all its variety.
Held normally on a university campus although this year it is in a hotel, people spend their days running to and from sessions and sharing buffet style dinners together in large halls.
Organisers will tell you “Limmud is for everyone” and with desperate scepticism I told myself I would keep an open mind.
It is my first time at Limmud, but I’m no stranger to the pluralistic cultural festival format it is inspired by.
I grew up being dragged round Marxism, a five-day political festival in London, hosted by the Socialist Workers Party.
I have vivid memories as a child running wild and free through university campuses with other children who didn’t have a choice, while my dad attended sessions about the revolution and the evils of capitalism.
Back home, every July my house turned into a hostel, strange men and women from all over the UK arrived to sleep on my sofa and travel into town ‘viva la revolution.’
I watched in amusement as groups of adults swore passionately over organic roast chicken dinners, calling Margaret Thatcher a “beeping beep.”
And while I’m by no means suggesting the two festivals of "learning" are the same thing, the essence is the same; only Limmud is a bit posher and has a more balanced approach.
They are both just thousands of people high to the hills off the idea that lecture style learning is the pinnacle of self-discovery and how to change the world.
One thing I’ll give to Limmud is that it’s a little less angry than Marxism, the audience interruption is a little more, how can I say it, polite.
And the sessions on offer are more heal the world, than smash the state.
I have yet to see a chair kicked in disgust, although a colleague did see a rebbetzin nearly brought to tears when the sandwiches ran out at lunch.
As I’ve got older my tolerance for having conversations I don’t really want to have out of politeness has lessened.
But in Limmud no one else feels like that, they are all genuinely happy to talk to everyone. Even me, with a face full of misery.
I’ve developed an awkward approving nod like the Churchill Dog from the advert and have had to pretend it’s totally ok to pull a strange black hair out of my breakfast.
Why? “For the love of community” and “being all together”.
But my lack of passion for organised learning and fun is by far in the minority.
It would be dishonest to say people at Limmud are not having the best Limmud of all time.
They love the sessions, from James Bond and his Jewishness, to debating the two state solution.
They are meeting new people, old friends and learning new things.
And don’t get me wrong, I’ve found sessions interesting, I have reluctantly learnt things, but I’m not persuaded the festival of Limmud is for everyone.
Much like how Glastonbury with its mud, drugs and dirty toilets isn’t.
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