Staying Together

According to Ahad Ha'am, “More than the Jews have kept Shabbat, Shabbat has kept the Jews.” Ha'am wasn't religious. He was a “cultural Zionist,” but that didn't stop him from realizing that the self-identification provided by the weekly appearance of the day of rest has united us. It didn't matter if the day was observed religiously or was simply recognized as different – something Jewish; the idea told us something about ourselves. The concept, in one form or another, has been accepted by most of the world now, but that doesn't detract from our recognition of its origin and our attachment to it.

But there are other factors that unite us – at least in terms of self-identification. Holidays do that, especially the ones that feature eating of special foods. Jelly donuts and potato pancakes on Hanukkah, hamentaschen on Purim, and, of course, all the dishes that contribute to the feasts we enjoy on Pesach (Passover). Even those who aren't observant reserve Pesach for family assemblies. Somehow it resonates. As do the life-cycle events, like Bar and Bat Mitzvot which often signal the end of formal association with Judaism. But they are an affirmation of who we are – though that affirmation is all-too-often by the parents rather than the child. It is sad to note that the absence of a formal Jewish education, the absence of any culture of belief in the house, and the attractions of the non-Jewish world frequently overpower knowledge and remembrance of our heritage.

We're also united by a common enemy. That enemy is a world that would prefer our absence. Antisemitism used to be an open, acceptable, reaction to Jewishness. In order to avoid the enemy, many wanted to assimilate but found that they weren't wanted in universities, societies, and in the world in general. Today campaigns against Israel and the Jews are everywhere to be found, in the United Nations, national governments, and among individuals. And the level of affiliation with Judaism is often irrelevant. Hitler didn't care if his victims were observant or not. They were Jews and subject to annihilation. Unfortunately, the malady doesn't end there. Nowadays people try to hide their antisemitism, claiming that they only object to the policies of Israel. But their ignoring of other countries violating whatever standards they claim to support makes it clear that to them “Israel” means “Jews.” It's interesting that the religion of Abraham is so abhorrent to the Abrahamic religions that descended from it. Together Christianity and Islam represent about 55% of the world's population while Judaism is about 0.2% (that's about 275 times, for the math-challenged). Yet they blame Judaism for the problems we all face. The Abrahamic religions reject Abraham's people.

But just as there are ideas and acts that bring us together, there are some that drive us apart. It's fruitless and misleading to blame all our problems on others. The worst enemy of the Jews is not the rest of the world. It is us. It is the Jews. There may be no Haman, Torquemada, Khmelnytsky, Hitler, or Stalin among us, but, sadly, there are many Jews who would sacrifice their people for their own benefit, or for the sake of imagined wrongs. And there are many who accept what they “learn” from the media: societal fads and ideologically-driven views.

We like to think that if everyone would leave us alone, everything would be all right. But it won't. In the words of Walt Kelly, “We have met the enemy and he is us.”

We differ, among other things, in terms of religious observance and, very markedly, political philosophies. And our differences drive us apart. Unfortunately, we don't hesitate to condemn the views of our brothers and sisters (and, ourselves) to blame Israel – usually finding fault without trying to understand those views; often without even listening to them. 

Some years back the United Jewish Appeal started promoting the slogan “We are one.” Perhaps it worked for philanthropy, but we still don't always understand each other. To the rest of the world we may be one people, but the reality is that we aren't unified. We're certainly not unified in support of Israel, Jewish education, or the views of other strains of Judaism. Only 10% of American Jews consider themselves orthodox [as of 2016] and many more – perhaps three times that number – don't affiliate at all. The different movements, moreover, often have strained relations with each other and condemn the nature of the observance or non-observance of anyone not in their camp.

And our political stances are frequently violently opposed. For many there is the conviction that the most important characteristic of Judaism is liberalism, and they identify with liberal groups irrespective of what they endorse, often without investigating the meaning of a particular issue and their support of it. On the other end of the spectrum are those who invariably support Israel and increased Jewish education and base their support of conservative causes on those issues. Indeed, Israeli policies are sometimes the reason we separate ourselves from others of our religion. For too many the politics is more important than the heritage. And vehemence is appropriate rather then listening to each other while crafting a more unified approach. We're right and they're wrong. We don't compromise, and we don't take prisoners. 

Our only hope is that we will begin to listen to each other. Perhaps we can come together based on the features of our religion that keep us together and not let our disagreements, whether political or religious, drive us apart. It will take a lot of good will from our fellows, but after two millennia it's clear we're not going to get it from outsiders.

March 19, 2017