blogs/rabbi-huberman

Is Anti-Semitism Just Us?

As we complete a week of profound pain within the Jewish community, it has been all too easy to articulate a familiar narrative:

“The world hates the Jewish people. Anti-Semitism has, and will always be. We are alone and there is no answer.”

In the days following the tragedies in Jersey City and Monsey, there were many condemnations. Leaders — both secular and religious—raced to the microphone or seized the Internet to denounce these ignorant and senseless acts. Concern over the rise of anti-Semitism was a common theme. But should there have been more?

What in God's name has happened to the country I grew up adoring? I am a child of the 1960s. As a youth, I was obsessed with the glory of the United States: Mickey Mantle and the Yankees, John F. Kennedy's vision, student uprisings, first steps on the moon, the fight for equality for all Americans.

I worked occasionally in my Uncle Allan's International News store in Montreal, where during slow moments at the cash register, I would browse the Cleveland Plain Dealer, the Boston Globe, the St. Louis Democrat, the Arizona Republic, the New York Times, among other newspapers wrapped in the Sunday comics. “Maybe someday I could live there,” I thought.

Yet, these days my heart is somewhat bruised. Indeed, we live in a society where ignorance increasingly rules over decency, where rhetoric overrides reality, and where self-interest supersedes understanding.

The Talmud teaches, that “The Torah begins with kindness... and ends with kindness.” How are we doing? Indeed, these cornerstone Jewish teachings need to be more than words on a page.

A few weeks ago, I attended a Jewish conference in Boston, which at one point reported on the difference in attitude between those of the millennial generation and those older.

It is fascinating that, in the aftermath of the Pittsburgh shootings — barely a year ago — most of those over 50, saw this as an assault on Judaism, perpetrated by anti-Semitism.

Conversely, a majority of millennials focused their concern over hatred across all boundaries, and linked the Tree of Life shootings to attacks on synagogues, churches, malls and other public places.

Which position do you identify with? Do we adopt a stance based on our self-preservation, or do we look for a common thread as we dedicate ourselves to Tikun Olam — the healing of the entire world.

As the ancient sage, Rabbi Hillel, articulated: “If I am not for myself, who will be for me?” But, can we be only for ourselves? As history has repeatedly taught us, attacks on the Jewish people usually represent a deeper disease within a society.

Columnist Frida Ghittis recently wrote, “Anti-Semitism is a symptom of a larger societal problem... Jews are the canary in the coalmine, an early warning sign of a community or a nation losing its moorings...and the coalmine is filling with toxic fumes.”

This malaise usually begins with the Jews, and then spreads to other religious minorities, the LGBTQ community, the poor and the otherwise exposed and vulnerable. And these days, this has extended to virtually all western democracies.

A recent Tel Aviv University report noted that the phenomenon of anti-Semitism is “no longer an issue confined to the activity of the far left, far right and radical Islamists.” Instead, “it has mainstreamed and become an integral part of life.”

Hitler did not make a distinction between left or right when he condemned six million to die. Is this really the time to pick sides?

Rather, let us invest in education, for there is a direct correlation between the drop in educational investment and the rise of ignorance and “otherism.” Judaism tells us it is not enough to pray. We must act.

There are anti-hatred marches planned throughout New York during the next few days. Plan to be there, or if you can't, contribute to their sponsors.

Throughout the year, seize upon opportunities to integrate with other religious communities, to model the important universal lessons of Pesach, Succoth and Chanukah.

Invite “the other” into your home. Initiate dialogue.  Do not recoil. Believe in the basic good of others. Do not fall into the grasp of outdated narratives.

A close Christian friend recently wrote to me from Calgary, asking why the Jews that live by his house rarely acknowledge him when he greets them on their way to synagogue.

“My Jewish neighbors walk past my house each Saturday with their head down not wanting to make eye contact or say “hello” when I'm out shoveling snow, sweeping leaves or working in the front garden...” he wrote. “And we've lived here for 25 years.”

Indeed, if a lover of Judaism and Israel can reflect these uneasy feelings, what about those who live alongside larger Chassidic communities? Is it possible that the self-imposed isolation of some can lead to suspicion — and a reinforcement of anti-Semitic in others?

With Chanukah barely behind us, let us each commit to become a Shamash - a first light to become actively and personally involved in justice. It is time for us to unite and stop slinging division.

The good news is that this is not a lost cause. The challenging news is that it requires action.

At face value, this appears to be an exclusively anti-Semitic issue, but in truth, if left unchecked, the malaise will extend to all. The Torah tells us that the job of repairing this imperfect world is never done. Neither are we.

It is time to renew our commitment to the phrase “never again” not just for us, but for all of humanity. It is time to engage rather than retract. Indeed, hatred is not just a Jewish concern, it is a universal issue. It is time to realize, we are not alone.

Shabbat Shalom, v’kol tuv.

Rabbi Irwin Huberman