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Информация о материале
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Автор: Jonathan Tobin
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Категория: english
‘Jew v. Jew' still spreading
Jewish World Review Nov.
13, 2006 / 22 Mar-Cheshvan, 5767
The truth can hurt. Especially when it comes to a group that tends to
regard itself as open-minded and sensitive to the feelings of others. But
even though it might be easier to keep pretending that it doesn't exist,
it's time once again to face the truth about a not-inconsiderable segment
of American Jewry: More than a few of us are religious bigots.
How can a group that has faced prejudice for two millennia and suffered
a Holocaust within our living memory harbor such feelings?
The answer is that as long as you are talking about Jewish opinion
about other Jews, such sentiments always seem to bubble just beneath the
surface.
This phenomenon is on display for all to see in the November issue
of Philadelphia magazine in a feature by Phillip Weiss, tastefully titled
"Oy Vey, There Goes the Neighborhood."
The neighborhoods in question are Lower Merion and Bala Cynwyd, once
the heart of the traditionally WASP-ish and prosperous Main Line suburbs
of Philadelphia. While large numbers of upwardly mobile Jews have been
a fixture in the area for generations, the problem, at least for some quoted
by Weiss, is that in the last two decades have come the influx of Orthodox
Jews into the area.
The event that precipitated the growth of the Orthodox community there
was the creation of an eruv, which enabled Jews to carry objects or push
baby-strollers outside their homes on the Sabbath and holidays. Along with
all the other requirements for an observant lifestyle — like readily available
kosher food, schools and synagogues — an eruv is an indicator of an Orthodox-friendly
neighborhood.
So what's the problem? According to Weiss, seculars "are put off by
the fundamentalism and narrowness of the Orthodox Jews." Even worse, Weiss
says that these secular and presumably politically liberal Jews worry that
the Orthodox are "diminishing an enlightened community importing a culture
of narrow-minded fundamentalism."
'JEWISHIZING' A LIBERAL SUBURB
One reason for this sentiment is a function of the Orthodox community's
tendency toward greater political conservatism. Another, he points out,
is the nature of Orthodox religious belief, which has led to what Weiss
calls a degree of "evangelism" about Sabbath observance and lighting candles
on Friday nights.
This "Jewishizing of Lower Merion," as Weiss puts it, has put secular
Jewish teeth on edge. Even worse, he writes, is the fact that the Orthodox
have views about gender relations, homosexuality and sexual morality that
clash with the beliefs of those who embrace the popular culture of our
day.
Weiss says that he found no one who would express such sentiments on
the record, so he is forced to merely quote people, like a friend of his
mother's, anonymously. This is a major journalistic failing, and would
normally speak to either the flimsy nature of the thesis that Weiss is
seeking to illustrate or to his laziness.
But lack of reliable sources notwithstanding, I'm prepared to accept
his thesis that this hostility is real. One need only read Samuel G. Friedman's
Jew vs. Jew, the Columbia University journalism professor's 2000 study
of several varieties of intra-communal Jewish conflict in the United States,
to see that such sentiments are hardly rare.
The pattern is a common one. In the case of Lower Merion, as Weiss
puts it, the new Orthodox arrivals "altered the character of a liberal
suburb."
He writes of non-observant Jews sitting in a non-kosher, "Jewish-style"
restaurant on the Sabbath, viewing flocks of the observant walk past them
on their way to shul. The implication is that the diners are somehow threatened
by the shul-goers.
It seems the Orthodox presence isn't a form of diversity that an otherwise
liberal community would extol. Why? Because the shul-goers are viewed in
some way as a challenge to the seculars, who feel that their own way of
life is threatened by the Judaism proliferating around them.
The notion of educated, sophisticated and even affluent Jews embracing
an Orthodox lifestyle with all it entails is profoundly disturbing to those
who saw assimilation into the mainstream as the main goal of American Jewry.
Indeed, Weiss' mother's friend seems a convenient symbol of a generation
that views a vibrant Orthodoxy as frightening specifically because it seems
to place the disintegration of her own family's Jewish identity (none of
her grandchildren are Jewish) in a less than flattering light.
Among secular Jews who have come to view all religion as negative,
the prejudice against Orthodoxy is often no less visceral than the prevailing
attitudes among many Jews about evangelical Christians. As in that case,
it isn't just that their beliefs are different. It is that many of us unfairly
view them as backward and inherently illegitimate.
What is the antidote to this ugly and disturbing trend?
The obvious answer would be for those who feel threatened by the Orthodox
to try talking to them, rather than merely seize upon any unflattering
anecdote to justify negative stereotypes. If they did, they'd find that
despite the differences, they still have in more in common with their fellow
Jews than they think.
Non-Orthodox Jews also resent the notion that the Conservative, Reform
and Reconstructionist Judaism is somehow inherently "inauthentic" when
compared to Orthodoxy. That is a sentiment many of the Orthodox are often
happy to reinforce. But you don't have to accept that idea — and I don't
— to understand that the growth of Orthodoxy and of the infrastructure
of Jewish life in places where it was previously lacking is a positive
development. Indeed, the trend toward greater emphasis on observance, Hebrew
and ritual is part of the story of all of our religious movements these
days.
THE REAL ENEMY?
But most of all, it is high time every segment of Jewry, from secular
to Orthodox, reminded themselves that their fellow Jews aren't the enemy.
We live in a time in which anti-Semitism is spreading from the Muslim
world to a Europe where Jews and Israel are viewed with growing hostility.
Like the Nazis, Islamic fundamentalists don't really care whether you go
to shul on Saturday. They want to kill all of us. Concentrate on that,
and your worries about whether your Orthodox neighbors have an opinion
about the non-kosher chicken in your shopping cart (as Weiss relates) are
put into perspective.
Like it or not, we Jews are still simply too few in numbers to allow
our differences to outweigh our common heritage. If you can live next door
to Christians who don't share your religious beliefs, what's the big deal
about having a neighbor who is Sabbath observant?
This dirty little secret of Jewish life must be confronted and answered
with increased communal solidarity. If we are enjoined by our tradition
to "welcome the stranger," welcoming your fellow Jews — even if their beliefs
are different from your own — shouldn't be too much to ask.
© 2005, Jonathan Tobin
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