Chanukah In The 2023 Diaspora

As we approach Chanukah, a story of Jewish resilience in the face of extinction, the relevance to modern times may not have been this clear in 75 years. The Simchat Torah Massacre, perpetrated by an authoritarian, extremist regime, with the explicitly stated goal of removing all Jewish people from “the river to the sea,” makes for a clear analogy to when Antiochus IV expelled the Jewish people from Judea and outlawed the practice of Judaism. The Maccabees revolted, winning back the Holy Temple in Jerusalem.

However, there is a stronger connection that can be found today, to the themes underlying the story of Chanukah. The connection relates to the massacre on October 7th, but does not center Jewish sovereignty in our ancestral homeland. It focuses on Jewish survival in the diaspora. Prior to the invasion in 175 BCE, Judea had already been encompassed within the Seleucid Empire, and others before that. Many of the Israelites had assimilated to the customs of the empire-of-the-day.

 Menorah In The Foreground

It was the steadfast Jews, those who refused to give up our traditions, who angered Antiochus. Those who would not hide in their basements. The troublemakers. Those who maintained our Peoplehood. Those who were not afraid to speak up. The ancient Zionists.

In those days, there was no real diaspora. Today, there is. And here, in the diaspora, it is only the steadfast Jews who survive, as Jews. Secularization and assimilation caused the Jewish people – more than seven decades since our brush with extinction at the hands of an authoritarian, extremist regime – to remain fewer in number than prior to WWII. Nearly half of us live in Israel, and we were expelled or killed in a dozen nations in the years around and following WWII.

And here, in the diaspora, today… We’ve again been told we do not belong. We cannot remain as we are. We cannot believe as we do. We are not entitled to our ancestral homeland. Chanukah celebrations have been canceled due to security concerns or to avoid the appearance of supporting Israel. We are simultaneously told anti-Zionism is not anti-Semitism, while being told that supporting the Jewish people is supporting Israel.

Elie Weisel, Holocaust survivor and advocate for justice, said “as a Jew, I need Israel. More precisely: I can live as a Jew outside Israel but not without Israel." And for these past two months, we’ve been told that we do not deserve Israel. We do not deserve to exist.

We will remain steadfast. Here, in the diaspora, and certainly in our homeland. Am Yisrael Chai.

This Will Not Extinguish My Flame

Count me among the many left-leaning Jews who feel isolated from many groups and people with whom we’ve organized and advocated in the past.

For the past two months, many people have felt compelled to align on one side of the Israeli-Hamas war, or another. The organizations that some label “woke” – those advocating for gender equality, queer rights, racial justice – have mostly positioned themselves as anti-Israel, believing that the Jewish state is the result of settler colonialism and white supremacy. This belief is perpetuated by decades of an intentional and misleading narrative, rooted in some of the oldest antisemitic tropes. Jewish greed, puppet mastery, world domination, elitism, and more… are all building blocks to the false perception that Israel is an illegitimate nation.

The feeling of isolation that I share with so many of my Jewish siblings comes from experiencing the betrayal of having stood side-by-side and hand-in-hand with so many other marginalized communities, advocating for their rights, to now find them advocating against our existence. I know, from personal experience, that those advocating against Israel do not believe their advocacy is rooted in antisemitism or that it harms me. But my heart and my understanding of my People’s history know the harm being caused.

Phrases like “from the river to the sea” cannot be accepted as peaceful aspirations. Even if a person who wants peace says them, that is not the origin of the phrase or the goal of its authors. Those of us who advocate for justice know that impacted communities can speak best to the harms caused by statements and actions. Listen to the vast majority of Jewish people when we say that this calls for our genocide. Believe us when we say that the vast majority of us want peace in the Levant – for all people. Most of us have been calling for a two-state solution for decades and still want to see this come to fruition, even after the Simchat Torah Massacre.

Though I feel betrayed, I remain proud of every step I’ve taken in solidarity with the reignited fight for racial justice during the summer of 2020. I still have a sign at my home reading “Black lives matter.” I remain proud of each breath used to call for queer rights to be fully recognized in our laws. I stand by my words when I spoke up against rising Asian hate during the pandemic, and against Islamophobia after the election of our 45th President. Because I didn’t do any of these things as a downpayment for when I knew I inevitably would need allies. I do these things because Judaism has taught me “tzedek, tzedek tirdof – justice, justice shall you pursue.” I do these things because they are the right thing to do, even absent reciprocity.

I remain grateful to all who stand against antisemitism, and I hold space for those who do not yet see the harm they are causing by ignoring the truth.

My commitment to social justice remains intact, and my Zionism remains intact. My flame remains burning for peace and justice.

Today's Newspaper Arrived as Hate Mail

[Originally written as a Letter to the Editor of the Barrington Times:]

The cover page of today's newspaper is profoundly insensitive and offensive. You mailed a picture of a swastika to all of your subscribers. It’s the first thing seen, without even opening the paper.

Because of your prior coverage of hateful vandalism in town, I'm making the intentional choice to give you the benefit of the doubt, that your goal was to highlight the hateful aspects of this act, as more than just some “knuckleheads” making a poor choice to get a rise out of people. But as a person who has walked through the death camps in Poland and smelled the ashes of thousands of my people, it is literally painful to look at your newspaper today.

You’re probably aware that Barrington is home to a Holocaust survivor. Can you imagine enduring what she endured... only to open your mailbox decades later, and find that your local newspaper mailed you a large picture of the Nazi's hateful symbol. Hopefully she isn't a subscriber.

After reading the article online earlier today, I reached out to the Little League, to invite the president to discuss the pain and power of that symbol, the accompanying language in the vandalism, and how his comments around it can impact people. Perhaps a larger conversation is also needed, because sensationalizing this is a second offense that compounds the first, and giving kids (assuming it was kids) something to do with their time during the day isn’t going to wash away the hate behind this.

This is not okay. It cannot be ignored. And the fact that it keeps happening without a larger discussion makes Barrington less safe for the many types of people who the Nazis killed... Including several groups for whom the town flies flags; without ever really talking about.

We Have So Much To Gain

Barringtonians believe Black lives matter. We know this to be true, because we witnessed the massive attendance at the first BLM roadside vigil organized by the Barrington Interfaith Partners. It drew 1,200 people, mostly fellow Barrington residents, a year and a half ago. And we know it to be true because of the continued support for initiatives in our town to create a more equitable community.

Striving for equity is an effort to remove the existing obstacles that currently ensure disparate outcomes.

As Black History Month comes to a close, we should consider several issues regarding the reactions to some of Barrington’s inclusivity efforts. As we think about these issues, we’ll be reminded that Barrington’s future gets brighter and better as we become more welcoming and inclusive of all people in our increasingly diverse community.

Equity. Striving for an equitable community is often portrayed by naysayers as an attempt to create equal outcomes. That is inaccurate. Striving for equity is an effort to remove the existing obstacles that currently ensure disparate outcomes. A founding principle of our nation is that everybody should have equal opportunity. We should strive for this to be a reality in every community, especially our own.

The flagpole. Barrington’s flagpole is not a “free speech zone,” nor does it display flags or banners at the behest of others. The government of the Town of Barrington uses the Town Hall flagpole as the signaling device for which it was designed, in direct agreement with the US Flag Code. Barrington raises flags under the Stars and Stripes as a message to all people, that those who feel represented by an additional community flag are equally valued members of the community, just like all who feel fully represented by the Stars and Stripes, alone. 

The Black History Month flag. The flag flying on our flagpole is not connected to any organization; it is reflective of a grassroots movement. The Black lives matter movement is a broadly diverse movement for racial justice. It is not a Marxist or antisemitic movement. It does not call for the dismantling of the nuclear family. The policies of one organization within a movement consisting of many organizations and individuals don’t speak for the whole movement. The words of a few members of a grassroots movement, no matter how prominent they are, don’t speak for the whole movement. 

Antisemitism. Like everywhere, it’s here, too. We’ve seen it in the swastikas painted at Zion a few years ago. We’ve seen it in graffiti stating “kill the k*kes,” painted on a picnic table. It’s been spoken by strangers walking through our local grocery store. It’s been posted on the Facebook pages of a local veterans group, and published in the columns of the local newspaper’s opinions page. One place in town we can be certain it does not exist: our custom Black History Month flag. Affirming the equality of all people is a Jewish value.

We have so much to gain by opening our arms, hearts and minds. When we stick together and keep moving forward, we march toward an even better Barrington.

International Overdose Awareness Day

Substance misuse.

Addiction.

Drug abuse.

Junkie.

Alcoholic.

Substance Abuse Disorder.

The labels are plenty, but the resources are sparse. Whatever we call the challenges that precede an overdose, we must do a better job of providing support to those in our community who need help.

Viewing addiction and substance misuse as social blights and punishing the symptoms as crimes simply has not worked. It hasn’t worked for the people at the center of them. It hasn’t worked for their families. It hasn’t worked for our communities.

These concerns are medical in nature. This is a community wellness issue that we should be seeking to heal. Speak about these concerns with compassion, both for those in the throes of addiction and the families who desperately hope for their recovery from illness.

Today is International Overdose Awareness Day. Let’s take it one day at a time, and make tomorrow better.

HERE ARE SOME RESOURCES...

NATIONAL HELPLINE

1-800-662-HELP (4357)
Substance Abuse and Mental Health Services Administration

LOCAL SERVICES

East Bay Recover Center
31 Railroad Avenue
Warren, RI 02885
401-289-2055

FOR THOSE LOOKING FOR RECOVERY:

Narcotics Anonymous: https://na.org/

Alcoholics Anonymous: https://www.aa.org/

For families: https://al-anon.org/

Above The 'Law'

Addition over a decade
Subtraction with unprepared objection
Contributing to all I’ve become
Diminishing the resources from which I draw

He multiplied the love in my life
He divided the challenges we’ve confronted
He sowed our growth with unlimited support
He minimized the obstacles that blocked our path

I am glad to have never known
Anyone to which he’d be compared
I would only have seen an empty pale
Lacking his colorful spirit, unable to carry his load

A source of my world’s genesis
A nurturer of all for which I live
A navigator that knowingly mapped her path
A course with me as the unknown destination

My future smiles his mirrored smile
My heart is held by his hands’ creation
My success has come with his wind in my sail
My destination is intertwined with his legacy

Distill The Live That's Inside Me

This year, I learned something new
This year, I affirmed something I knew
It had been a joke I made, for more than a decade
It has been serious, probably far longer
I was diagnosed with Obsessive Compulsive Disorder.

Never knowing how real it was, in me
Never learning how to adjust for that reality
It was not a shock to hear the diagnosis
But the level was higher than expected
I was relieved with the prognosis
Because it answered questions I’ve long detected

Medication. Therapy. And direct intention.
Introspection. Reflection. And communication.

I can now pause the script I’m always writing in my mind
And control the ponderance of thoughts unkind
With a clear and calm head, I can now think
But into the downward story spirals, I no longer sink.

For the coming year, I have this new perspective.

For the coming year, I have this new way in which to live.

Allies or Partners – Looking at My Whiteness and Jewishness

 As a Jew, I personally don’t identify as “white.” Despite that, I am aware that 1) pretty much everybody I encounter will understandably -- and not necessarily incorrectly -- label me as such; and 2) I still benefit from the vast majority of the privileges associated with whiteness. Given all that is going on* recently, I feel conflicted about where I fit in with the struggle for equality. I’ve always better understood myself and the situations around me through the exploration of writing, so I am turning to these words to help me learn, and hopefully to share something about myself and my communities in a way that will resonate with others.

First, let’s address that * I included above. I don’t think very much of what’s been going on regarding race and marginalized peoples has changed significantly, in terms of hatred espoused by people who choose not to see the opportunity in a shared community. Social media has changed our awareness of it, and demanded that more attention be paid to it. Additionally, our President’s recent refusal to swiftly condemn and disavow groups that must be defined as domestic terror groups, insistent on perpetuating hate crimes, adds a certain weight to what’s been going on. It fuels the expansion - or at least the fear of expansion - of this hatred and violence; which by definition is the intent of terrorism.

Questioning where I fit in

I read many articles about “white allies,” and comments about “checking [my] privilege.” It makes me question whether I am acting as an ally, simply because I have some privilege. Or, am I acting in my own community's self interest, as we are among the most targeted victims of hate crimes. If I am an ally for this push toward justice and equality for all, to whom do I reach out when I feel the need for allies in my experience as a Jew, who is marginalized in many ways, and still hated and blamed by the very same people against whom I am fighting, as an ally?

I am driver, passenger and pedestrian at the intersection. Can I simultaneously be an ally, while asking for help from allies?

Checking my privilege

Privilege comes in many forms, both in terms of historic ability to amass and retain wealth, implicit and explicit biases, networking connections, and so many more. There is also, I believe, another level of privilege; that of knowing you belong and that something (whatever it is) is for you.

How I have white privilege

I’m a cisgender male of Eastern European descent, who is heterosexual, and physically able. When people look at me, they can see/quickly determine most of that, and make “positive” assumptions (or don’t make “negative” ones) based on the image they see. I do not often seem to be feared by people I encounter, I am not often followed or treated as though I’m suspicious. My name is recognizable and fairly easy to pronounce. Typically, when I speak politely I’m given the benefit of the doubt when there are mix-ups and misunderstandings with a bill, reservation, customer service issue, traffic violation, etc. (I understand that being polite is important, but I also know that my politeness follows assumptions made about me that are validated by my politeness. I’ve witnessed politeness not be enough when other assumptions have been made.) And, this all applies to the four generations of my family who have lived in America since escaping the pogroms of Europe in the early 20th century.

How I do not have White Privilege

The lack of privilege I experience is primarily internal, because I do have the benefit of looking like I’m “entitled to privilege.” It comes from knowing that I don’t belong with those in power who advance oppression. My people make up less than 1% of the world’s population, and there is only one place on Earth -- a country approximately the size of Delaware -- in which my race is a majority. And, it’s a country that is often targeted as being an oppressor.

Throughout history, White people have tried to kill my people. Skipping past biblical times, there are the Crusades, the Spanish Inquisition, the pogroms of Russia and eastern Europe, and the Holocaust. Today, there is the KKK, Neo Nazis, the Alt-Right, and the Breitbart editorial staff.
Less dramatically, but still traumatically, there is a diminishing of value of me and my people. We are told that “this is a Christian country,” even though the First Amendment ensures it is not. Events of importance are scheduled on our holy days, such as the March for Racial Justice, or college finals. I have lost two jobs due to my Judaism; one because I wouldn’t tolerate working with somebody who was making public anti-semitic remarks, and another when I wouldn’t work on Rosh Hashanah at a restaurant that closes for Christmas and Easter.

Putting privilege together

Regardless of where I fall on a scale of privilege, and the extent to which it is influenced by my Jewishness and my Whiteness is, ultimately, irrelevant. What matters -- at least to me -- is that I do recognize where I’ve had it easy, and where I’ve had it not so easy. I try to leverage my access to privilege in ways that are benefited by my people’s experience as victims of hatred. I try to keep my privilege in check, while also respecting my own personal accomplishments and success.

I try to instill in my son the belief and understanding that come with this. Empathy. Compassion. Persistence. A sense of justice. Knowledge that justice isn’t for just us. Responsibility. Courage.

Where I go from here

To be honest, I’m not entirely sure. It took me far longer than expected to work through this piece. As I’m writing this conclusion, I realize I haven't actually answered any questions, but I do understand myself better. I hope that this has given you some insight into me and understanding of Jews as partners in plight, more than allies. I further hope that the insight is applicable to you and others you know. Mostly, I hope it inspires questions, dialogue, and collaborative movement. We’re living through a difficult time… so much access and chatter, but not enough action and understanding.

Don’t be quick to assume you know somebody’s experience by looking at them. Don’t be harsh on yourself because you have privilege. Don’t be easy on yourself because you don’t. We all must do the work to understand ourselves and our needs, and then to work with one another to share the effort toward a common goal.

As a friend of mine often posts… “the beloved community.” Let’s all march toward that community, and live there, together.