Jews can fight anti-Semitism by connecting to our roots and affirming who we are
My family and I are singing along to the nearly deafening rendition of an out-of-tune brucha —a blessing — blasting from an iPad at the end of the table. Looking out from the iPad are my relatives, some way too close to the camera — others mainly my technologically challenged great-uncle — loudly exclaiming they cannot see anyone, all to my brothers’ amusement.
We aren’t able to gather together, yet we are continuing our tradition of Passover by reciting the same prayers our ancestors did. We are continuing this tradition amid a deadly virus — not COVID-19, but anti-Semitism.
On the second night of Passover Seder, my temple streamed services through Zoom to congregants to offer prayer, solace and community during the peak of the COVID-19 pandemic. Services were abruptly interrupted by hackers who blasted antiSemitic videos displaying physical horrors so obscene
I will not even begin to describe them. Hateful crimes like these are just the tip of anti-Semitic acts that have moved rapidly and definitively into mainstream conservative and right-wing arenas. They are the result of the infiltration and gradual rise and acceptance of neo-Nazi and white supremacist groups.
Negative rhetoric directed at Jews is poison for our country and democracy, not just to one insular community.
Over the past two decades, American Jews have watched anti-Semitism re-emerge with concern and slight disdain. Dating back to our exodus from
Egypt, our people have been beaten down, enslaved and cast away for practicing our religion and traditions.
Cue the Maccabees, who rebelled against Seleucid rule and rebuilt the temple of Jerusalem. Later, the Nazis who persecuted, hunted, tortured and killed 6 million Jews, solely for being. How many potential Einsteins, Schoenbergs, Disraelis, Meirs and Ginsburgs were lost during this crime against humanity? Then later came the Zionists, that urged us to be our fullest, freest selves — even if doing so made us deeply unpopular or despised. We must follow the lead of our people to be triumphant in times of trouble.
A recently released FBI report reveals that, of all hate crimes against a religious group in the United States in 2019, 60 percent targeted Jews, even though Jews are only 1.7 percent of the U.S. population. Now more than ever, tradition and ritual are pertinent. We need to connect to our roots, stare down bigotry and stand up to anti-Semitism.
Tradition was always renewed by the Jewish people who made the choice, over and over again, in the face of tragedy that theirs would not be the end of the Jewish story, but, instead, the catalyst for writing a new chapter. In today’s divided world, the stakes are different, but the fundamental choice in the face of uncertainty remains the same: Does safety come from camouflaging ourselves to look more like everyone else? Or does it come from tuning into and turning up what made us special to begin with?
In these trying times, our best strategy is to build, without shame, a Judaism and a Jewish people who are not only safe and resilient, but also generative, humane and joyful. The long arc of Jewish history makes it clear that the only way to fight is by waging an affirmative battle for who we are.