This Week In Antisemitism: אף על פי כן / In Spite of It All

As I do periodically, I thought I might share with you my weekly email to my students at Babson College here in MA. Several of them privately shared their fears with me this week, as once again antisemitism made headlines. This time, it surfaced via the unapologetic voices of two the most famous people in the world—with two of the largest online followings in the world. If you read through to the end, please note my postscript that I’m adding for this blog. —Neal

Unfortunately, it was a rough week in the news for Jewish Americans. Because this week, anti-Jewish hatred reared its ugly, snarling head from two directions. 

The most famous entertainer in the world spewed an irrational, hate-filled tirade on a popular podcast and (of course) on Twitter, where he swore to go, um, “Deathcon 3” on “the Jews.” Simultaneously, the former President stoked antisemitism again when he claimed American Jews weren’t “grateful enough” for his past support of Israel and they should “get their act together” “before it’s too late.”  

The fact that both of these statements sound like threats of violence is bad enough for a community on edge. And the fact that both of these individuals have massive numbers of followers, some of whom belong to antisemitic blocs who might take these comments as dog whistles, is even worse.  

After all, the Jewish community has experienced a terrifying rise antisemitic assaults in the past few years—unprecedented in our lifetimes—to know that violent language unchecked inevitably leads to violent actions. Do we have to go over, once again, the list of the Jews who have been killed, the synagogues that have been attacked, and the Jewish institutions that have been vandalized?  

But what feels so awful this week is that the hatred has been so coarse and… old. Here's what I mean. 

Every minority group has a history of being victimized by bigots. And for each group, there is the coarsest, grossest sorts of stereotypes with which they’ve been slandered. Think about it for a minute, and you’ll know what I mean. 

So, the Jew-hatred that we’ve seen this week struck all the most ancient and archaic tropes. Kanye’s hate included: the Jews run Hollywood and the media; insidious Jewish power blocs will shut down anyone they disagree with; Jews are rich and their moneyed interests manipulate the world. These are the most disgusting and, well, clichéd forms of antisemitism, and it’s so sad that there is still a large and eager audience for them. 

What Kanye missed the former President picked up on. That’s the slander of “dual loyalty:” You must not be “real Americans,” because your secret loyalty lies elsewhere—namely, the State of Israel. Haven’t we all had enough of this man’s pathetic charges that if you’re not with him, you’re anti-America?  

Money. The media. The banks. Secret power. Dual loyalty. There’s nothing new here; it’s all the classic forms of anti-Jewish hate. And it was all thrown in our faces this week very publicly by very famous and influential people. 

So where do we go from here? Where do we find hope?  

As for me, I find hope in you. In the Jewish community, there is hope to be found whenever someone asserts their Jewish identity, embraces their heritage, and refuses to be afraid. The Torah emphasizes joy and love, and I’m determined not to let haters steal those things from us.

And outside the Jewish community, there is hope to be found whenever people stand united with each other against hate and say: we refuse to let others’ lies and slanders turn us against each other. Love and decency win out in the long run, even if they seem to get trounced in the short run.  

Earlier this week, an interfaith and multicultural group of students, faculty, and staff gathered beneath the Babson Globe to stand in solidarity and prayer, simply to bear witness to the pain and suffering in the world. It was very powerful, and I left the Peace Circle filled with hope and energy. 

I had the privilege of closing that gathering, and I shared the following words from the 19th century mystical master Rebbe Nachman of Bratzlav. (Bratzlav, by the way, is in besieged Ukraine.) These, too, are words of hope: 

וְדַע שֶׁהָאָדָם צָרִיךְ לַעֲבֹר עַל גֶּשֶׁר צַר מְאֹד מְאֹד
וְהַכְּלָל וְהָעִקָּר – שֶׁלֹּא יִתְפַּחֵד כְּלָל 

Know this: That each person must cross a very—very!—narrow bridge.
And the rule, the fundamental thing, is:  Not to be afraid. 

Shabbat Shalom, 

Neal 

That’s what I wrote to my students. Here, I’ll add that two other things happened to me this past week that also gave me hope, along the lines of the themes that I included in my final paragraphs above:

In the spirit of interfaith sharing, I felt lucky to be part of a discussion panel that met at First Parish Church in Weston, MA earlier this week. Each panelist - representing Jewish, Muslim, Christian, and Baha’i faiths - spoke on the theme of “Hope in Our Fractured World.” There were about 100 people in attendance. And it was quite lovely; a gathering of people of good faith, seeking a bit of common ground, understanding, and perspective from one another.

Second, there was Simchat Torah. And it occurs to me that in recent years, Simchat Torah could be subtitled, אף על פי כן / “In spite of it all…”. In other words, we know that there’s a lot of pain in the world, as institutions and protections and beliefs we took for granted sway precariously. And in spite of it all: This week, we took the Torah in our arms and danced and sang. At least, that’s what we did at the Walnut Street Minyan in Newton, MA. And it was beautiful and joyous, and filled with hope, as we bid the holiday season farewell, and prepared to face the winter that is coming…

Why We Fast

Nobody loves to fast. It’s supposed to be discomfiting. But fasting on Yom Kippur actually becomes a problem when it interferes with the greater purpose of this day; when it distracts our intentions rather than amplifying them.

Why fast? How does fasting enhance the experience of Yom Kippur?

The big picture is that Jewish tradition puts a variety of tools at our disposal in order to enhance our Teshuvah. One of those tools is the Machzor and its poetry, as it is customary to spend much of the day immersed in communal prayer. Another tool is Tzedakah: giving generously for the purpose of World-Repair. This is imperative, because it is important not just to talk about change, but also to put it into action.

But the most obvious observance of Yom Kippur is fasting. For those who are physically able—there is no Jewish value in damaging or hurting ourselves—fasting serves a variety of purposes.
 

1.     Fasting is about stepping away from the physical to focus on the spiritual. We set aside material things, like food and drink, to reflect on questions that are… Higher.

For one day a year (the other fast days have very different messages), we allow our spirits to sustain our bodies, rather than vice-versa.

2.     Fasting is about discipline. So much of our lives—and so many of our problems—can be attributed to the need to satiate our appetites. Showing ourselves that we have the strength to not be controlled by these appetites (they may be unhealthy attitudes towards food, work, money, sex, control, or many other things) is an important part of taking back control of our lives.

This is important. So many of the “sins” and “transgressions” that we encounter in the Yom Kippur liturgy stem from the Yetzer Ha-Ra, that impulse within us to satisfy our appetites and therefore to focus on the basest, coarsest, most materialistic and physical aspects of living. That’s not always a bad thing. A midrash teaches:

“And it was very good” (Genesis 1:31)—This refers to the Yetzer Ha-Ra.

This is astonishing: Can the Yetzer Ha-Ra really be considered “very good”?! Yes: If not for the Yetzer Ha-Ra, a person would never build a home, get married, have children, or go to work. (Bereishit Rabbah 9:4)

The point is that we must control and harness our appetites, to direct them towards things that are constructive rather than destructive. When we control them, they can be for a blessing. When they control us, they leave a trail of destruction—personally, environmentally, and so on—in their wake.

3.     Fasting is about empathy. When we go a few hours without eating, we feel it. That feeling should remind us of the great numbers of people, some of them quite nearby, who know hunger (of all sorts) every day. Our discomfort, modest as it may be, is supposed to make us more compassionate, more generous, more sensitive to the needs of others. It is one thing to say it; it is quite another to feel it in our kishkas.

This is what Isaiah was getting at in the extraordinary Haftarah on Yom Kippur morning (Isaiah 58) – “Is this the fast I desire?...” It’s amazing how the tradition smacks us with these words at just about that point in the morning when our stomachs begin to growl, when we start to become aware of the fact that we skipped breakfast.

I’ve said it before: Empathy is the most human of emotions. Animals can be compassionate; every pet owner knows that. But empathy means that I can feel for other humans whom I’ve never met, who may be far away from me. (My dog does not feel affection or concern for canines he has never met in other states or continents.) This year, as I fast, I’ll be thinking of those who are rebuilding their lives after Hurricane Ian. I’ll certainly be thinking of the people of Ukraine and their righteous fight against Putin’s aggressive war. And I’ll be thinking of the extraordinary women of Iran who are casting off their hijabs and defying the authority of the Morality Police. To cite just a few examples.

Rather than thinking of fasting as a struggle, we should consider it a gift. It is one more tool in the arsenal of Yom Kippur to trigger the deepest possible spiritual awakening on this day, and to help make real the lofty and ambitious challenges that the day puts before us.

May your fast be deep, meaningful, and rewarding.