This past Hanukkah was framed by the horrific shooting at the kosher market in Jersey City and the machete attack in the home of a rabbi’s Hanukkah party in Monsey, New York.
Because of the attack at the Jewish Community Campus here in Overland Park several years ago as well as this year’s synagogue shootings, my congregants (as in many synagogues and temples here in Kansas City) have expressed security concerns about our Jewish buildings. Like the other synagogues, temples and Campus, we have upgraded our building’s security significantly.
I have not heard, however, a fear of physical violence on individual Jewish persons. I think that this comes from the fact that the vast majority of non-Orthodox Jews do not choose any distinctive Jewish manner of dress aside from the occasional T-shirt with Hebrew. In short: most of us can pass. It’s not that we hide from our Jewish identity, or shy away from discussing Jewish subjects. To an outsider looking at most of us in a mall, grocery store, or the park, it is rare that someone would say: “There goes a Jew.”
The same cannot be said of our ultra-Orthodox or Haredi brethren. Ultra-Orthodox are visible as Jews every place: whether traveling, shopping or working. With the exception of “local Chabad rabbis” in every hamlet of today’s America, it is not uncommon for a non-Orthodox Jew to have never had a real friendship or relationship with a Haredi Jew.
For the most part, we don’t live in the same towns. We don’t go to the same schools. We don’t shop in the same stores.
To one another, we are often other.
The interesting contrast is the way that the non-Orthodox Jewish community has embraced the non-Jewish religious communities. For the purposes of supporting Israel, the modern and centrist Orthodox communities have also embraced some Christian communities. While we can always do better, the non-Orthodox movements have built strong and robust relationships with our Christian and Muslim communities.
At synagogues and temples throughout our community we see regular interaction between a Jewish religious community and a Christian or Muslim religious community. Sometimes, the interactions are tours or visits to one another’s houses of worship. Sometimes, they are social dinners to simply create organic, human bonds between disparate faith communities. We also see deep collaboration on a local and national level on a variety of public policy issues, justice issues, or scripture-based dialogue.
But rarely do we see these kinds of interactions between ultra-Orthodox Jews and non-Orthodox Jews in any formal capacity. When was the last time you saw a Reform or Conservative synagogue advertising a program titled “Hang out with a Hasid?”
True, we don’t see the near violent animus between Jews as there was in the beginning of the Hasidic movement and the Jewish enlightenment movements (the Haskalah) three centuries ago. Nor do we see the awful as we do in Israel — often over control over the policies of the State. By and large in America, we exist in two separate, parallel worlds.
True, there are very significant and meaningful differences between the ultra-Orthodox and non-Orthodox worlds that should not be papered over. These go far deeper than dress and neighborhood, but into the ways we interpret scripture, the role of women in our communities, and the overall acceptance of Western values.
Additionally, there is a long history of ultra-Orthodox rabbis not permitting their rabbis to formally work in partnership with non-Orthodox rabbis. For some, it is forbidden to even enter a non-Orthodox synagogue.
Within non-Orthodox communities I am sure that there is also subconscious messaging where we may telegraph to our communities to not go into their places of worship or community.
However, if we think about it, there are also huge chasms between ourselves and non-Jewish groups. And yet, we find ways to create partnerships. Might there be Christian groups we partner with on domestic social issues who also support the BDS movement? Might there be individual Muslims in our interfaith programs who don’t believe in the legitimacy of a Jewish state? Might there be Christian groups with whom we find common cause on Israel, but also think Jews are damned without accepting Christianity? Despite this, we find ways of building friendships and allies.
Could the views of the ultra-Orthodox be so much more offensive?
The Hanukkah attacks provoked universal condemnation. The fact is, though, all of 2019 has been peppered with anti-Semitic incidents against the ultra-Orthodox. These attacks were negligible topics of conversation amongst the non-Orthodox until Hanukkah.
The response of the impressive march last Sunday in New York was inspiring. However, it was also apparent that there were few ultra-Orthodox in the crowd numbering more than 25,000 marching. (In another observation: There were also virtually no non-Orthodox at the 90,000 person crowd celebrating the completion of the Talmud at MetLife Stadium just days earlier).
To the degree that these attacks did not register on our personal radars prior to Hanukkah, we need to ask ourselves: why not?
The most profound question of the Torah is HaShomer Achi Anochi? “Am I my brother’s keeper?”
In our approach toward the non-Jewish world, we have spent so much of the 70 years since the Shoah answering this question with a resounding: “Yes!” We have done an incredible job of bringing ourselves to see religious communities unlike our own as our brothers and our sisters.
This has come from the hard work of many individuals, organizations and denominations both inside and outside the Jewish community. But why do we only work at this with our non-Jewish neighbors, why not each other?
What would it look like to have the same desire to build intra-faith relations as inter-faith relations?
When I participate in multi-denominational initiatives, I am usually with Jewish leaders who are fairly close to me philosophically. What would it mean to work to build real relationships across profound philosophical chasms?
Can we afford not to? Is it impossible to find any opportunities to build actual ally-ship and friendship? Can we afford to view an entire segment of the Jewish world as other instead of brother?
Rabbi David M. Glickman is senior rabbi of Congregation Beth Shalom.
