According to a recent study by the ADL, anti-Semitism in America is the lowest it has ever been. Of course this is a good thing. Of course we want to eradicate anti-Semitism, and racism and bigotry and sexism and homophobia and every other kind of crazy baseless hate. But the effect of this widespread acceptance of, and even appreciation of, Jews in American life has had a sizeable effect on Jewish Identity: 20 percent of American Jews do not identify as religious. In our bright, glittery world of Woody Allen and Drake and hummus and chutzpah, we are liberated of the terrible stigma that has always marked us as other. This should be beautiful, this should be glorious, this should be the stuff of utopian fantasy! And yet.

Here I am now with this terrible luxury, this magnificent burden, of choice. I have the ability to choose Judaism, or not to choose it. I am not branded, segregated, or shunned by the circumstances of my birth; I am amazingly, terrifyingly free. For many young American Jews, this means religion-lite, religion in small, calorie-free portions. A brisket sandwich, sure. A little Heineken and hamantaschen when Purim rolls around, no problem. A Friday night service? That’s a bit much, now, giving up some of my Friday night to participate in a tradition I have little connection to or interest in maintaining. Why should I, the wicked son, participate in something arcane and musty and confining? I have no incentive. And therein lies the tragedy.

At the 2013 Jewish Federations of North American General Assembly held last month in Israel, I met Jews from Poland, England, France and an array of other places. Places where, I was chagrined to learn, anti-Semitism is not the lowest it has ever been; rather, it is on the rise. Thus the young adults I met from those countries were fighting, still, for the freedom to be Jewish. Fighting! For what so many American Jews give up voluntarily, thoughtlessly, every one an Esau throwing his birthright at a pot of lentils. In an environment of openness and tolerance, where Jews are not held together by the threat of external forces, we must find a concrete way to retain Jewish identity and encourage its continuation.

The greatest accomplishment of the General Assembly of 2013 was the ingathering of so many cognizant, clever, and vibrant young Jews: Jews from all across North America as well as the world over, Jews with brilliant, enterprising minds and fresh ideas and well-thought-out opinions derived from formative experiences. We learned so much just from being in the same room with each other. Sharing our beliefs and passions and ideas enriched our sense of Jewishness and of belongingness, which really boils down to being the same thing. Judaism is a way of life built on community, on togetherness, on belonging to something created by individuals and yet greater than any individual. Together, we hold the future of our people in our young, unlined palms, and it is that spirit of unity, and the strength of that unity, which will eventually draw young, apathetic Jews back to Judaism.

Samantha Oppenheimer is the daughter of Carla and Scott Oppenheimer and a member of Congregation Beth Shalom. She is currently spending the year on Masa’s Israel Service Fellows program, teaching English at a rehabilitation village for troubled youth, planting and maintaining community gardens for older immigrant communities and various other volunteering placements.

“Overweight Sensation: The Life and Comedy of Allan Sherman” by Mark Cohen (Brandeis University Press, 353 pp. Also available in Kindle and Nook editions)

When I told people I was in the middle of reading a book about Allan Sherman, I was surprised how few people even recognized the name, including people from my own generation, who might be expected to remember this comic genius who was at one time one of the most popular entertainers in America, whose comedy albums, beginning with “My Son, the Folk Singer” rivalled the albums of the best-known singers of the era on Billboard’s charts. At best, some may remember “Hello Muddah, Hello Faddah,” a song about a homesick boy at summer camp.

The old cliché about the clown crying on the inside was certainly true of Sherman, whose life is described in Mark Cohen’s fascinating study, “Overweight Sensation.” With a narcissistic mother and a neglectful father and two stepfathers, young Allan’s life might have been completely devoid of sustenance had he not been shipped off for long periods of time to live with his maternal grandparents, Esther and Leon Sherman. As Cohen tells it, “The whole Jewish world that Sherman’s mother rejected was now his to discover and enjoy, and he did.” He expressed his devotion to the Shermans by adopting their surname for his stage name. Unfortunately, their nurturing was apparently not enough to overcome the insecurity Allan felt as a child, and much of the narrative of his life concerns his numerous addictions — tobacco, alcohol, gambling, overeating and multiple sex partners — which destroyed both his family life and his health and probably contributed to his early death just short of age 49.

While Sherman had a varied career in the entertainment industry (he was the producer of various game shows, including “I’ve Got a Secret”), he is best remembered for his song parodies, many of which have stood the test of time. Anyone who works in this genre, whether they be professional singers such as Weird Al Yankovic or the Capitol Steps, or simply people writing a Purim spiel for their local synagogue, works in the shadow of Allan Sherman. Moreover, Cohen asserts, Sherman was a pioneer in the development of ethnic humor in general paving the way for Jewish comedians such as Woody Allen and Jerry Seinfeld, as well as comics in other ethnic groups, such as African-Americans.

If “Overweight Sensation” were simply a biography of one man, it would probably be of limited interest to all but a handful of nostalgia buffs. But it is much more than that. Mark Cohen has provided us with a brilliant analysis of Sherman’s work and its place in the development of Jewish humor and ethnic humor in general in American culture.

Whereas it is sometimes fashionable to refer to humor such as Sherman’s as self-deprecating, in Cohen’s view, Sherman’s parodies were meant as affirmation of Jewish ethnicity. When “How are Things in Glocca Morra” was changed to “How are Things With Uncle Morris,” it was an ironic call to Jewish composers to assert their own roots. As Sherman once commented sardonically, “How would it have been if all the great Broadway hits of the great Broadway shows had been written by Jewish people — which they were.”

One of the many strengths of Cohen’s study is his analysis of the way in which Sherman’s humor works. Speaking of the English of Yiddish immigrants, he says “The life it represents is simple, direct and unpretentious. With such qualities, the more serious the original material, the funnier the Jewish parody.” When Sir Greenbaum (in the “Greensleeves” parody) declares that knighthood is “no job for a boy who is Jewish,” he is not ridiculing the Jews so much as he is expressing Jewish skepticism of the whole concept of knighthood, similar to that expressed by Rebecca in Scott’s “Ivanhoe.” Cohen points out that another reason for Sherman’s popularity was his timeliness, as the first Jewish comedian to chronicle the Jews’ migration to the suburbs. When he resigns the knighthood, Sir Greenbaum moves not to Brooklyn but rather to Shaker Heights.

In short, “Overweight Sensation” is much more than the story of one man. It is rather an important analysis of American ethnic culture and our place in it. On this basis I give it my highest recommendation.

The Chanukah that was

The date for the stone setting for Rabbi Margolies is Dec. 1. His many accomplishments, as well as never forgotten memories, are deeply etched in the minds of the Kansas City Jewish community. One memorable occasion was a particular Chanukah address.

That year Chanukah came late according to the Gregorian calendar. A large crowd of worshippers attended Shacharit services at Beth Shalom Synagogue on that Sunday of Chanukah because it fell on December 25th, the birthdate of Rabbi Morris Margolies. Entering the social hall of the synagogue following the service, the large turnout knew from the pleasant smell of Mr. Koppel’s steaming eggs and the sight of bagels before they became secularized that the breakfast would sufficiently fortify them to attend to Rabbi Margolies’ address. That year he did not talk about the unending light from the small vial of sacred Shemen. Instead his opening remarks were that the desecration of the Bet HaMikdash was the first of an uncountable number of anti-Semitic attacks that the Jewish people endured for about 2,000 years.

Rabbi Margolies spoke forcefully regarding the drenching of European soil with Jewish blood. His account of the ruthless Crusaders who without reason slaughtered Jews who tenaciously held to the Torah that G-d had given them. These heroic and loyal Jews held fast to our tradition as they lost their lives at the hands of the Cross. The rabbi spoke of the pervasive influence of Pope Innocent III who declared at the Fourth Lateran Council that Jews were to be assigned to “perpetual servitude” because of their complicity in the crucifixion of Jesus. Among other crimes against the Jews that Rabbi Margolies cited were the eviction from Spain, the German ovens of the Holocaust and with particular emphasis to personify the indignities that Jews suffered each day of their lives the virulent anti-Semitism directed to the son of a French assimilist family. His face was filled with anguish when retelling the story of artillery officer Alfred Dreyfus who was an uninformed Jew and whose father had declared that baptism was the only antidote for Jewish survival. I recall vividly that the word the rabbi used for this false accusation of treason against the French people was “canard,” in this case a groundless, anti-Semitic rumor that led to the ripping of the buttons from Dreyfus’ uniform, the breaking of his sword, and confinement to prison until his eventual release and later his exoneration. For Jews, he said, the rebirth of Israel meant that its citizens could live a life of Torah without the treachery and indignities of anti-Semitism, concluding with this remark: Quoth the raven, “Nevermore.” With great applause the attendees stood and sang Happy Birthday in Hebrew.

Harris Winitz

Kansas City, Mo.

Thanks for the coverage

Thank you for the articles and photos you published recently in honor of our Centennial Celebration in Greater Kansas City on Sunday, Nov. 10. Your extensive coverage not only informed members about our event, but also educated our community about the history of our Hadassah Chapter in the past 100 years and enabled us to share our vision for the future. A special thank-you to Barbara Bayer for the well-written article she wrote about the Greater Kansas City Chapter in the Oct. 31 issue after interviewing us.

As a result of your publicity, we welcomed 143 members, guests and Associates (men who support the women of Hadassah) to our celebration. In addition to a luncheon and fashion show, attendees learned about our current Hadassah projects in the United States, Israel and around the world and we raised funds to promote our mission inspired by the values of our founder, Henrietta Szold.

Please accept our sincere thanks for helping us start our second century in such a positive way.

Marian Kaplan

President

Greater Kansas City Chapter of Hadassah

Rita Shapiro

President

Great Plains Region of Hadassah

I read with great interest Barbara Bayer’s commentary/response to the community conversation regarding the Pew Research study of which I was a panel participant. My admiration and respect for all of my fellow participants was affirmed during the evening. I was and am appreciative for the opportunity to share my views and the work of my Congregation Kol Ami with the community. However, there is one inaccuracy in the article that requires clarification.

I am not a Reform rabbi. It is not that I would in any way have an issue with being one if I were so. I have great respect for the character and work of all of the Reform rabbis in our community. Having spent most of my adult life as a member of Congregation Beth Torah I am grateful for having been a part of such a wonderful Jewish community (Mazel Tov to them for their 25 years of contributing to Jewish life in Kansas City), and particularly to have Rabbi Mark Levin for my rabbi.

However, I did not receive smichah from (was not ordained by) a seminary recognized by the Reform movement. My seminary, the Academy for Jewish Religion in New York takes great pride in being a pluralistic, trans/post/multi-denominational school. I had three Talmud teachers: one Orthodox rabbi, one Conservative rabbi and one Reform rabbi. My colleagues also represented the broad spectrum of the Jewish American community. For davening we had available to us Siddurim from all movements: Reconstructionist, Renewal, Conservative, Orthodox and Reform.

As I explicitly stated during the community conversation, in addition to the many years I spent at Reform Congregation Beth Torah, I grew up at Beth Shalom (Conservative), davened at Orthodox congregation Kesher Israel in Washington, D.C., during my college years, and was the rabbinic intern at Ohev Sholom (Conservative). I liked and valued each of those experiences, and find something to commend in what each of our broad Jewish communities have to offer K’lal Yisrael. I simply do not want to have to choose one over the other, and would rather freely take what I like from each.

Congregation Kol Ami has never officially affiliated with the Reform movement. More to the point, our kehilah made the conscious decision over the last year or so to present ourselves as non-movement specific, an open tent eager for what each unique voice can bring into our community to enrich our collective spiritual lives. Our members represent this broad spectrum of Jewish theology and practice, seeing our community as one that eagerly welcomes those who have elsewhere felt disenfranchised: Jews who are new to the city with little previous connection to anyone in the community, interfaith couples and families, and people from the LGBT community.

This decision was attendant to our decision to buck a decades-long trend in Kansas City’s Jewish community of moving further and further away from the central city. We are now a truly urban synagogue, worshipping at 45th and Walnut, locating our community garden at 43rd and Forest (east of Troost) working with the historic Manheim Park neighborhood, and engaging in issues of social justice and concern to the central city (issues of gun violence, racial and economic justice, comprehensive immigration reform). By actually locating in the central city these problems truly become “our problems” and not “their problems.”

I would respectfully suggest that categorizing me and my congregation as Reform is not merely a misstatement, but rather reflective of an adherence to preserving a familiar and comfortable way of looking at Judaism in the United States versus seeking real change, and finding new ways to look at forming strong Jewish communities. (The panel organizers also insisted that I was on the panel representing the Reform movement, notwithstanding my insistence that it was not the case.)

Bayer rightfully asserts that “... we have to make adjustments in the way we do things to maintain a viable Jewish community.” But she questions whether or not we will do more than talk about making those needed changes during the next 20 years, stating that “only time will tell.”

We at Congregation Kol Ami are making those changes now. What remains to be seen is whether our Jewish community leaders will support those changes designed to create and strengthen Jewish community, rather than only discuss the need for change, yet commit total support solely to programs and institutions that maintain the status quo.

In regard to disputing my assertion that strong Jewish communities will be built through relationship, and not programming, I would suggest for reading, Dr. Ron Wolfson’s book “Relational Judaism,” Rabbi Elie Kaunfer’s book “Empowered Judaism” and the S3K Report-Synagogue 3000 study, “Reform and Conservative Congregations: Different Strengths, Different Challenges,” which I mentioned during the community conversation.

For those who were wondering, the sky is not falling. In fact, as one panelist so eloquently put it last week, it would be strategically unwise to be pessimistic.

I agree.

And when I left last week’s community conversation, which discussed the recent Pew Research Center study, “A Portrait of Jewish Americans: Is the Sky Falling?” I was more optimistic than I typically am. Do we have to make adjustments in the way we do things to maintain a viable Jewish community? You bet. Do we have a clue how to do that? I don’t really think so. Will we actually do more than talk about needing to make changes during the next 20 years? Only time will tell.

Even with all those uncertainties, I walked away from the community conversation — hosted by the Jewish Federation, the Rabbinical Association and the Jewish Funders Council — last week feeling good about our community. Here in Kansas City, or more accurately southern Johnson County where the majority of our local Jewish population lives, we’ve known for a while that we need to do things differently to continue to have a viable, vibrant Jewish community. So the numbers that came out in the Pew Research Center study shouldn’t have been a surprise. The study pointed out that the proportion of Jews who say they have no religion and are Jewish only on the basis of ancestry, ethnicity or culture is growing rapidly. We can see that in the decline of synagogue members. The study also said two-thirds of these people are not raising their children Jewishly at all. That’s easy to figure out as well, based on the fact that the intermarriage rate is at 58 percent, up from 43 percent in 1990, and 17 percent in 1970. Among non-Orthodox Jews, the intermarriage rate is even higher at 71 percent.

So while there’s been quite a bit of national analysis on the Pew Research Center study, approximately 130 people came out on a stormy Kansas City evening to hear what our local experts had to say. That fact alone — that so many people showed up when it would be easier to not venture out at all — was enough to boost my spirits.

Those experts represented the three major Jewish religious movements — Orthodox Rabbi Daniel Rockoff, Conservative Rabbi David Glickman and Reform Rabbi Doug Alpert; two agencies that have a major impact on young people and families — Hillel Executive Director Jay Lewis and Jewish Community Center President and CEO Jacob Schreiber; and community volunteers Sarah Beren and Victor Wishna. The panel presented its views and answered questions from the audience during the event.

As Lewis pointed out, there are many positives in the study under discussion. In fact, 94 percent of those who identified as Jewish said they were proud to do so. It was also heartening to hear Rabbi Rockoff say that he believes God will never let the Jewish people disappear.

Our problems, our lack of Jewish involvement and engagement, could very well stem from the fact that it’s never been easier to be Jewish. We were told that it’s a blessing and a curse that Jews are now totally accepted by the general community. Young Jews today didn’t live through the Holocaust and may not even know any survivors. To them, Israel hasn’t been the struggling young Jewish state many of us grew up with … and from their perspective, it has even frequently been portrayed as the aggressor.

Congregation Beth Shalom’s Rabbi Glickman may have presented the best idea of the night. He pointed out that we throw money and programs at a wide variety of age groups starting with Jewish preschoolers and teens — including all the various youth groups, Hillel and Birthright Israel — all good things he added. But we do very little once these young adults graduate college. Then we expect them to marry Jewish people, raise their children Jewish and join congregations. With that huge gap in programming for many young Jewish people who get married — on average between the ages of 29-35 — that lack of connection and the resulting disengagement can be hard to overcome.

Rabbi Glickman concluded the evening by reminding us we have to reach out and bring every person we know into our community. Interestingly enough, this same point came up at the beginning of the evening when Rabbi Alpert reminded us the Jewish community has to be welcoming to everyone — saying it’s about relationships, not programs. I think we actually do need programming, especially programs that bring us together. I’ve been to several big events in the last month and there’s nothing better than being in a room filled with Jewish people, especially Jewish people you know well and can joke and laugh with.

One example of the power of programming is the success of KU Hillel. The Jewish student organization recently hosted more than 550 people at the 12th annual Rock Chalk Shabbat. During the rest of the school year, KU Hillel consistently provides programs and meals for hundreds of Jewish students. Through those programs, KU Hillel ultimately builds relationships. Statistics show that many of these students, especially those who take part in a Birthright Israel experience, tend to be more dedicated to the Jewish community after they graduate.

This isn’t nearly enough though. We need to find ways to change and evolve. Borrowing one of Lewis’ lines from the community conversation, young Jews are not disinterested, but their engagement may differ from the traditional way to which many of us are accustomed. Schreiber reminded us that “change is cool,” and we need to listen as our young people try to re-invent the Jewish community. Perhaps we should find out what they want before we plan programs for them.

While we’re doing that, listening to our young people and figuring out where we need to go next, let’s hope funders and donors follow Sarah Beren’s advice.

“Take a leap of faith and invest in our future.”

Well said Sarah.

A genuine mitzvah

Thank you so much for publishing the excellent piece regarding kidney transplants by Judy Firestone Singer as well as The Chronicle’s helpful articles about my condition last summer.

Last week, Ellen Murphy (our donor) and I attended a conference on transplants hosted by Gift of Life, an organization dedicated to inculcate a culture of helping each other in these matters. It was an extraordinary gathering of several hundred people — many mother/daughter, father/son and friend-to-friend organ-sharing stories. Others were anonymous donors.

All in all, the message was clear: help your community by being an organ donation advocate and potential organ donor.

The need for donors now way exceeds the supply. The gift of donating is highly personal. Know, however, it does not impair your health and adds immeasurably to the lives of others.

Certainly, nachas for all but most important, a genuine mitzvah!

David Seldner

Leawood, Kan.

Taboo subjects hide in every facet of our society. Shame and stigma create a protective force around the topics, allowing them to thrive and reproduce unhindered by social conventions.

Unfortunately, domestic violence is one of these secret and shameful issues. The good news is that October is Domestic Violence Awareness Month. The designation shines a light on the abuse that lurks in the dark recesses of our society, including right here in the Kansas City area. The attitude that all domestic issues should remain private is both dangerous and archaic. Domestic violence is sadly alive and flourishing in the 21st Century.

The effects of abuse are not just personal and short term. It affects family members, co-workers and our communities. The lasting effects of abuse are just now being investigated, and a new national survey conducted by More Magazine and the Verizon Foundation spotlights the long-term health effects that domestic violence has on chronic illness. The startling results of the survey include:

Forty-four percent of women report that they have personally experienced a form of domestic violence — physical, emotional, sexual, economic or psychological.

Ninety-one percent of women believe that health care professionals should screen for domestic violence during an exam. However, 75 percent of women report that no health care provider has ever inquired about domestic violence. That number increases to 85 percent in women older than 65.

In women suffering from chronic health issues — such as diabetes, digestive disease, asthma and high blood pressure — domestic violence increases the existence of chronic diseases by as much as 18 percent.

The attitude that domestic violence is nobody’s business is false. The repercussions of violence have long-term medical and economic impacts. Our health care system will be increasingly taxed caring for the chronic illnesses that are created or exacerbated by the violence. When an employee is chronically sick, business productivity is diminished, and the employee may be fired. This can lead to an increase in unemployable individuals, which can overwhelm the welfare system.

Remember that domestic violence issues affect everyone. The shame should not engulf the violence, but the silence. It is time we give a voice to this once forbidden issue. If domestic violence continues to thrive, our medical and economic systems may be headed for disaster. The first step is awareness that domestic violence exists far too often. As a society, it is time to educate everyone, especially our youth, that violent behaviors are not acceptable — ever.

L.J. Kaufman, a Jewish woman who lives in Overland Park, is an attorney, college professor and author of the domestic violence novel, “It’s Never a Secret.”

(Editor’s note: This article first appeared on The Times of Israel website, www.timesofisrael.com, on Oct. 21 and is reprinted with permission. It was written prior to the surgery that took place Tuesday, Oct. 29. At press time, The Chronicle learned that the surgery went well. Singer is the daughter of the late Chronicle publisher Milton Firestone and the late Bea Firestone Wasserstrom Flam and is an alumna of the Hyman Brand Hebrew Academy.)

Next week, barring last-minute delays, I will be admitted to the vascular surgery ward at Rambam Hospital in Haifa. The next morning a surgeon is scheduled to remove my right kidney and transfer it to the body of R, a woman from Haifa near my own age, who has suffered from a severe kidney disease for the past 10 years. If all goes well, my kidney will allow R to regain her health and return to a normal, productive life.

This surgery will be the culmination of quite a long journey which has come to be something of a vocation, a trek that has taken me far from my comfort zone. I have been permitted a small glimpse into the lives of people for whom taking care of their health is a full-time job, and who yearn for something that most of us feel entitled to automatically — the right to take good health for granted. (Read more at http://blogs.timesofisrael.com/youre-donating-what/)

When Prime Minister Yitzhak Rabin was assassinated, I was there. I remember that moment vividly to this day. It was Nov. 4, 1995. I was with my family and a full bus from our kibbutz. The energy was high, the crowd was huge and it felt like change was in the air. And then, three shots were fired … three shots that changed history for the State of Israel. When Israelis voted the Labor Party into government in June 1992, with Yitzhak Rabin at its helm, they knew well what they were getting. Here was a man who had been in public life for more than 40 years. When he became prime minister for the first time in 1974, he had been the first native-born Israeli (sabra) to attain the post. His astonishingly successful military record, no-nonsense speaking style, gravelly voice and oddly shy little smile were as familiar to Israelis as would be the mannerisms of a favorite uncle. Yet, in a short span, they would meet a new Yitzhak Rabin — a great war commander and implacable foe of the PLO transformed into a soldier for peace, and a Nobel laureate. And so, in November 1995, when this first-ever sabra/prime minister became the first-ever Israeli prime minister to be assassinated in office — and by a young Jew, no less — Israelis came to know with horror and grief what they had lost.Rabin’s assassination took place at a big peace rally, supporting him and the peace process. Everyone I was with was excited about this rally. Things in Israel were changing and a new era was about to begin … my parents were not about to let my siblings and I miss that. I was only 11 years old at the time, and didn’t understand much of what was going on around me. Still, it was educational. Taking part in such a historic event definitely had an impact on a girl like me.

The rally was moving and powerful, and ended late that Saturday night. After everyone started leaving the town square, we stood across the road from the crowd waiting for Rabin. It was then that the shots went off, three in a row. My father grabbed my hand and we started running away from the area. I looked back and saw that same crowd running toward us like a herd.

We ran for a while and at the time I didn’t understand what had happened. The shots fired sounded like a tire exploding to me. Eventually we got to the bus that took us back to the Kibbutz and then things fell into place. Rumors were going around between the adults about what had happened and somewhere along the coastline, on the way back home, the radio report came saying Yitzhak Rabin had died. The bus was quiet. I remember seeing grownup men and women’s sad, devastated, teary eyes. People were crying as if they knew Rabin personally. But they were also crying for the chance that was taken, for the violent way democracy and trust were harmed.That day changed history and it had a deep impact upon many Israelis, myself included. Grief from the assassination led many Israelis to take a stand, to acknowledge that their apathy toward society cannot exist anymore. People felt the assassination of Rabin was their “wake-up call” to an active society. I made my choice: I chose to be active, to voice my opinions about society and about my community. I chose to make it better. Many Israelis chose to do the same.

Democracy allowed us to be active and make a change in our life for a better future. I wish more people would take that chance and make a difference in their country and their community. I hope we will never need a wake-up call to be active, but just go out and have an impact on our surroundings. I believe in making your own life as you wish it would be, and like Rabin chose the way of peace after years of experience in war, we can choose to make a difference and be active in our lives.

Education prevents prejudice

The attack on professor and physician Dr. Prabhjot Singh in New York City on Sept. 21 is a manifestation of unfounded hatred and ignorance as indicated by a continuous stream of attacks on Sikhs in the past several years.

On the same day a man attacked a Muslim woman during a pro-democracy rally in Times Square, calling her a “terrorist,” grabbing her sign and throwing it at her.

The Greater Kansas City Interfaith Council (GKCIC) commends Dr. Singh for asking everyone to understand one another “through deeper engagement” and not to stereotype as terrorists people who have beards, wear turbans, hijabs or head-coverings.

The attack on Dr. Singh and the Muslim woman indicate the urgency and importance of dedicating ourselves to learning about each other, which in turn helps prevent prejudice, stereotypes and violence.

The GKCIC offers a speakers bureau and programs throughout the year so that people in our community have the opportunity to learn about different faiths and cultures. To request speakers or to become educated about various religions, visit kcinterfaith.org.

Sheila Sonnenschein

Convener

Greater KC Interfaith Council