Every Christmas and every Easter our friends around town would ask, “Are you coming to the Christmas party?” Or, “Are you coming to Easter dinner?” To which my spouse would answer, mostly at Easter time, “Well, if you want somebody running around the room yelling “Pogrom, Pogrom!”
Other than having to explain what “pogrom” meant, we had a pretty fun time. As vegetarians, though, we couldn’t eat any of the main course. Uh oh, I thought to myself, now I have two strikes – Jewish and vegetarian. I was pretty sure they already knew about the lesbian part so I was hoping nobody asked about political beliefs. I didn’t think you could have four strikes.
And, to be honest, I didn’t much think about the Jewish part until I realized that it never came up. At that point I didn’t know if it didn’t matter or if it was all that mattered. To me it did matter when the teenager we took in to save him from a life of crime came in the door talking about the “dirty Jews.” Hmm, I thought. Where in hell did he hear that? I cleared my throat and asked. “From my dad, “ he said.
Well, that would be his stepdad, and to be truthful, he was an awful man. But at the time, I felt this particular conversation had to be longer than two words so I didn’t mention the stepdad out loud. Fearlessly, I trekked on. “Do you even know what the word ‘Jew’ means? Do you have a lot of Jewish friends?”
“Are you kidding? I never met a Jew and I have no idea what it means.”
“So you never met a Jewish person and you have no idea what it means to be Jewish, then why would you call somebody a ‘dirty Jew’?”
Shoulder shrug.
“So I guess this means you think I’m a dirty Jew, although when it comes out of your mouth again I’d really rather hear the word Jewish. You know, because when you say the words ‘dirty Jewish person’ it’s not as all-inclusive, so you could just be talking about one Jewish person you know who doesn’t wash.”
Shoulder shrug combined with a look that distinctly said “Are you serious about this right now, really?”
All I could think of to say was, “ I will loan you a book about the history of the Jewish people and then we can have this conversation again. You’re a smart guy, so why would you want to learn from people who yell about dirty Jews when they’ve never even met a Jewish person that they know of? It’s pure anti-semitism.”
I got a shorter shrug after an eye roll, probably because he had absolutely no idea what anti-semitism meant, and that he was ready to march off to his room. Being the transplanted Jewish New Yorker on the Comstock was most certainly a teaching experience, although I often didn’t want to be the teacher and wanted to say, “You know, you should read this book…”
I’ve been there. No good deed goes unpunished. Housed an unsheltered person who recoiled when he learned I was gay. But you know? So what? I did my best, and he didn’t get it. Sometimes I feel that religion is at the root of all our troubles. Nonetheless, I love the Bach B Minor Mass and Verdi’s Requiem. Religion can inspire beauty, it’s true. But by and large it inspires hatred and division.