This past Tuesday, JTA published a story whose main points continue to churn in my head. The article documents celebrations of Israel’s 60th nationwide, but focuses specifically on the anti-Israel counter protests occurring simultaneously and how this discourse of pro-vs-anti, celebration-vs-nakba (the Palestinian word for Israeli independence, translated: tragedy) is viewed and explained to our youngest generation of Jews.
Indeed, it must be both difficult and terrifying for a child to witness such protesting, no doubt it is just as unnerving for me to watch. But, as one mother quoted in the article points out, “you’re allowed to protest. It’s part of living in this country.” Yes, any Israel rally is going to highlight the freedoms of speech and assembly which this country prides itself on, as that is the nature of heated debate in the US, but in the eye’s of a child I can only imagine that democratic concepts are less resounding than the perception of someone ‘raining on our parade.’
In figuring out the best method of explaining this conflict to our children, I find it interesting, though discouraging, to understand how Palestinians explain Israel to their Children: while a major part of me hopes that they are not the norm, and are merely extremists (duh), videos such a Farfour implement a terrifying mix of extremism and Sesame Street:
I don’t personally remember struggling with the concept of Israel growing up – because I was not subjected to the debate surrounding its existence as a child. Today, however, that debate is more real and heated than it has been in years. At some point these children will be mine (oy) and I will be faced with answering their questions at rallies: of counter protests and biased medias. Of who is killing who, and who is right, and who is wrong, and why.
Who knows what I will say. I myself often struggle with the actions Israels government makes, as well as my place to criticize those decisions. But seemingly always, despite my frustrations, I find myself in support of our beautiful Jewish homeland. I truly hope that my children can feel the passion and warmth towards Eretz Yisrael that I have found; that they can experience her picturesque mountains, valleys, cities and landmarks. More importantly, I hope that my children can do all of these things alongside Palestinians.
Such lofty goals – and likely naive, as is my tendency with this topic – when considering the complexities and inner-workings of hate: something I just don’t understand.
And so my children will, God willing, be able to format their own opinions. I will certainly let them know mine. I will watch and explain to them the news; I will take them to rallies, and let them stand on either side of the line; and I will take them to Israel and let them see for themselves.
Good Shabbos, Shavua Tov.
I’m ready for this inter-Partisan, Democratic Primary fight to be over – which is to say that I’m ready for Barack to win, already, and to move onto bigger things, those being John McCain.
That said, for your viewing pleasure:
At work today, I witnessed a horrible car-accident, in which no one was hurt – thank God – but some significant structural and emotional damage took place. During the mid-afternoon, during which the strip mall I work in is very crowded, a car’s accelerator got stuck, sending the car careening into a Federal Credit Union – two stores down from my restaurant.
The driver was shaken, but fine, as were bystanders. But, amazingly, other than one good Samaritan, no one stopped to help. They did, however, stand back 15-20 feet, and proceed to whip out their camera phones to document what they had witnessed – I can only imagine how embarrassing this must have been for that poor lady.
I was reminded, a few hours later, of part of the opening dialog to The Boondock Saints, a classic in my book, in which the Priest recounts the true story of Kitty Geneviese, a woman who was murdered in Queens in the 1960’s (the ensuing events led to the idea of the ‘bystander effect,’ thanks Bess):
This poor soul cried out, time and time again for help but no person answered her calls. Though many saw, not one so much as called. Her assailant wiped the bloody knife off on her lifeless little body. They watched as he simply walked away. Nobody wanted to get involved. Nobody wanted to take a stand…we must fear evil men and deal with them accordingly, but what we must truly guard against, what we must fear most, is the indifference of good men.
Certainly, the movie – which I truly recommend to any and everyone – does a better job at making the following point (though with much more action and violence) better than I am able, I still wish to impart the profound concept of sitting idly by – and though I am guilty of it too often, I don’t understand why.
No one ever wants anything bad to happen to them – or others, I would hope, but it seems to me more so lately than ever that should a travesty occur, we (as selfish Humans? Americans?) would not only wish them upon someone else, but wish to document them in order to solidify the fact that they are, indeed, happening to someone else. Maybe that explains the cameras, which so voraciously captured todays car fiasco. Perhaps people just wanted to take a picture, in order to share, and speculate, with family, friends and coworkers.
It’s sick, but we get great pleasure out of the downfalls and suffering of others. That of enemies (Israelis/Palestinians, pictures of Arab youth celebrating on 9/11), as well as complete strangers – but strangers whom we could identify with (todays car was the same type which my Mother drives, driven by a woman my mothers age, and despite her pain, all I could think about was “thank God it wasn’t my mother,” as opposed to “I hope that woman is ok, I should check on her”).
Not to paint myself a hero, but I did check on her – because it was the right thing to do. I quickly got back to work, but nonetheless it was something I knew I had to do. How couldn’t I? But then to watch the majority public response – of the removed passersby; eager to note their presence, but not eager to actually help.
Or perhaps, as The Boondock Saints suggests, we are each solely guilty of indifference. That in the face of something awful, we feel no pull to react in any way, and rather than make a difference, we choose to go on with our days and lives. How horrible, and potentially truthful, a realization! But, don’t we? Aren’t we reminded on a regular basis about Genocides in Darfur, about horrible, terrible, disasters happening in Myanmar, China, and elsewhere? And what have we done? We go to a few rallies; we shake our heads when watching CNN, and we go about our damn lives.
Though I am lecturing, it isn’t my intention to point a finger as much as it is to open an eye – to include my own. Every day that we are able, we should be asking ourselves how we can help: in both the bigger, global picture, as well as in the smaller, broken-accelerator day-to-day example. This is suggested in both Judaism as well as the basic Human principles of what is good and right.
For so long I have felt, and perhaps I am utterly naive in thinking so (seriously, don’t be surprised), but to echo the words of Anne Frank: “I still believe, in spite of everything, that people are truly good at heart.” That certainly there are wicked people out there with horrible intentions – but it’s not everyone.
Shit, I hope not. How’s that for food for thought?
Shavuah Tov.
Filed under: America, Frustrations, Goyim, Thoughts | Tags: Burritos, Cultural Interactions, El Salvador, Spanish
Note: I think this post ties into what I mentioned the other day regarding public transportation, though you will certainly be at no loss without reading it…let this be a continuation, if you will.
Those of you who know me well enough are aware that throughout High School I was fortunate to be employed by a popular east coast Burrito chain, (no, not that burrito chain). Now that I am home from school for four months, I am indeed, though somewhat disconcertingly, back in the burrito business – this time as a shift supervisor.
Something which I have always enjoyed about my job, and continue to daily, is the ability I have to interact with the Latin-American community with whom I work: those whom I would, without this job, much more than likely never get to know. Verbal interactions are not forced – I could certainly cook, and generally work around them solely based on smiling and awkward attempts to transmit information non-verbally (though wouldn’t that also be a type of cultural interaction in itself?), but I was fortunate enough to learn a decent amount of Spanish in high school, in addition to speaking it with my mother.
My experiences throughout the past four years (it’s been quite some time now) never fully surprise me, because I firmly believe that any two people can find common denominators albeit very different backgrounds, but they always leave me refreshed and happy that I am able to have them. I’m not sure why. Once the language barrier has been broken – and I do try to do that rather quickly when I’m working, as it leads to a more productive restaurant – I am always surprised at how eager my co-workers are to know about my life: my schooling, my language, and almost always most enthusiastically my religion. I had a conversation today with a co-worker, who is 23, I believe, from El Salvador (most of them are) who was absolutely fascinated by Judaism and English – and though he knew very little, wanted me to make every effort in teaching him phrases, grammar, and verbs which Americans frequent (obscenities always make the list), in addition to the baselines of Jewish History and Theology (in Spanish, I have my work cut out for me). He was relentless, and I was more than thrilled to oblige, because I got such a rush out of interacting with someone whom my perception of societal norms (not necessarily the ones I prescribe to) say I have no place talking to.
We live two very different lives, he and I, so what place did we have interacting? He, a Hispanic working-class twenty-something trying to make money to send home, and I, a white middle-class twenty-something home from college – yes, paying for college, but in college.
A conversation I had with another co-worker today: this one a freshman in High School: quite white, and quite privileged, who after hearing me speaking Spanish, inquired: “You know Spanish? And speak it here? Shouldn’t they just learn English? This is America.” And for a moment I shuddered, hating ever so much my generation and our all too frequent inability to accept, and God forbid embrace cultural differences.
Perhaps I’m the one in left-field, or am weird for the emotional surge I get when talking and developing relationships with those not like me. And perhaps I’m an unsympathetic ass for not understanding why people are so wary of reaching out to a different language or cultural identity. So be it.
I love cultural encounters, and so can you (really!). See you at work.
It’s always a culture shock coming back to Maryland from Indiana: the drivers, for one, are insane here, as opposed to the conversely passive drivers throughout the boondocks of the Midwest, God bless them.
Everything seems faster here; more important. People have work – big work – to goto, in Washington, D.C., of all places, so watch out! Blackberry’s are more commonly toted by business men and women who actually use them for business, rather than sorority girls in black spandex and loose shirts with sideways ponytails (honestly, who said that was fashionable? On the other hand, this author fully enjoys his Treo, so perhaps my bitching isn’t justified. I digress).
My family recently moved to a much more developed, urban suburb of Maryland (North Bethesda), putting us 5-10 minutes driving distance from two major smorgasbords of retail, dining and entertainment venues (Rockville; Bethesda). More importantly, though, I am now a five minute, charming walk from the Metro, granting me access to all this Nations capital and it’s suburbs have to offer. I had lunch with a wonderful friend this afternoon in Dupont Circle, and took full advantage of my new access to public transportation.
An admission: I love the Metro. It gets you places, for cheap. Especially given the $3.80/gallon gas prices our economy is burdened with these days. As of late, everyone is taking it – people who drove before are finally resorting to the transportation options which for so many years they have been too good for. It means less cars on the roads – which is dually positive for our environment, which, though screwed anyway, could use a bit less smog. NPR ran a report the other day covering public transportation use nationwide: they claim ridership on the rails and bus lines is up as much as 80% in some places. Hot damn!
So, certainly, I love the Metro as it is a tool for environmental progress, but particularly I admire the diversity within it’s ridership. In few other places do you find business elite; blue collar; working class; students; tourists; homeless; and any other aimless riders (me!), all utilizing the same service. It is a unique thing to see, and I certainly enjoy it each time I ride. Of course, this is also true of New Yorks subway, Chicago’s ‘L’, or, I’m sure, many other cities public transportation.
My mom, who grew up in the suburbs of Chicago, but frequently found herself on the ‘L,’ city bound, has always spoken fondly of her experiences with public transportation. And though my brother and I grew up on the outskirts of the Metro’s boundaries, it was few and far in between that we rode it’s rails – usually into Washington for a visit to a Museum. My mom always wished, and I now see why, that we had had the opportunities that she did to be immersed into public transit. In the suburbs which so many of us are cushioned and comforted by – and believe me, I still am – we are able to maintain that comfort zone within our cars. They become our portable houses, offering the entertainment and amenities of our homes, just with wheels. But they leave us devoid of any cultural interaction and lacking knowledge of our social surroundings – which I find so unfortunate.
So, my faceless, nameless readership, what is your take? Is public transportation available to you, and if so are you using it? If not, why? Save a buck, or hundreds, God forbid, and utilize what your taxes pay for anyway. Let someone else drive you around, while you catch up on your podcasts and iTunes, read the paper, take a nap, or, hopefully, observe those sitting next to you. It’s too good of an opportunity to miss.
I read a great article in this mornings Washington Post – written by Jeremy Ben-Ami: the man responsible for, and in charge of J-Street (which I am obsessed with, these days, more writing on them, later).
The article, which shares the same title as this post, attempts, successfully if you were asking me, to debunk some of the accepted norms in American Politics and society regarding who is, and is not, pro-Israel. I really am quite pleased that something like this has been written – finally – in a major publication. Though I’m sure many, if not all of these points and conclusions have been brought to the table before today in another venue, this is the first time I’m catching wind of them. So, hooray!
The first issue, or myth, is that of single-Issue American voters who support Political candidates solely based on that candidates Israel platform – usually voting Red/Right because of the GOP candidate’s perceived strength in Israel platform (Evangelical vote?). It’s something I’ve wondered about and struggled with for quite some time. I’ve never understood, as much as I do support Israel, how a voter could pick a candidate based on Israel alone. After reading this paragraph I was reminded of an experience I had nearly four years ago in which I found myself campaigning in Baltimore (a Jew-epicenter, and consequently Israel-support beacon, for those of you out of the loop) for then Presidential candidate Kerry. My kipa, outing me as the Jew I am, compelled a complete stranger to approach, and lecture me for not supporting the candidate (Bush) who was (in his eyes, and in retrospect, he was so wrong!) most pro-Israel. Whatever perception of the political arena I had as a sixteen year old, allowed me to remind this kind stranger that his argument was horse shit, and that voting based on one issue was, well, dumb.
Ben-Ami is, in a paragraph or so, able to break apart the one-Issue-voter much better than I could or can. Most Jewish voters, he explains, do indeed vote for a candidate based on a full assortment of issues, leading to some 80% of Jews voting for Kerry in 2004, according to exit polls.
Other issues which Ben-Ami discusses range from being harsh on Palestinians in order to seem supportive of Israel; the true deceptive motivations of Christian Zionists such as John Hagee; the notion that to discuss peace with your enemy is to appear weak; and my favorite, that Dubya has been Israel’s best friend for the last eight years.
So many of these misconceptions sway many American in the wrong directions come voting time. I’m really glad The Post put this out. Please do take the time to read it.
On another note, I also suggest this brief Q&A with troubled Prime Minister Olmert, also published in today’s Post. Shavua Tov.
