Against Antisemitism
The other day I stumbled upon this sticker (featuring a racist Jewish caricature and the caption “I did that”) on the back of a stop sign in downtown Milwaukee. After snapping a quick photo for documentation, I promptly tore it down. Anyone who hasn’t noticed the rise in antisemitism these past few years — even well before October 7th, though accelerating all the more since then — has simply not been paying attention, or has some ideological commitments that has sadly given them blinders to this issue. In any case, resisting this sort of vile bigotry against our Jewish siblings is absolutely crucial in our contemporary struggles for justice in this world.
While antisemitism has of course had a tragically long history and never fully faded in our world, this most recent wave of anti-Jewish sentiment appears as much more brazen and unapologetic than the forms that lingered in decades past (though I am sure my Jewish friends can point to instances of brazen antisemitism in any time period — this is not to downplay the persisting severity of this form of bigotry). In any case, it seems that more and more nowadays we see rhetoric that freely uses slurs and racist caricatures and calls openly for violence. As more subtle forms of antisemitism have been left unaddressed, these prejudices have been normalized and more overt forms have surfaced.
I’ve been very lucky in my life to have close relationships with a number of Jewish friends and opportunities to collaborate with Jewish communities in interfaith contexts. Of course, these have all been deeply enriching experiences and the extent to which Jewish pals have so so warmly and openly invited me to participate in their traditions and communities has been deeply instructive to me in developing my own ethics of building community and welcoming the stranger. If I could emulate only a fraction of the warmth and good will of the everyday Jewish folks I have been blessed to be in community with, I know this would bring real light into the world.
Some of my most memorable interfaith experiences in my college years were with the Jewish community. Helping to build the sukkah for Sukkot, being called upon to blow the shofar for Rosh Hashanah (I guess a French-horn-playing goy can work in a pinch if a Jewish Ba’al Tekiah isn’t available), participating in a teaching Seder, and regularly being invited to Shabbat celebrations. What gifts!
Few communities can compare with our Jewish siblings in terms of outsized intellectual, cultural, and artistic contributions to the broader human family. Theology, philosophy, mathematics, science, poetry — these would all have a very different (and depleted) shape if not for the contributions of Jewish luminaries, whose engagements with these diverse fields have so often been guided precisely by their Judaism. Of course, this sort of instrumental calculus involving a community’s “contribution” to humanity ultimately has no bearing upon how we ought to treat one another — as if these deepest interpersonal ethics operate based on some kind of economic exchange — but antisemitism seems all the more absurd in light of all the beauty and wisdom that has always flowed from the Jewish community, even as they’ve so often been violently persecuted throughout history.
In any case, I am extremely grateful for my plentiful encounters with both Jewish communities and Jewish traditions more generally, though despite this I know I am not immune from perpetuating antisemitism in various ways. When a form of bigotry such as antisemitism or anti-black racism has such a long history and becomes so intertwined with various cultural expressions, it is possible — even likely — to reproduce forms of prejudice and bias even without intention to do so. As such, it is crucial to continue listening to trusted Jewish voices so we may be more educated about how antisemitism manifests and is perpetuated so we may divest more fully from it. Intention is important, but Love demands something more than defensiveness and deflection in cases of unintended harm.
This is all the more important in the context of the movement for Palestinian liberation — one of the worst things that activists could do in advocating for the Palestinian people is to adopt or accept any sort of antisemitic rhetoric. Thankfully, in my own face-to-face experiences in this movement, at least here in Wisconsin, this has been something few and far between, and typically something which has stemmed from ignorance more than malice. I have been a very staunch critic of the Israeli state’s military campaign following the atrocities of October 7th, as well as the American state’s unwavering material and political support of this campaign. I do hope I have been able to engage in this advocacy in ways that have not caused any Jewish friends to be targeted /for their Jewishness/, and I’ve been intentional to continually update my rhetoric and the exact language I use to talk about these issues to ensure this as best as I can. I, of course, welcome any dialogue and feedback here, most especially from Jewish friends.
It is certainly complicated, as it is not fully possible to untangle the modern nation state of Israel and the ideology of Zionism from Judaism as an actually existing religion in our contemporary times. Occasionally I find insight in some of these projects (especially ones which trace the genealogies of diverse forms of and Jewish perspectives on Zionism), but very often this rhetoric that tries to full differentiate Zionism and Judaism is simply too clean and neat, no longer reflecting the actual lived experiences of Jewish people.
While I will continue to absolutely oppose the genocide perpetuated against the Palestinian people of Gaza at the hands of the Israeli state and the IDF — as well as the violent actions of settlers who are brutalizing Palestinian communities, destroying their ancestral farms, and thus reducing their ability to support themselves agriculturally and economically — I think it is important to dwell on the way that criticism of Israel can take on a certain fervor and excess that may stem from antisemitic sentiment. I do not follow the claim that all criticism of Israel or Zionism are de facto antisemitic but it’s certainly true that these forms of critique can be motivated by antisemitism or — more typical in my experience — co-opt antisemitic rhetoric to make their points. Against this, we must remain vigilant.
Theologically, I subscribe to a vision where various religious and human communities are a feature, not a bug, of our cosmos. “O humanity! We have created you male and female, and have made you nations and tribes that you may know one another.” (49:13). Through engaging with the diversity of the human community, we more fully embody our own humanity and work to fulfil the divine intention behind our inherent diversity. To recognize the intrinsic values each unique human community embodies is an ethical injunction from on high, even as this should not lead to a kind of milquetoast tolerance that avoids the real messiness of conflict in our human family. May we never lose sight of the beauty and irreducible particularity of one anothers’ communities on this earth, even in the midst of the darkest conflicts.
Even the fact that I felt a need to mention criticism of Israel in this reflection rather than letting a condemnation of antisemitism and appreciation of Jewish community and tradition stand on its own is perhaps a subtle manifestation of antisemitism — I’d certainly be annoyed with this being a perennial digression when goyim speak on these topics, as if solidarity with Jewish people must always come with a disclaimer. May we be sufficiently gentle with one another to accept shortcomings in ourselves and others and humble enough to listen to one another with open hearts.
When we endeavor to encounter these historical forms of bigotry with the intent of — hopefully — overcoming them, we are encountering a history of trauma in which we are participants. Here we have the opportunity to heal and restore the world by transfiguring our relationships with one another. However, this is not easy work. Without discernment and dedication, trauma has a natural tendency to reproduce itself. My hope, in this historical moment, is that even in the midst of the dynamics of trauma-reduplication, we may chart a new path. But this requires resilience and faith. Resilience, which may come from refuge in our traditions and communities, in addition to our relations with one another, and faith in the intrinsic value and irreducible uniqueness of each person and community. May these be our lodestars as we continually renew our dedication to opposing antisemitism and all other forms of violent bigotry with which this particular anti-Jewish form of bigotry is certainly intertwined.
