That Whole Jewish Thing...

I was frankly wondering if and/or when I would have to confront antisemitism down here. Last Saturday, on the 16th hole of the Hidden Creek Golf Club I was given the opportunity. Warning: this blog entry is not one of the funny ones.

First some “deep” background.

I'm not a religious person. Religion was more or less forced on me when I was a child. Like many of the other Jewish kids in Dorchester/Mattapan, I attended Hebrew School for six years every Monday through Thursday after school and again on Sunday mornings. It was a weird Hebrew language cum Old Testament curriculum. On Saturday mornings I attended children's services. That was a whole lot of time and effort devoted to making me religious. Sadly, it didn't take. Even the enticement of Charleston Chews was not enough to make me want to attend services.

But don't get me wrong. Despite my disdain for the divisiveness of most organized religions, I'm extremely proud to be Jewish. I love the Jewish tradition of philanthropy and the bravery and heart of Israel. I enjoy the food and the comedians. When Ada passed, I had to find a Rabbi to officiate since I had no affiliation with any synagogue. Rabbi Edward Boraz of the Roth Center at Dartmouth proved to be the kind of decent, compassionate clergyman who would be a credit to any denomination. His gentle, consoling words will never be forgotten by our family.

So I'm not one of those sad, self-loathing, antisemitic Jews. I've never hidden my religious background; nor have I flaunted it. Ada and I never felt the need, as some Jewish people do, to live and/or work among other Jewish people. We just didn't care about having that kind of security or protection. We made our home in Hanover, MA, which had very few Jewish families, as did our respective school systems. We raised Josh and Matt in a "Jewish-lite" kind of way, allowing each of them to decide for himself how much to get involved in religion. We retired to Grantham, NH, not exactly the Borscht Belt. Frankly, our religion or lack of it just didn't come up very often. We did our jobs, raised our kids, made our friends, and lived our lives. Our religion just wasn't a big part of the picture.

This next part is a little tough for me to write. Over the years I experienced a handful of antisemitic incidents. Perhaps incidents is the wrong word; they were more like moments. They were in the category of offhand remarks, not overtly confrontational. They never involved friends, just acquaintances of the time. Frankly, I'm fuzzy on the details, but they were situations when I should have spoken up but didn't. I've been chronically non-confrontational most of my life and simply decided that I wouldn't “make a big thing” out of it. Like countless Jewish people before me, I simply swallowed my anger and embarrassment, and decided to move on, grateful to have discovered something about the ignorami in question before I had really befriended them. I'm not at all proud of this approach or this desire to just get along, but there it is.

All of which brings us to the 16th tee at the Hidden Creek Golf Club last Saturday. I was in a foursome that had been thrown together. None of us had met any of the others before. We were having a good round, each of us experiencing both triumph and tragedy on the course. The conversation was pleasant and typical of the surroundings. At some point one of the foursome revealed that he had spent many years working homicides in Miami, certainly not your average occupation. He told us the story of a mob lawyer he knew who was blown up in his car when his clients felt he hadn't done a very good job defending one of them. The lawyer had a Jewish name.

This revelation prompted one of the other members of the foursome, we'll call him Pete, to say the following: “There's nothing Jews won't do for money.”

So there it was, the classic antisemitic stereotype. Obviously, I had a choice to make: confront it or ignore it. I decided quickly to confront it. Why confront it now when I might have ignored it in the past? I've been asking myself that these last few days. I'm quite sure that witnessing Ada's brave and beautiful struggle had something to do with my decision. After seeing what Ada courageously took on, how could I ever back away from a legitimate confrontation? I'm also quite sure that recent conversations I've had with Kate, conversations about her willingness to confront someone when she felt wronged in some way, helped me make my decision.I thought about the example I would want to set for my children and grandchildren. In the end, there really was no choice but to confront Pete. Believe me, I'm not trying to make myself sound like a hero; I don't see anything heroic in simply letting people know where you stand. It's just that this represents a new and long overdue "approach" for me.

I said, “Pete, I'm Jewish and that's about the most ridiculous thing I ever heard.”

“You're Jewish? You've got to be kidding.”

“No. I'm Jewish and very proud to be.”

He seemed a bit nonplussed and mumbled something about Christ and the fact that the Holocaust showed that Jews weren't willing to fight for their own survival. Frankly, what he said was so illogical and ridiculous I was momentarily speechless.

There was kind of an awkward silence, at which point he said, “Hey, man, you're not taking me seriously, are you?”

As a lifelong jester, I know when someone is serious and when he isn't. Pete had been serious when he said those things, but was now backtracking to try and end this unpleasant interlude. I told him that yes, I was taking the very ridiculous and absurd things he was saying seriously, but if he says he was joking, then I would just have to assume that he had a very strange and bizarre sense of humor.

And that was that. He apologized and offered his hand. I shook it. After the round was over, he approached me and hugged me.

Obviously I could have drawn the confrontation out. Maybe I should have. But to what end? Was I going to be able to convince Pete that the Jewish stereotypes he grew up with and still chose to believe were false? I doubt that anything I could have said or argued would have had any lasting effect. No, I decided that it was enough for me to have declared myself a proud member of a proud people and just leave Pete to his ignorant beliefs.

One of the other two players quietly told me how ridiculous he felt Pete was. I thanked him, but was disappointed he hadn't spoken up publicly. The other player said nothing, which may indicate something and may not. After all, in the past that might have been my choice also.

So what does all this mean? Probably not much in the grand scheme of things. Are there any more people like Pete down here? Certainly. Are any of them golfers at my club? Probably. Are there lots of fair-minded people here as well? Of course. In other words Navarre, FL is just like anyplace else you could name; it is inhabited mostly by kind, decent people and, to a lesser degree, by jerks. I'll draw my own conclusions as I interact with them one by one.

And when the jerks say something ignorant, I promise to offer up a challenge. I will never again allow someone to say something offensive or hurtful in my presence without making sure he or she knows where I stand.

Life is too short for needless bickering. It is also too short for laying down when the situation calls for standing up. You just never know where your odyssey will take you.

I can feel Ada nodding.

Much love,
J