Those quoting little bits of the 12th Century while missing out on the rather more significant “What happened next . . . .” might be a little more careful in the use of declamatory style and advice to others.
Oh dear, probably should get back to my elevated status and usury in case the goyim find themselves letting up on the resentment.
Years ago I lived for a year in a college town with my young family. We made friends with a Jewish family from Israel living in the apartment complex who were in this country on sabbatical leave, studying engineering. They were atheists. They said religious belief or lack of it did not have anytihng to do with being Jewish. They mocked religious Jews and the more observant the Jew the more ridicule and disdain was expressed. I felt sorry for them. They despised their own people and fellow Israeli citizens.
Around that same period on a hot summer night I was with my young family at an ice cream shop in a small town in New Hampshire where Hassidic Jews from Brooklyn went for summer vacation. The men and women were distinctive in their appearance. The men, even on hot summer days dressed all in black with long black coats and broad fur hats. The women shaved their heads and wore wigs. They refused to speak with or acknowledge non-Jews. As we sat enjoying the beautiful sunset and ice cream cones, one of the Jewish ladies walked past us and looked at my family with a look of disgust I could not explain. I felt sorry for these people deliberately closed in on themselves and isolated from contact with other people.
Prior to this, growing up in NYC a good friend of mine fell in love with a Jewish girl. They wanted to get married. Her family took her to a grave in a cemetary that was her own. They told her that if she married Bill she would be dead to them, they would never speak with her again, and she would be as if she never existed.
She broke the relationship. I felt sorry for them both.
I grew up in a mixed neighborhood. There were different nationalities and religions. We all got truly along exceptionally well. We played together games in the street, had birthday parties in one another’s homes and did all of the normal kid stuff kids do growing up. It seemed very healthy. In high school I had Jewish friends and as we got to know one another better I was shocked to learn that they believed I hated them. He told me everyone hated Jews. I learned this from a boy who was very popular and elected the class president, while Jews made up less than ten percent of the students. There was nothing I could do to convince him that I did not hate him. I was very upset and went back to my neighborhood to tell a Jewish girl I grew up with since we were in diapers who lived three doors away what happened, hoping to get advice from Sandy on what to do about this crazy situation. Her big sister had a crush on me for awhile. These were really nice girls. I still have affection and good memories of them. Sandy explained that she did not think I hated her and her sister, or Jews in general, but that we did not like them, because they were Jews. There was again nothing I could do to persuade her of my true sentiments. I felt sorry for both of us, but mainly her. Now I know that my sentiment for my childhood friends was really love and it remains.
I don’t know what a Jew is. Is it the atheist Israeli, the isolated Hasid, the child I grew up with? It is all of them, but what is it that defines them as Jewish, what common factors are there, other than dna? How is it possible to have more than a vague idea of what it is to be a Jew, even for someone who is Jewish?
When I see your “oh dear” sarcasm and cynicism, it reminds me of Sandy and my high school buddy, convinced they were despised, although they were sincere and not sarcastic. It also reminds me of the woman who gave my family the dirty look. I am sorry for how things are, but they are how they are and I have learned I can not change them.
