Today's high speed travel and sophisticated means of
communication has put people from all over the globe in
contact with each other. There was a time, not so long ago,
when people felt connected only to those who lived in their
immediate vicinity, be it a city, town or isolated small
community deep inside a forest.
People who were born in one village might have lived their
entire lives, died and been buried all within the space of a
couple of miles. Their experiences were limited and their
contacts with the outside world were few and far between.
Maybe a peddler or a traveler would occasionally pass
through, or perhaps an itinerant maggid would visit
just long enough to give one resounding sermon per year.
Aside from that, the villagers were pretty much on their
own.
Now the world has telescoped. We can pick up a newspaper and
see pictures of a hurricane or tornado that has just taken
place halfway around the world and we can feel the pain of
those who were most affected by the destruction. The
expression used to describe closeness to people we have never
and probably will never meet is `global village.'
It is a nice title. It makes people feel warm and cozy.
However, as Jews, we shouldn't get too excited about the
idea.
When my maternal grandmther was a child, only those Jewish
people who had professions or successful businesses which
benefited the non-Jewish community were allowed to live in
the city of Kiev and these Jews were subject to frequent
pogroms. No one felt safe.
Jews lived in the Ukraine, but they were not Ukrainians. They
were constantly aware that they were outsiders. Similarly, my
father was born and lived in a shtetl in Poland until
shortly after his first year of cheder. He remembered
that the Poles in his town shared a lot of camaraderie with
each other. They would get together and drink and then they
would turn on the Jews. The Jews were very much aware that
although they lived in the village, they were most assuredly
not villagers. They were Jews.
It made no difference if the Jew was a talmid chochom
who spent his days sitting over a Gemora, or if he was
a butcher or blacksmith. All Jews were outsiders. It was a
fact of life.
Along came the so-called Enlightenment and, in the early part
of the 20th century, some Eastern European Jews followed
their Western brothers and started to dress, act and live
much the same way as their neighbors. Some even began to
honestly believe that they had become `villagers.'
Then came W.W.II, with its deadly wake-up call. For some of
these people, the saddest day of their lives was when their
`best friend' or next door neighbor turned them in for
deportation, far from `their' village.
During the recent U.S. elections, the candidates were vying
for the `Jewish vote.' It's funny. Some Americans stand out
in a crowd because they are blond or tall but no one talks
about the blond vote or the tall vote. This is because these
people fall within the umbrella group of Americans. It should
make some people a little uncomfortable that election
watchers single Jews out, not as fellow Americans, but as
Jews.
This week's parsha teaches about our relationship with
non-Jews and the nature of anti-Semitism. Commentaries tell
us that at times, the nations of the world act as brothers
and we assimilate with them, and then they turn upon us and
reveal themselves as our enemy Eisov.
A survey taken in the late 1980s in the U.S., by a secular
Jewish organization, revealed that the vast majority of
secular American Jews celebrated two Jewish holidays: Chanuka
and Passover. A much smaller group related to the Tishrei
Holy Days and a pitifully small number connected to
Shavuos.
Chanuka's popularity was attributed to the `December Dilemma'
wherein secular Jews felt compelled to do something Jewish at
the time that their neighbors were celebrating their December
holiday, and similarly to the spring holiday that fell at
Pesach time.
Sadly, in the decades since, American Jews have assimilated
more, intermarried more and are even less connected to
Judaism and Jewish holidays than before. They have made every
effort to stand up and shout, "Look at me. I am a true member
of your global village."
And what has been the reaction? Last year, Americans were
given a film version in English of the `passion play' that
was used for centuries to stir up violently anti-Semitic
feelings in Germany! Action: assimilation. Reaction: anti-
Semitism. The same story has been repeated throughout
history.
We in the chareidi community, who every year at this time
open up Parshas Vayishlach and read about our brother Eisov,
could have told them. We could have warned them. But they
wouldn't have listened. They were too busy setting down roots
and "establishing themselves" in what they considered their
part of the global village.
There is something that we can do to help our brothers and
sisters who have estranged themselves from their true roots.
We can use the same technological tools that have created the
global village concept to increase our outreach efforts to
our assimilated brothers and sisters.
When I was a child, a long distance phone call was so
expensive that it was only used for dire emergencies. Today,
the phone companies are climbing all over each other to offer
the cheapest service and it is truly inexpensive.
Do you have a nonobservant friend or relative somewhere in
the world? Call and keep in touch. Set up a time to learn a
Jewish text together. During the learning, hope to field
questions about Judaism that are unrelated to the text.
Respond respectfully and answer as well as you can. If you
don't know, say, "That's a good question," and offer to do
some research.
Little by little, you can bring your friend closer.
Hopefully, s/he will finally be motivated to move out of the
global village and join us in the global shtetl.
