Facing Antisemitism Together

Humanity evolved in a tribal setting. This seems natural; families would stick together and support one another, and a few families would band together for mutual protection and sustenance (hunting, gathering, farming). But good spots with adequate water and fertile land will support only so many people. This is not unique to our species; as we know, for example, bees will breed a new queen and a group will swarm to form a new colony when the resources in their existing hive become insufficient.

As self-aware creatures, we built a complex society. But this didn’t eradicate our long-honed instinctive fears and reactions. The “insider/outsider” mentality remains; the “other” represents DANGER! A threat to the land and the water access that we have earmarked as our own! At the same time, people came to realize that the gene pool had to be broadened and replenished in order to remain strong, so people from different tribes intermarried (often with the woman relocating to the land controlled by the man). Marriages were also arranged for political gain – cementing treaties between two different tribes, for instance.

Thus, it is natural for people to be suspicious of those who differ from themselves. These differences include visible physical characteristics (such as skin color), cultural characteristics (such as religion), and social characteristics (such as political orientation). My group and I have it right. You differ from us; you are other, and you represent a threat to our way of life. Sadly, we’ve added a wrinkle: If you are different from us, then you are necessarily lesser than we are as people.

I just went through a fascinating training with Bend the Arc, designed for Jewish clergy who stand before congregations, guiding them through times of overt antisemitism. The facilitators urged us to discourage any descriptions of antisemitism that tend to make it sound organic – for example, water metaphors (there is a rising tide of antisemitism; antisemitism ebbs and flows) or disease metaphors (there are different strains of antisemitism; X is spreading antisemitism).

Instead, we were urged to view antisemitism as a tool in the hands of a person or group – used consciously for a deliberate purpose, as a machine of sorts. Hatred targeting any minority group is often used as a deflection: Things are going badly, it’s too difficult to fix them (or would be too unpopular because we’d have to raise taxes to get the funds to do so), so let’s blame this group of ‘outsiders’ instead. It’s easier. A smokescreen, a scapegoat. This is no less true in vilifying blacks, or Muslims, or immigrants, or LGBTQ people – or Democrats, or Republicans – than it is with Jews.

If we can recognize that antisemitism is “part of the machinery of division and fear created and used for specific material or political gain” (from Bend the Arc’s Dismantling Antisemitism Message Guide), our perspective shifts. Suddenly, we perceive that all such hatred directed at minority groups is a weapon, wielded by the people who benefit from its use, often white nationalist or authoritarian regimes. Its use is purposeful. It is not organic. It is not fated to endure forever. It is something that we can stop and dismantle.

Instead of seeing antisemitism as coming in waves that wash over us as we stand helpless, we can now say, “Politicians who rely on division and fear for their power use antisemitism to achieve their own ends. They consciously wish to generate fear and divide us against one another. It is they who benefit from the discord they have sown, not any of the people in the now-divided groups of citizens.”

What struck me most during the training was the realization that our congregation is already aligned with their suggested approach. We cannot lie to one another – “You are safe. Nothing will ever happen to you or to your loved ones” or “There isn’t any real danger. It’s just a fear that you’ve built up in your head.” What we CAN do is bond together as a community. Emphasize our solidarity. We have each other’s backs. Nobody is standing alone against a hostile world. Everybody who wants to be part of our community belongs there fully – has a seat in the congregation – should never feel excluded because of any characteristics or beliefs that make that person differ from the majority in the room. And this is true whether we’re thinking about Israel and Palestine or whether we’re thinking about politics in the United States. We harp on this reality month after month, and it turns out that this is the recommended way to support one another as we stand shoulder-to-shoulder fighting the vicious machines of antisemitism, racism, and all of the other divisive tactics used by various groups who want to attain or retain power. We can hold each other up and face these machines together. And we will continue to do so.