When Victims Rule. A
Critique of Jewish Pre-eminence in America
So great is
the Jewish "commercial spirit," so omnipresent, and so much part of Jewish
religious teachings themselves, that, beginning in the 19th century, many
Jews socializing into "civil" Christian society found themselves
embarrassed by the crass behavior that resounded from the Orthodox
synagogues. "There were many modern, acculturated Jews," observes Howard
Sachar, "who were increasingly repelled by the synagogue's cacophony: the
nasal singing, the selling of prayers, the gossiping of women in the
gallery, the absence of decorum." [SACHAR, p. 159]
"In Judaism," says Martin Sklare, "there is no sharp division between the
sacred and secular, and consequently little development of separate norms
in each area. This system conflicts with the Christian -- and American --
one which distinguishes between the sacred and profane, defines which
situations belong to each category, and provides for special behavior." [SKLARE]
In other words, in Orthodox Judaism everything anywhere may be "profaned;"
there is no physical sanctuary -- including a synagogue -- from the
ubiquitous prowl of economic exploits (the Sabbath -- the day of rest --
is, for the religious, the exceptions). Jay Gonen notes an old joke about
Jewish obsession with money even in religious contexts, circulated not by
Gentile anti-Semites, but by Jews in Israel:
"Two Jews,
by a miracle, find time to pause and reflect in front of a holy site,
the Wailing Wall, or the western wall of the Second Temple. One of them
notices that the other is weeping profusely over the destruction of the
Second Temple. 'Why are you crying so much?' he says, 'True, the Temple
has been destroyed, but the lot is still worth something." [GONEN, p.
27]
Jewish
comedian Joan Rivers explains materialist and ostentatious Jewish identity
this way: "I'm Jewish. If God wanted me to exercise he would've put
diamonds on the floor." [SAPOSNIK, 1998] One of Jewish comedian Milton
Berle's jokes went: "A Jewish youngster asked the boy next door to play
with him. The boy answered, 'My father says I can't play with you because
you're Jewish.' The Jewish lad answered, 'Oh, that's all right. We won't
play for money.'" [BERLE, M., 1996, p. 311] Or, "The Israelis have just
developed a brand-new car. It not only stops on a dime, it picks it up." [BERLE,
M., 1996, p. 305] And: "Why did the Israelis win the Six-Day War?"
"Because the equipment was rented." [BERLE, M., 1996, p. 305]
Another joke of the same genre circulated in the American Jewish community
runs like this:
"And then
there was the Jewish Santa Claus. He came down the chimney and said:
'Hi, kids. Want to buy some presents?'" [BLOOMFIELD, p. 29]
Another joke
even addresses manipulation of anti-materialist notions of respect in the
Gentile world towards Jewish economic advancement:
A wealthy
Boston Brahmin was on his deathbed. The end was near,
and he asked his three business partners, a Catholic, a Protestant, and
a Jew, to come to the hospital to discuss some matters pertaining to his
estate.
'You boys
know I have no family,' he began, 'so I'm dividing my
wealth among the three of you, in three equal shares. As a sign of your
good friendship, however, I would like each of you to make a token
gesture after I'm gone, by putting a thousand dollars into my coffin
before it is lowered into the ground.'
Several
days later, the funeral was conducted according to the wishes
of the deceased. At the appropriate time, the Catholic friend walked up
to the coffin and placed in it an envelope containing one thousand
dollars. The Protestant friend came forward and did likewise. Finally,
the Jew walked up to the coffin, took out the two envelopes, and
replaced them with a check for three thousand dollars." [NOVAK/
WALDOKS, 1981, p. 95]
As always in
Jewish folklore, Gentiles are -- to the wily, down-to-earth Jew -- stupid.
William Novak and Moshe Waldoks call the following joke "a favorite, found
in most collections of Jewish humor":
"A
minister, a rabbi, and a priest were discussing how they made
use of the funds in the collection plate. The minister said, 'I draw
a line on the floor, and I throw the money into the air. Everything
that lands to the right of the line is for God; everything on the left
is for me.'
'That's
pretty much what I do,' said the priest. 'But instead of
a line, I draw a circle. Everything in the circle is for God; everything
outside the circle I keep for myself.'
'I, too,
have a system,' said the rabbi, 'I take the money and throw
it up in the air, and whatever God catches He can keep." [NOVAK/
WALDOKS, 1981, p. 95]
Such
observations about Jewish values are acceptable, and common, within the
Jewish community itself but, as Jewish scholar Nancy Jo Silberman-Federman
notes, such a joke told from a Gentile would flag him or her as an
anti-Semite. She notes the self-deprecating (and/or exploitive) tone of
many Hanukkah cards sent by Jews to each other:
"[In one
case] the front of the card pictures a Jewish woman hugging
Santa. The copy reads, 'Merry Christmas! Thank goodness for
Gentiles.' The inside reads, 'Somebody has to buy retail!' If certain
jokes are told by non-Jews, both the teller and the joke would be
considered anti-Semitic ... This [celebrating of such jokes in Jewish
circles] may be seen socially as a mechanism for in-group solidarity."
[SILBERMAN-FEDERMAN, p. 220]
Whereas in
most -- if not all -- other religious faiths, adherents seek physical
refuge from the anchors of materialist concern while they pray, in
Orthodox Judaism, overt pecuniary transactions -- involving personal egos
and status assertion -- are an integral part of the traditional Jewish
religious service itself. Jewish sociologist Martin Sklare calls it
"commercialism in the synagogue." This includes "shenodering, the pledging
of money for the opportunity of participating in the Torah service ... ,
the holding of auctions during holidays and festival services for the
purpose of 'selling' certain particularly honorific privileges; by
stimulating competitive instincts, large amounts may be pledged; and the
Yom Kippur appeal: fund raising which takes place during Kol Nidre, a
particularly holy service." [SKLARE, p. 363]
To traditional Christian -- and other religious temperaments -- such
vulgarization in a "House of God" inevitably calls to mind the old
Christian story of Jesus becoming outraged at the Israelite money changers
on Temple grounds. [Matt. 21:12-13; Mark 11: 15-17; Luke 19: 45-46] What
kind of religion, non-Jews have found themselves asking through history,
is this?
In modern times, of course, to ask such a question is to attract assault
as an "anti-Semite." And, however bizarre, Jewish scholar Sara Horowitz's
comments, post Holocaust, in linking Jesus' outrage at Jewish
money-dealing in the sacred Temple to the Nazi persecution of Jewry is
typical:
"The New
Testament [has] multiple descriptions of Jews defiling the
Temple and Jesus' consequent need to purify the holy space by throwing
out the Jewish money changers ... Historically, the image of the Jewish
money changer whose presence defiles sacred space conflates with Jews
as money lender, with the typing of the Jew as materialist and
avaricious.
Jewish attachment to money over attachment to God, to nation, or to
other people is repeatedly portrayed in Nazi propaganda newsreels and
feature films." [HOROWTIZ, p. 125]
But even when
the Zionist "father" of modern Israel, Theodore Herzl, visited (in the
late 19th century) the famed Jerusalem Wailing Wall, the supposed last
remaining edifice of the ancient Temple itself, so revered in Jewish
religious tradition and a magnet to Jewish pilgrims, he could only write
with disdain that "we have been to the Wailing Wall. A deeper emotion
refused to come, because that place is pervaded by a hideous, wretched,
speculative beggary." [HERZL, in PATAI, p. 746-747]
Isaac Baer Levinsohn describes the Eastern European synagogue of the
nineteenth century:
"Each ...
synagogue abides by ... only general disorder ... This [person]
jumps while another shouts; this one moans his loss while another one
complacently smokes ... One has just begun his prayer as another has
finished it ... this one jokes and pulls another by the ear. Quarrels
and fisticuffs often ensue about private as well as public matters ...
One aspires to be the sixth to come up to the Torah, another seeks the
honor of taking the Torah out of the Ark and often they quarrel on that
account." [SACHAR, p. 217]
As many Jews,
leaving their ghettos and Orthodox Judaism in the 19th century attuned
themselves to surrounding Christian "civil" society, many became concerned
about "embarrassing solicitations" in the synagogue. One American
Conservative Judaism publication even chastised its community, saying:
"There is
no charitable expression in the English language that can connote the
desecration of a Torah honor and the degradation of a House of Worship
into a market place of vulgar vanities and rude commercialism." [SKLARE,
p. 363]
Sklare
describes Orthodox religious gatherings:
"The
Orthodox shul with the accompanying multitudinous prayers, jams of
people and children, all joined together in a cacophonous symphony of
loud and sometimes raucous appeals to the Almighty." [SKLARE, p.
372]
"The Orthodox
synagogue," says James Yaffe, "seemed [to Reform-minded Jews] dirty,
shabby, unruly, un-American." [YAFFE, J., 1968, p. 98] Conversely, even
today in America, notes Solomon Poll,
"the
Hasidim [ultra-Orthodox Jews] noticed the great tendency to imitate the
non-Jews. Jewish weddings had bridal processions. The groom was led in
by his own parents; the rabbi also participated in the bridal
procession; ushers attended the ceremony; the rabbi made a speech during
the ceremony; pictures were taken -- many times, movies. All these
appeared to the Hasidim as mockeries and imitation of the goyim to which
they vehemently objected." [POLL, 1969, p. 41]
Martin Sklare
notes that one of the major affectations in the creation of the modern
Conservative Judaism movement was a change toward "decorum." In Orthodox
Judaism, he notes, "should a worshipper consistently adopt what would
generally be considered a reverent demeanor ... his deportment might well
be the subject of intense criticism ... The form of Orthodox worship does
seem to be almost unique in its lack of solemnity." [SKLARE, p. 361]
Although, "when I was a boy," says Earl Shorris, "I was told that the
reason why there was no musical instruments in the synagogue was that we
were mourning the destruction of the Temple in Jerusalem." [SHORRIS, E.,
1982, p. 89]
The novelist Herman Wouk wrote with fondness about his memories of
Orthodox synagogue culture brought to America with Jews from Eastern
Europe:
Calls to
the Torah, opening of the Ark, and so forth, all went
for a price. The auctions were colorful and exciting enough,
but the mood of prayer naturally vanished while they went on.
They were often pretty long. During the reading of the Torah,
moreover, it became the practice of each man, as he was called
to his aliya, or reading turn, to announced his contribution
to the synagogue's many charities. For each announcement
he or his family received a public blessing by the shamas. Again
this was a process of high economic value, but not attuned to
the thoughts of the higher world ...
They
enabled many tiny congregations to survive and grow
into majestic congregations and fashionable temples. With the
prospering of the Jewish community, these devices of
desperation have gradually given way to conventional fund
raising.
'Five
dollars for the third reading!' Nor do I want to forget the
historic auction one Yom Kippur afternoon nearly forty years
ago, in a synagogue in a Bronx cellar, when my father outbid
men with far more money (though they were all poor struggling
immigrants) for the reading of the Book of Jonah ... These
auctions are a thing of the past and it is better so, but they served
a purpose. Children in such synagogues learned unmistakably
what a precious thing a call to the Torah was."
[WOUK, p. 123-125]
The value of
the Torah would seem to suggest a price tag. Auctioning off the rights to
recite prayers and announcing in public, each in turn, individuals'
charitable contributions reveals a lot more about Jewish merchant culture
-- and its pressures, struggles for community status, and symbiotic
religious dogma -- than it does anything remotely spiritual. Wouk's fond
memories for all the big bills flying around the Torah in his synagogue
(albeit for religious intention) reflect a nakedly material concern. Such
activity reaffirms what the Torah was largely intended as: recipes, rules,
and regulations for Jewish self-advancement in a hostile political world,
or -- as apologists like to frame it -- communal survival through the
centuries. Wouk's childhood memories of high auction recitation prices
confirming the Torah's value are obviously rooted in pride for his father
and his status as an economic victor, as well as a general fascination
with the wheeling and dealing of a street bazaar. Even the synagogue could
function as a forum to celebrate human vanity in one's ability to pay for
something, in this case the right to recite sacred texts. (Synagogue
members have even been sued in recent years for not paying membership
dues. In Rockaway, New York, for example, in 2001 David Slossberg and
three others were sued for back payment by the White Meadow Temple.) [GOLDWERT,
M., 1-5-01] "Conspicuous charity," wrote Judith Kramer and Seymour
Levantman about the Jewish American community in 1961, "is less a matter
of religious or ideological commitment than a conventional social
obligation serving as a source of status." [KRAMER, p. 101]
Anthony Polonsky notes the Jewish tradition of "ostentatious generosity"
in seventeenth century Poland:
"Was this
piety on the part of a few rich individuals shared by all Jews? To
answer this question clearly, one must study the religious attitudes of
the time. It seems that participation in services was motivated more by
a desire to shine in public than by profound faith. If previously a
synagogue seat was a sign of respectability in the community, now
unfortunately they were being sold. Indeed, the practice of buying
seats, backed by a deed of sale became common." [POLONSKY, p. 59]
For an
Eastern European Jewish community ever fixated upon worldly accomplishment
and the hierarchical status of respective members, even in their most holy
religious center "the prosteh yidh [common Jews] sat at the back of the
synagogue." [ZBOROWSKI, p. 74]
In the late
1950s the American Jewish poet, d. a. levy, wrote:
My father
and i
went to a temple to hear
the services
sat down in time
to hear the haunting
language for just a moment
when someone told us we had to stand in the
back - we had chosen 'reserved seats'
seats that had been paid for
we left and it was there i completed
my external jewish education [PORTER, p. 126]
As James
Yaffe observed in 1968:
"The
synagogue charges no admissions fee to services, except on High Holy
Day, Yom Kippur and Rosh Hoshanah, when everybody comes to worship. Then
most synagogues require worshipers to buy tickets, and many sell
reserved seats; the closer to the altar, the higher the price ...
'Passing the plate' is not a custom in the synagogue. Sometimes a plain
white envelope is left on the worshiper's seat. Inside he finds a slip
of paper with his name on it, and a list of suggested contributions,
from twenty dollars up; he will put a check next to the amount her
prefers, and slip the piece of paper back into the envelope. In
old-fashioned Orthodox synagogues the method is often less
decorous; the rabbi reads out the member's names, and each man is
expected to call out how much he intends to give." [YAFFE, J., 1968, p.
154]
Jewish
student Silja Talvi complains about this Jewish tradition of charging
steep admission to the most sacred of Jewish holy days (she blames
"capitalism" for this custom, however, and rationalizes that the high
prices are somehow useful in keeping "psychopathic anti-Semites" out of
synagogues):
"It is not
a stretch to surmise that many more established synagogues have
taken their cues from the capitalist economy that surrounds them, having
arrived at the point of valuing finances about kehilla [community]. For
all
this kvetching about all the lost, unaffiliated Jews, how many among the
country's mainstream Jewish religious leadership have stopped to think
about dropping cost-prohibitive barriers to getting in through the front
door? ... In this regard, Jewish religious institutions would do well to
take inspiration from the Lubavitchers and Christian churches alike:
Free
admission, fundraising drives and donation baskets have a certain
logical and friendly appeal, especially for those unaffiliated,
lower-income
Jews who have reason to feel uneasy about spending close to $100 to be
allowed a seat at a temple to spend the day or evening in prayer.
Non-Jews who have overheard me in conversation about the fees involved
in obtaining tickets for Jewish holiday services have expressed
confusion at the very existence of fee schedules and entrance tickets.
The tickets, I explain, are a necessary and common-sense precaution for
Jewish institutions that hope to make it more difficult for psychopathic
anti-Semites to walk through their doors. But why the high cost, they
ask? For once, I don't have a good answer." [TALVI, S., 2001]
Convert to
Judaism Lydia Kukoffmn explains the Jewish idea of "paying to pray" like
this:
"I remember
how put off I was at the thought of tickets for religious services. It
was so foreign to my way of thinking. Over the years, however, I have
come to realize that, although I may still resist the idea of paying to
pray, it is the one time of the year when the temple is able to assure
its continuity, and thereby its potential for service to its members." [KUKOFF,
L., 1981, p. 84-65]
There are
even Jewish jokes about such materialism in the synagogue:
"It is Yom
Kippur. A man comes to the synagogue in a state of obvious
excitement. The usher is at the door looking at admission tickets. As
the
man tries to walk in, the usher stops him: 'Let's see your ticket.'
'I don't
have a ticket. I just want to see my brother, Abe Teitelbaum.
I have an important message for him.
'A likely
story. There's always someone like you, trying to sneak in
in for the High Holy Day services. Forget it, friend. Try somewhere
else.'
'Honest. I
swear to you. I have to tell my brother something. You'll
see. I'll only be a minute.'
The usher
gave him a long look. 'All right,' he says, 'I'll give you the
benefit of the doubt. You can go in. But don't let me catch you
praying!"
[SILBIGER, S., 2000, p. 44]
Paul Cowan
recalls the synagogue memories of his father (former CBS-TV president Lew
Cowan):
Once, when
I was a boy, my father told me that he recalled the Yom Kippurs he went
to synagogue and watched Jake Cohen [Lew's father] weep and beat his
breast to atone for his sins. Then, after services, Lou would walk home
with his parents and the rest of the huge Cohen clan and listen,
appalled, as they fought over status and money; as they gossiped cruelly
about siblings who weren't there. That wasn't religion, my father would
tell me angrily. That was hypocrisy." [COWAN, P., 1982, p. 6]
In 1982, Earl
Shorris recalled his childhood memories of the kinds of men who headed his
synagogue:
"We arrived
at the synagogue as a family, three generations led by my grandfather
... My grandfather spoke to his friend Eddie -- Big Eddie, he called
him. They spoke as members of the board of directors of the synagogue,
important men, big donors. My grandfather earned his money from the
labor of Italian and Polish women who sewed clothing in his factories.
Big Eddie sold cheap wine and whiskey to the poor of the town. We did
not approve of Big Eddie. His diamond ring and his fat cigar offended us
... [H]is business offended us. There were fights in front
of his store, stabbings, more than one killing. There were rumors about
him. Some people said he dealt with criminals. It as said that he gave
so much to the synagogue to atone for the way he made his money ... He
traded donations for a position as a director of the synagogue. My
grandfather said Eddie wanted to be president, that he was willing to
donate a community center if the directors would elect him president
.... [SHORRIS, E., 1982, p. 3-4] [When Big Eddie finally strode up at
the synagogue to be so honored, "the man our community commended to God"
(p.7)] the color of his flesh was as rich and vulgar as his suit.
[Grandfather,] you were so small, so pale beside him. Jerusalem was
conquered, the Temple was destroyed, and there was no prophet in all of
Israel. After the service I asked my father why it had happened. Money,
was all he said. Sometimes you have to do these things, my grandfather
added. A building doesn't come cheap." [SHORRIS, E., 1982, p.7]
Jewish pride
and concern for status and material affluence has a long history. There is
a Yiddish word for it: yicchus, which connotes the
traditional Jewish importance of personal and familial prestige, status,
and a respected reputation in the community. This yicchus could be
obtained for parents by their children's marriage to a spouse of higher
standing. But yicchus could be lost too, for instance, by stooping to
manual labor. [ZBOROWSKI, p. 78]
The Importance of Yicchus ~ (Status) - Part 1 ||
The Importance of Yicchus ~ (Status) - Part 2 ||
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