It’s happened twice in the last four years: I’ve been in the middle of a lovely conversation with someone, and the “accidental slur” popped out: Jewing someone down.
Now, these two conversations were both with different people. Both of these individuals know I am Jewish, and both of them care deeply about me and have a definite respect for Judaism. So why would they say this? Well, they just didn’t know any better … but the real question each time, after someone said it to me, immediately became: what should I do?
They were very different situations, and very different people: one was my 30-something hairdresser. The accidental slur came up when he was sharing a story about buying a horse. Then, there it was: the slur.
I had been going to him for several years at the time, and my mind began reeling as he said it, knowing he meant no malice but… what to do about it?
The next case was when I met a delightful 70-something woman. It was our first meeting, but she also knew I was Jewish and had no malice in her heart for Judaism, or for me. I admired a sculpture in her home, and she then told me the story of how her deceased husband, um … effectively bargained to get it. (The slur again!)
In the first case, with the young hairdresser, I decided that for both our sakes, I needed to point out what he said. I explained that had I been a new customer, I never would have come back, but because I knew him well by now, and knew his heart and knew it was unintentional. I thought it better to explain why the “good old boy” expression was offensive. It was a good move, and he was grateful.
In the second case, although the friend I was with nearly had a coronary on the spot when he heard the older woman’s use of the slur, I silently waved him off. I quickly decided that if I were to share with her how the slur is offensive, it would have caused her great shame and humiliation, so my decision was to simply let it go.
Living in the South, or anywhere where Jews are true minority, these situations can provide quite the dilemma. How would you have handled these or other similar situations?
We hear a lot about “interfaith” and “outreach” programming. In fact, I spend a lot of my time promoting it. But why does it matter? If it might lead to some difficult conversations and such – why bother?
Well, my experiences not only as a director of programming, but also as a proud New Orleans native, have shaped my understanding of the value and vital need for these sorts of efforts.
“….Temple Sinai is a house of prayer for all people and all who enter our doors in the spirit of brotherhood and sisterhood are always welcome and that includes the members of Greater St. Stephens Ministries.”
These words were spoken by Rabbi Edward Cohn. Since becoming the Rabbi of Temple Sinai in New Orleans 25 years ago, Rabbi Cohn has made interfaith and outreach programming a priority for the congregation. His efforts have led to a strong New Orleans Interfaith clergy group which meets on a regular basis to discuss theological, ethical and political issues as well as forming strong bonds of friendship which have served all of these congregations well. Often times, our opinions or convictions may conflict, but there is always respect and love. In times of celebration and in times of tragedy, these congregations have stood with each other side by side.
In fact, when the Greater St. Stephens Baptist Church burned down, Rabbi Cohn reached out to Bishop Paul Morton and Senior Pastor Debra Morton and offered the Temple Sinai sanctuary as a … sanctuary!
I attended several of the services to see what it was like while the St. Stephens congregation was worshiping in my synagogue. Sitting in the back of that 1,100 seat-sanctuary (completely filled twice each Sunday while they were there), I was blown away by the full Gospel choir and the spirit. Whatever your faith, God was in that place, and I knew it.
That’s why interfaith and outreach programming matters. Because in times of triumph, and in times of trial, it enables us to be better neighbors and experience modern miracles … like when the trial becomes the triumph, and two communities can share one sacred space.
What has been your very best interfaith experience?
Hurricane Katrina (and the man-made disaster of the levee breaks) struck Louisiana and Mississippi seven years ago today, with devastating effects. Now as the region prepares for Hurricane Isaac, we also remember Katrina.
In 2005, when Katrina struck, I was still living in the New Orleans area. The city and her surrounding suburbs were all affected. The Jewish community felt the wrath of the storm – particularly the Modern Orthodox synagogue, Beth Israel, which was destroyed.
At that time, I was Executive Vice President of Temple Sinai in New Orleans. As a practicing Reform Jew, I had become involved with the local Federation, but, until then, I had not thought much about how our small Orthodox congregation benefited the whole Jewish community. In the aftermath of the storm, every congregation, including mine, reached out to them to provide temporary worship space until they could figure out what to do next. I found myself thinking about the interdependence of New Orlean’s Jewish community. and wondering how the loss of Beth Israel Congregation would affect the rest of our largely Reform contingent.
After Katrina it quickly became apparent that the Jewish community would either come together and survive as a whole or fall apart in individual efforts. Nearly a quarter of local Jews permanently relocated in the months after the storm. Those who remained had to embrace pluralism in a whole new way. We needed each other to survive and thrive as a Jewish community.
Under the leadership of Rabbi Robert Loewy, Metairie Reform congregation Gates of Prayer and Beth Israel formed a historical partnership, with the Orthodox congregation meeting in the Reform synagogue for the last seven years, until this past weekend. Shared space, increased understanding and partnership between the two congregations taught the entire Jewish world the importance of community.
But why does a city need a full range of Jewish observance? If it wasn’t for the Orthodox community, there would be no community day school. Without a community day school, the Reform and Conservative congregations would never have been able to attract the current roster of Rabbis, Cantors and Educators who moved to the New Orleans area since Katrina. Congregation Beth Israel also brought the amazing Rabbi Uri Topolosky, an asset to the whole city who moved to New Orleans in 2007, and has led the congregation’s rebirth.
Of course, benefits go both ways. Without the Reform and Conservative Jews in the city purposefully patronizing the two Kosher restaurants in town, they would not be able to stay in business in order to serve the Orthodox Jews (and many Reform and Conservative Jews) who keep Kosher. And our efforts to reach out to the greater community are strengthened by our partnerships in the larger Jewish Federation.
In order to maintain a thriving Jewish community and give back to the city as a whole, we need each other; we are absolutely interdependent.
In August of 2010, I was privileged to attend the ground breaking ceremony of Congregation Beth Israel. After sharing a space amicably, Congregation Gates of Prayer sold a parcel of their land to Beth Israel to build their new synagogue and permanent home.
Last weekend, Nes Gadol Hayah Sham (a great miracle happened there)! After seven long years in the lovely wilderness of Gates of Prayer, Beth Israel joyfully paraded its five Torah scrolls out of the temporary space and into the Ark of their very own synagogue. Dignitaries from federal, state and local government, along with well-wishers from the entire community were invited to be a part of that glorious day. Yes, it was the seventh anniversary of hurricane Katrina, but much more importantly, it was the first day for Beth Israel in their own home once again.
While the congregations are now in separate buildings, they made a conscious decision to share the children’s’ play yard, so this generation and the next will never wonder quietly to themselves, “Why are the other ones important to me and the world around me?”
They will already know.