There’s a common stereotype about the American South. A nice one: people here are friendlier when compared to the rest of the country.
On the way out of Jackson, I joked around with some folks also waiting in the unusually long security line. We discussed the length of our wait, the Jackson airport, and our time in Mississippi. One of the men was on my flight to DC, and we continued chatting as we disembarked the flight.
Upon arrival in DC, I sensed a different vibe. Strolling through the area, I found myself nodding and saying hello to many random strangers I passed, just as I do when strolling through Jackson. In Jackson, people respond, smiling back, saying hello, asking how you’re doing. In the DC suburbs, I got a few nods and smiles, and also had my brother telling me to “stop being weird, Daniel. You’ve been in Mississippi too long!”
Naturally, as younger siblings are supposed to do, I did it more, just to irritate him.
Still, however, I did not get the results to which I’ve become accustomed.
After a wonderful weekend, on the way back to the airport, I spent several hours commuting to DCA by MARC train and then two separate DC metro lines. Throughout the entire ride, I only encountered a handful of smiles, nods, or friendly remarks. In fact, I’m pretty sure the only people who I had a conversation with were my friends I visited in DC. And while they might be strange, they’re not strangers to me.
However, once the airport attendant called for all the passengers going to Jackson, and we all crammed into the bus which would take us to our tiny plane, everything changed. One person made a silly comment about Mississippi rather loudly, and suddenly everyone began laughing, smiling, and chatting with random strangers. I conversed with a woman heading down to assist the Red Cross disaster relief efforts following the tornadoes. Two strangers were swapping stories about their respective trips. I made funny faces at a baby in front of me, and chatted with his mother. I’m absolutely certain that I spoke to more people on the 20 minute bus ride to the train on the tarmac than I did during the 2 hours I spent in transit to the airport.
One of the former Education Fellows, originally from New York City, had a theory: people are friendlier in Mississippi because there are simply fewer people down here. In big, busy, cities, if you stopped to chat with (or even just nod to and acknowledge!) every single person you saw while walking down the street, you would never get anywhere. In Mississippi, there are fewer people, so you can afford to take time to talk to the people you meet, you can afford to get to know them, and you can still get where you’re going a little bit early.
Alternatively, people might be friendlier because of a shared culture in Mississippi and the American South. Perhaps this shared culture brings people together and makes them friendlier. Maybe it’s just good ole’ fashioned southern hospitality. Of course, in the Jewish world, Shammai said in Pirkei Avot: “Hevei m’kabeil et kol ha-adam b’seiver panim yafot.” Receive every person with a cheerful countenance.
Sounds like Southern friendliness to me.
In any case, it’s not that big city folks are necessarily rude, but “Southern Hospitality” and general friendliness remains a true legacy…and I know for certain that I will definitely miss it when I leave, and plan to take it with me!
In the mid-nineteenth century, thousands of Jewish immigrants from Alsace-Lorraine came to America and made new lives for themselves in the Deep South. Last week, some Alsatian Jews embarked on the same journey (made much more convenient by intercontinental air travel) to learn about Jewish history and heritage in the South.
Traveling up from New Orleans, last Friday this group of 33 Jewish Alsatian tourists found themselves spending a day with ISJL staff in Jackson, Mississippi. We have worked with tour groups in the past, but never in a different language! While many of them did speak English, the group leader translated every presentation into French. Take a look at this short clip I filmed of Dr. Rockoff presenting to the group…
From our office we went on our usual tour of Jackson sites, stopping at Tougaloo College, the COFO Civil Rights Education Center and the Medgar Evers House Museum. These sites mainly focus on the events of the Civil Rights movement, so I did my best to explain how that history has shaped this region. Questions like why so many buildings were empty downtown, why students pay so much for a college education, and inquiries regarding contemporary race relations, covered huge topics that while difficult to explain easily in English, are especially challenging to explain in French, to an audience without a native understanding of American history.
The cultural exchange went both ways, as I got to hear about the French Jewish experience as well. One woman asked me about how Southerners practice Judaism, and if they still identify as Jewish if they aren’t active in a congregation. She explained that while there are many secular Jews in France, many strongly identify as racially Jewish because of their direct connection to the Holocaust. The leader told me later that a few of the visitors were hidden children during the war. I also found it interesting in discussing our ISJL education program when a few of the guests then explained to me that their children never had any formal Jewish schooling; they simply learned Jewish practices and customs in the home.
It was a great learning experience and such a wonderful opportunity to spend the day with this group. We’re happy that they chose to spend their time in our neck of the woods and I hope this post will encourage some of you with fewer oceans to travel across to make plans to join us soon for your own Southern Jewish experience!
As we approach the winter holidays, one thing will likely dominate our minds: doors.
What? Doors weren’t the first thing on your mind? Come on! We just had the ringing of doorbells on Halloween; next up is the opening of doors to family and friends on Thanksgiving; and this year, that occasion will coincide with the rededication of the Temple’s doors, as we celebrate Hanukkah (and the mash-up “Thanksgivukkah” we keep hearing about).
Understanding that doors play a central place in our secular and religious lives, as the threshold to meaning and community, I wanted to share with you something interesting that I observed while visiting Temple Emanuel in Longview, Texas. There, the mezuzot are affixed to the left side of the doors, not the right; and, they lean outward as opposed to inward.
When I asked the co-president of this Reform congregation how they got into this “unorthodox” position, I was told a fascinating story. Originally, the mezuzot were on correctly. The doors, however, were not, as they opened inwards as opposed to outwards, which is the standard for all public buildings. Thus, the congregation was forced to turn the entire door frame around.
“But, what difference does the door’s direction really make?” I wondered. Then, it hit me! In cases of emergency, the doors in a public building need to open outward as to manage the rapid flow of people exiting. Go ahead. Look around you. I promise that you’ll notice that just about all public buildings’ doors open outward.
“So, where,” you may ask, “do they open inward?”
And here is where we find a powerful message. In outward-opening doors, a public space unconsciously imparts the message of departure and exclusion; whereas, our homes – through their inward opening doors – relates welcoming and inclusion. Likely, that was the original intent behind Emanuel’s construction: to be an extension of home, wherein all would be welcomed.
So as friends and family, neighbors and strangers, get poised to go from door to door this winter holiday season, let us keep in mind that every knock is a knock of opportunity. And, whether the door opens inward or outward, let’s just be mindful to keep it open to all.