Welcome to the American Jewish Committee's home in New York. This isn't mere “ethnic panic.” No, “lethal anti-Semitism” is on the rise, even in places long thought to be safe, noted Gabriel Schoenfeld, senior editor at Commentary magazine.
This will not be an ordinary Passover.
“More synagogues have been destroyed in France in the past five years by acts of desecration … than were destroyed in the entire period of the Nazi occupation,” he said, speaking at the Ethics and Public Policy Center in Washington, D.C. Also, “we have the chief rabbi of France issuing a warning to French Jews not to wear garb that identifies them as Jews — no skullcaps, stars of David and so forth.”
These are not ordinary times for families to share the rituals that incarnate Jewish identity. Passover begins [today] at sundown and, once again, the Seder meals that are the heart of the weeklong season will blend lessons from the past with today's trials.
As always, children will ask: “Why is this night different from all other nights?” They will ask symbolic questions about why they are eating matzoh, dipping bitter herbs and reclining at the table. They will learn about escaping from slavery in Egypt and the birth of the Jewish people.
It is a time for questions and, this year, friends and family of the late journalist Daniel Pearl believe these rites should include one more. It would be addressed to “each person at the Seder and it could be worded like this: On this night, at this time in our history, what does it mean to you to say, 'I am Jewish,' ” said Stuart Matlins, who organized a tribute book with precisely that title.
Just before he was beheaded by Islamic radicals in Pakistan, the Wall Street Journal reporter looked into the video camera and made a simple, shattering, statement: “My father is Jewish, my mother is Jewish, I am Jewish.”
It didn't matter that Pearl was not a Jewish believer in the traditional sense of the word. It didn't matter that he played bluegrass fiddle, married a French Buddhist and thrived in a variety of ethnic cultures. What mattered was his identity — to his killers.
“It didn't matter that Pearl didn't really choose to die for his faith,” said Matlins. “He was murdered because of who he was. He was murdered for his Jewish identity, whether he had ever really chosen it or not…. But there are many different kinds of Jews. Every individual is different. That is what this project is about.”
Thus, I Am Jewish features dozens of short personal testimonies collected into chapters on identity, heritage, ethnicity, justice and “covenant, chosenness and faith.”
Writers range from scholars to artists, from Orthodox rabbis to the gurus of popular spirituality. Famous faces — Nobel Peace Prize-winner Elie Wiesel, TV talk czar Larry King, Senator Joe Lieberman — share space with parents and children, including Alana Frey of Rockville Centre, New York. As a Bat Mitzvah project, she collected Jewish testimonies as a gift for Pearl's infant son. The project soon gained the support of Judea and Ruth Pearl, the journalist's parents.
The resulting book glories in its lack of consensus, especially on matters of faith. Radio talk show host Dennis Prager bluntly proclaims: “After Auschwitz, there are only religious (i.e. God-based) reasons to be a Jew.” Judea Pearl is equally blunt: “Religion?…I am a secular Jew. I find it hard to believe that an entity up there takes record of my thoughts and deeds.”
This clash is at the heart of modern Jewish life, said Matlins.
“There is no question that for the overwhelming majority of Jews in America — especially liberal and secular Jews — they cannot answer these questions except in terms of their individual identities and experiences…. What does it mean to be a Jew? They will answer for themselves. But it is a question they must answer.”
Terry Mattingly teaches at Palm Atlantic University and is a senior fellow for journalism at the Council For Christian Colleges and Universities. He writes this weekly column for the Scripps Howard News Service.
