Last weekend I was struck by a stark juxtaposition between the Old Testament reading in Sunday’s Episcopalian lectionary and sad news of yet another series of anti-Semitic attacks in the United States and abroad.
As I explore this juxtaposition, please forgive some over-generalized philosophical musings. What strikes me, though, is this: Even aside from the fact of the general sinfulness of faith- or race-based bigotry and hatred, it is particularly bizarre that Jews, of all people, have for more than two millennia been the object of such resentments, attacks, pogroms, and holocaust.
First, the sad news: In Germany, an anti-Semitic rampage on Yom Kippur killed two people. In Framingham, Massachusetts, charter school students were pushing viciously anti-Semitic social media posts. In Grand Rapids, Michigan, in Australia, and in Israel itself, in New Jersey, in England, and in the Bronx, among other places and incidents, reports came in the past few days of actions aimed against Jews specifically because they are Jews. Throughout the world, anti-Semitism is on the rise.
For this sort of thing to happen against any group is inexcusable, of course. The truth, though, is that if there is any one collective people whose very culture promotes good citizenship and intentional contributions to the civic weal wherever its members sojourn or settle, it is Jewish people who are the models. In fact, philanthropy and constructive citizenship is an ineradicable part of the mandate from their prophets.
That’s where Sunday’s church reading comes in. In it, the prophet Jeremiah sends a letter to Jewish exiles abroad, urging them to try to make the best of the polity wherever they find themselves. “Seek the welfare of the city where I have sent you into exile,” the prophet wrote, “and pray to the Lord on its behalf, for in its welfare you will find your welfare.”
In its welfare you will find your welfare. From at least the time of Jeremiah forward, that has been the watchword and practice of Jews throughout the world. Certainly here in America, Jews have pulled well more than their numeric weight in terms of civic leadership, charitable donations, and volunteerism. From the Torah itself and repeated throughout Jewish scripture, particular concern for the poor has always been part and parcel of the Jewish tradition.
In the U.S., Jews have a tremendous history of philanthropy — both in smaller individual acts, and in the formation of some of the great charitable foundations we know. Individual Jews tend to be the largest givers almost anywhere one goes. Here in Mobile, Alabama, where I live, the Mitchell family, which includes the state’s single largest donor, has donated $50 million for scholarships and $22 million for cancer research, among many other large donations, to the University of South Alabama — and also financed a performing arts theater at Spring Hill College, which is a Jesuit institution. This isn’t “Jews for Jews”; this is Jews for all.
“We’re Jewish, and in Judaism, charity and helping people is really an intricate part of our religion — you’re taught that since you were a child,” said Arlene Mitchell to the Mobile Press-Register in 2009.
Likewise in New Orleans where I grew up, a wonderfully large proportion of the great institutions, especially in education and the arts, are the products of Jewish philanthropy.
The worldwide, historical enmity against Jews is therefore bizarrely senseless. This is a people with a culture that stresses benevolence. The malevolence against them is a despicable sickness of the soul. What Jews merit isn’t abuse, but gratitude. Shalom.
