Wanya
Kruyer
Insiders
and Outsiders
[German]
At Bet Debora
I (a Jewish writer from Amsterdam) was surprised to encounter several non-Jews
who took part in the debates. For European Jewry, non-Jews participating in
Jewish life is a new phenomenon. After the Shoah, Judaism in continental Europe
was seldom perceived as a rich heritage or as a meaningful and vital
civilisation to share with others. But during my visits to the Anglo-Saxon
Jewish world, I discovered such perceptions were possible for my American and
English contemporaries. It seems they are able to pick and choose what they want
from Jewish heritage in order to compose their own personal identity. In those
societies, Jewish communities are perceived to be successful and others are
encouraged to participate.
This is
different in post-Shoah Holland. Many Jews, myself included, are at times
astonishingly closed to "the other". This is all the more remarkable because
many of us were raised in a liberal and open society. I occasionally heard
myself defending the "right" to be in a Jewish space "among ourselves". I know I
have that right, living in a society where people can organise on their own
terms. But my “right” felt wrong in a progressive Jewish space, where openness
towards all kinds of "othernesses" is advocated. I could find no proper
arguments to support it, other than personal emotions. And they certainly were
not arguments based on traditional Jewish thought, which is profoundly open to
the friendly other.
Thundering
Silence
"I really
felt strange at Bet Debora, a bit like a peasant at a party of aristocrats",
says Maja, a non-Jew from Switzerland. "My brother suggested, ‘Why didn't you
just invent a Jewish grandmother?’ Of course ancestry is a strong point to
emphasise a difference. This was a strange experience for me, someone who was
taught not to differentiate between people. In a workshop I tried to express
some of those thoughts, and all I got was kind of a 'thundering silence'. I
think, dragging a swastika out of my right ear would have had about the same
effect." She adds: "Afterwards, in the toilet, a young woman told me, I wasn't
so wrong. But I got the message: Never speak about Jews when you are among Jews,
if you're not a Jew yourself."
Maja studied
Islamic culture, modern history and literature. From working at a counselling
centre for religious groups, she acquired a lot of knowledge about group
identities and dynamics. On a personal level she struggles with the consequences
of group identification: "I have heard many Jews see mixed marriages as a
danger. But how should I see this as a non-Jew? If, for example, I were to fall
in love with a Jewish man, should I marry him of not? To marry him would mean
the children would be non-Jewish, not to marry him simply because he's a Jew
would somehow be anti-Semitic, so what's the solution? Not getting close to
Jewish people to prevent falling in love? Personally, I place the interests and
freedom of the individual above the interests of the group."
Usually the
subject of mixed marriages comes to me through single Jewish women complaining
about the lack of available Jewish men. In their view, too many Jewish men do
place "the interests and freedom of the individual above the interests of the
group”. And who would deny someone this right in the most personal choice one
can make? But for Jews this is not just a matter of freedom of choice. A Jew,
especially a Jewish man who actually chooses to "marry out" will always hear a
voice whispering "little Shoah" or "helping Hitler to finish his job". Even if
he is secular and not affiliated to the community, most Jewish men will feel the
consequences of this choice throughout the marriage, when a son is born, and
when a child reaches the age of Jewish adulthood. At those moments the Jewish
man has to face the consequences of marrying out of a community that was almost
exterminated.
Maja tells me
about her experiences: "When I worked at the counselling centre for religious
groups, I visited mosques and Hindu-temples, Buddhist feasts and different
churches, and I nearly always encountered two attitudes: Curiosity ('Why have
you come? What are you interested in? What do you think about this and that?'),
and the wish to show and explain customs: 'Now we are praying for this and that.
This meal is for the monks', etc.)." She continues: "Once, I visited a synagogue
on Friday evening with a group of other non-Jews, but this was like visiting a
museum or a zoo. The curiosity I experienced elsewhere was not present. At Bet
Debora I felt the same way."
I tried to
explain to her the unease I felt when recently, during a liberal service in
Amsterdam, I heard a non-Jew saying Kaddish, or watched a non-Jew carrying a
Torah scroll like a baby going around the worshippers. Maja takes this a step
further. In a world in which universal values are the norm, she questions
particularism: "There are other 'blasphemous' questions like: What is the sense
of seeing people as members of groups? Do we really need groups? What about
people, who belong to several groups or to none?" She continues: "To see people
as members of groups can distort the view of reality. Not everything somebody
does is a result of being a member of a specific group. That a terrorist is a
Muslim doesn't mean that he's a terrorist because he's a Muslim. Regarding Jews
and Israel I often hear, ‘They suffered so much, why do they make other people
suffer?' This is a really stupid idea, because when somebody is victim of a
crime, it simply means 'one is a victim of a crime', it doesn't say anything
about one's character. Suffering normally doesn't improve people, it destroys
them."
Colourful
Fish
I fully agree
with Maja. Being a member of a group is not a valid predictor of behaviour or
opinions, let alone character. And it certainly can't be an excuse for bad
behaviour. But on another level Maja and I differ profoundly. I love groups of
all kinds, temporary, floating, creative subcultures as well as group cultures
consisting of a solid set of traditions, customs and values inherited from
places far away, or times long gone.
To me, all of
those differences are like the scales of a colourful fish in a tropical
aquarium. The precondition is that the aquarium itself, society as a whole, is
kept together by shared democratic political and social values and mutual
respect for individuals in daily life. Because I love groups, subcultures, and
the interaction of civilisations, I love to be "among ourselves" on occasion.
Living in an open society I realise I want increasingly to enjoy those moments
in a private space. Like the people I choose to be with on the eve of the
Sabbath or at the seder table. To be "one of us" however, in my perception
doesn't mean having "a Jewish grandma" as Maja's brother suggested. Not even
having a Jewish mom and dad is enough.
As in every
group "to be one of us", to be an insider, means to speak, act, and move as the
other members do. In other words, I like to be with people who have the same
kind of neshamah [soul]. The hidden signals people pick up from each other,
distinguishes "insiders" from "outsiders". These signals are much stronger than
any inherited or acquired status, or claimed identity. This means that I
certainly do invite non-Jews to my Sabbath table who have the same kind of
neshamah as "us", whereas a lot of people who have Jewish grandmas I'd rather
not see in private.
This
observation regarding "informal Jewishness", played a role in the last issue
Maja and I discussed: the place of religion in Judaism. My dialogue partner
wondered: "I don't really understand what 'Jewish' means outside the religious
domain. It seems the word Jewish is used in such different ways. It is something
like a container different people fill with different meanings."
I tried to
explain this "informal Jewishness" and the multi-layered identity most Jews
experience. The multi-layered identity is particularly present in Europe, where
Jewishness is, unlike in the United States, rarely described as a "belief
system" like Christianity or Hinduism. A recent survey on the Dutch Jewish
population showed that for the huge majority, "religion" is a minor determinant
of "Jewish identity". Affinity with customs in the family or origin, affinity
with Israel, be it positive or critical, and for more than half, dealing with
the aftermath of the dark days of 1940-45, are much stronger determinants than
"religion". There is a great deal involved. "Jewish speech", behaviour, certain
attitudes, and other elements of informal Jewishness make it difficult for "the
other" to fully sense the whole of our communities.
Maybe, if the
Jews of Europe follow the American path, in one or two generations Jewishness
will also be a very personal choice for a specific affiliation or belief system.
And everybody will be a "Jew by choice". Ancestry will be no more than a
superficial layer, or, after some generations of mixed marriages, a partial
particularity, like being a "Greek American" or "Irish American". Maybe "Jewishness"
will be for some in the end a cultural role, temporarily played, as Maja
observed in her work at the counselling centre: "Some people are religious
tourists, they change their religion every two years.
I've even met
people who changed their ethnic identity several times."
Yet, in most
European countries this religious or ethnic tourism seems a long way off.
Judaism is still perceived as a struggle with many complex determinants. Those
who identify themselves publicly as Jews find they are challenging societal
consensus. A lot of courage is needed to claim the right to be different and the
right to be "among us", and be at the same time a respected member of the
society.
Wanya F.
Kruyer studied history and sociology, and works as a journalist in Amsterdam
specialising in Jewish thought.
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