Hatred at Costco: Not in My City

Hello, friends.

Have you ever been in a situation where someone says something, and you don't think of the perfect response until hours later? Maybe someone made a comment and you later think of the perfect joke to respond with, or someone insults you and it takes you a while to think of the perfect comeback, or someone hits on you at a Purim party and you think of the perfect teasing response as soon as they walk away (hypothetically). You've missed the moment. I think it happens to all of us.

One type of situation about which I get really annoyed with myself for failing to respond in the moment is when I miss the opportunity to defend someone--whether it was someone being teased when I was younger, or if now someone says something just a little too off-color or offensive to someone else. I hate it, and I want to speak up. Also, contrary to most people, I do not mind confrontation if it is justified, and I am so honest by nature it sometimes gets me in trouble. So if I do manage to think of a response in the moment, especially to defend someone, I'm willing to say it, and often actually can't avoid saying it.

So this morning I began my day as I begin most Sundays: annoyed because the cat I live with woke me up by meowing outside my door way too early. I then slowly became more friendly after I had some tea and eggs, before heading out to my car to run some errands in Queens. First stop: Costco.

Now, I love Costco. It's really impossible to explain why, I just do. But I don't always love it on Sunday, because the one nearest me is always packed. However, I really needed some things, so I decided to go and just not get a cart so that I could maneuver around everybody more quickly.

So I grabbed a few things and awkwardly held them all in my arms, then headed to the registers to pay. As I was standing there in line--trying not to look like I was struggling to hold two industrial-sized bottles of lotion--I realized I'd forgotten something. After swearing in my mind, I left the line and headed all the way to the back of the store to get some tomatoes.

It's funny how sometimes timing is everything. How even just a few minutes or even seconds can make a difference in the outcome of a situation. So while I was not happy to waddle back through a packed Costco with all of my things in my arms, in the end, I was glad I did.

Now I should describe the Costco I go to here in the city before I continue with my story: it represents a fair amount of the diversity in New York City. When I left my priest- and nun-filled university in Rome in June, I was glad to come home to my city, thinking that I could wear sundresses and not feel shamed for baring my shoulders (the scandal!). But then I went to this Costco in Queens for the first time, and realized many of the people there were very religious Orthodox Jews and Muslims. Oops! I still wear what I want, and (unlike in Rome), no one has commented yet, but I'm still aware of the high density of religious folks at Costco.

So when I returned to the same line after I'd gotten my last item, I was a few people further back in the line than I had been before. At the register at the front of the line was a group of three women, two in Muslim head scarves and one not, with an adorable and well-behaved little girl. They were moving through the register already, when the man directly in front of me (a white man, maybe in his late 50's or early 60's) asked one of the women to move her cart up more. The woman did so. One of the other women then asked her--in another language--what the man had wanted (this was clear through their gestures, I'm not sure what language they were speaking). After this exchange, the man turns around to me and says, very loudly and very obviously, "They should really learn to speak English."  One of the women immediately said, in perfect English, "We do speak English," to which I replied simply to him, "They seem nice enough, and they speak English."

I was so shocked.

It was clear he was not placated by my response, and wanted me to agree with him. I'm not sure exactly what more he said, but I can tell you that it was awkward when he was standing right behind the women at the register a few seconds later. When the ladies left, the one carrying the child said sarcastically, "Goodbye, sir!" and the little girl echoed "Goodbye!" I thought it was an amazing moment that, even if the little girl didn't understand what had gone on, she was still saying goodbye to this man who had been so rude the them. It's important, to the best of our ability, to still act according to our own values, even in the face of such horrible actions, because we never want to become like those who are so full of hate. It seemed pretty clear to me that he was most likely turned off because they were Muslim, and speaking another language. Basically, just because they were different from him.

Once the group of women left to head out to the parking lot, I refused to let the issue drop (because I was angry, and I wanted to call him out on his behavior). I looked at him as he waited for his change, from the cashier, and I said, "Why did you think that they don't speak English?" He responded by starting to yell at me, saying "Why are you in my business?" or something to that effect. I absolutely refused to let him have the last word, so that no matter what he said, I just replied, "There's no need to be rude" (in a polite and calm tone, in response to his yelling). It was insane how rude this man was being, first by commenting on the women, and then by yelling at me. Real classy gentleman, that one, and he didn't even have the guts to speak to the women directly.

It was cute how maybe he thought I would be intimidated by him, a tall man, standing over me and yelling (though could I really even call someone who treats women so terribly a "man?" Debatable.). I briefly wondered if he would've hit me if I was a man, and then I wished he actually would because I would've loved explaining to a police officer what had happened. He eventually just left.

I was glad that I was able to catch up with the group of women in the parking lot as they were loading their things into their car. I wanted to emphasize to them how sorry I was that they were treated that way, and I said, "I wanted you to know that we're not all jerks," though I'm not sure who I meant by "we." Americans? White people? I think I just meant humans, because one of the women's English was so good she was probably American herself anyway. I wanted them to know that there are humans who don't believe what this (clearly racist) man believes. Of course there's value to learning the primary language of the country in which you live, of course--but at least one of them spoke English, and it was clear that the man hadn't cared. They thanked me for standing up for them, and, before I headed off to my own car, they said, "We're used to it, it happens to us."

This made me incredibly sad. In the most diverse place possibly on the planet, these young women should have to face discrimination when they aren't doing anything, it just made me sad and makes me want to cry. In fact, I did cry on my way to my next errand, out of adrenaline and sadness. The only thing I wish I had done differently in the whole situations is that I wish I'd told the women that I'm Jewish, because I could've made a strong interfaith connection there as well, by showing people that, as a Jew, I feel compelled to act in a situation like this. But I'm just glad I managed to respond to the horrible man in the moment, and that I didn't let it slip by.

But I need to emphasize that my sharing this story is not about me--it's about you. I write this blog to share my experiences, yes, but not with a passive goal--it is not enough for you to read this blog; this is about action. This is about you reading and hopefully agreeing about the importance of interfaith relations and understanding the Other and letting it make you better, so that we can collectively make the world better. If you just read this blog, and don't really think about what it means and let it influence how you act, then I am failing at my ultimate goal. We absolutely need to stand up for those facing any kind of prejudice or unwarranted hatred. The Holocaust happened because too many good people did not have the courage to stand up, or felt that what was going on just "wasn't their business." It brings to mind an important quote by the prominent war-time Protestant pastor and anti-Hitler speaker, Martin Niemöller:
 
First they came for the Socialists, and I did not speak out—
Because I was not a Socialist.
 
Then they came for the Trade Unionists, and I did not speak out—
Because I was not a Trade Unionist.
 
Then they came for the Jews, and I did not speak out—
Because I was not a Jew.
 
Then they came for me—and there was no one left to speak for me.

When I called my father to tell him what had happened, the main thing I could get out was, "Not in my city." Not in my city will I stand by silent. Not in my city will I suffer bigots and racists and ignorant fools to say whatever they want, and think they can get away with it. I mean, I don't like it happening anywhere, but especially not in my home. It's just not gonna happen, and I hope you won't let it happen either.

Hmm, guess it looks like I have a new hashtag...

#notinmycity

Now go out and love one another.

<3,
Allyson

Food Traditions: Jewish Fall Holiday Foods

Hello, friends!

Food plays an important role in many religions and cultures. From turkey for Thanksgiving to chocolate eggs for Easter, it's clear that people often use food as a symbol of tradition and continuity in their various and several communities.

It will hopefully not come as a surprise for many of you that Judaism is no different, and let me just say...we sometimes eat some very strange things. Some would even deem them extremely unappetizing. As a very wise woman once said to me, "The Jews have already suffered so much. Why do they continue to suffer with these foods?" All joking aside, we've got some pretty good ones, too.

And now, here is a slightly-joking, ultimately-proud run-through of some traditional Jewish holiday foods in the fall (and others that are eaten all year round).

1. Gefilte Fish, All Holidays

Description: A grey-ish, chicken breast size-ish piece of mixed fish. Often served cold (my late Abuela [Catholic] used to eat it warm, but she was the only one I ever saw do so). Comes with transparent cold gel on top. And carrots. Some people add very spicy horseradish.

Why: This is one that gets a lot of non-Jews and Jews alike. Why? Why do we eat this? Not really sure, but I ate one at my aunt's house for Rosh Hashanah this past week. Bring on that cold slime!

2. Apples and Honey, Rosh Hashanah

Description: Literally just fresh apple slices dipped in little dishes of honey. No, I have never actually seen someone use one of those wooden honey stick things.

Why: Why not? (Also, to bring in a sweet new year, as Rosh Hashanah marks the beginning of the Jewish new year.) I literally had a snack of apples and honey today, even though the holiday is over.

3. Round Challah, Rosh Hashanah

Description: Challah is usually a type of braided bread, eaten on Shabbat but also pretty much any other time we can. It's only made round once a year, for Rosh Hashanah. In the U.S., it is often sweet and delicious, made with honey and a very light type of bread. In Rome, it was very different--more savory than sweet.

Why: Well, we have a blessing in Judaism, the motzi, over the bread. We do this at basically all occasions, like weddings and religious services, and very observant Jews would say it whenever bread is eaten at a meal. Like when asked to say most prayers in a group setting, it is considered an honor to recite the motzi with a group, like a wedding that honor might be given to one of the newlyweds' parents. When I attended liberal Jewish services in Rome one time, they very kindly asked me to say the motzi.

Also, at least in NY, challah french toast is a fancy thing and people of all religions eat it on Sunday mornings as hangover brunch food. L'chaim!

4. Chopped Liver, All Holidays

Description: Fat. In spreadable form. Eat with some type of bread thing.

Why: Now, this stuff can be delicious if it's made right. But it's also slowly killing us all by clogging our arteries. I think a lot of people probably cannot get over how fattening this is to even try it, but hey--holidays are for celebrating. Plus, as Tevye always says when he can't explain something about Judaism: tradition!


5. Bagels and Lox, Yom Kippur (and always)

Description: What it sounds like: bagels. Lots of them. Include cream cheese and smoked salmon (and tomato and sometimes onion). Happiness. My family has (no joke) overnight shipped bagels to family members outside of NY in the past, because we love NY bagels so much.

Why: Yom Kippur is meant to be a reflective holiday, one on which we all focus upon our mistakes of the past year, seek forgiveness from those we have wronged, and vow to be better in the coming year so that G-d inscribes us in the Book of Life (and so we'll live another year). It's coming up on October 4th (which means we begin fasting at sundown on the 3rd).

What does this have to do with bagels? Well, all day you're meant to not think about vain things (no showering or mirrors) and fast (no eating or drinking anything, except for medical reasons). Also no cooking or watching TV or listening to music, etc. Now, I'm pretty sure many of the folks in shul on Yom Kippur morning spent more than a little time getting ready in the bathroom ahead of time (since particularly in liberal Jewish circles, Yom Kippur is probably the day you're guaranteed to go temple and see everyone else, possibly just this one day a year), but nonetheless many people would prefer to at least not have to cook on a reflective day such as this. And so, many people order in bagels and lox (and other things, sometimes quiche or chicken salad, etc.).

My disclaimer for this is that a whole wheat bagel with lox and cream cheese is literally my favorite food on the planet, which means Yom Kippur was always my favorite holiday. Not allowed to do work or schoolwork, forced to think or read all day, you spend time with family, and then by sundown you're starving, and the main dish is? My favorite food on the planet. And lots of it. In all seriousness, I do reflect and take serious time to consider how I can improve myself going forward, and while I will drive so that I can be home with my family, I will not turn on music or anything and spend the quiet time alone in the car thinking and reflecting.

And then...bagels.


Any funky food traditions you want to share, from either your religious or non-religious identity and culture? Post images or descriptions in the comments!

Now go out and love one another.

<3,
Allyson

A Zoroastrian Interfaith Wedding!

Hello, friends!

I wanted to share a blog post I wrote that was recently posted on the blog for the NYU multifaith office, for those who have not yet seen it. It's about my friend's Zoroastrian wedding last month, which was pretty amazing!

Here's the link: http://www.nyuofmany.org/2014/08/15/my-incredible-experience-at-a-zoroastrian-wedding/

Shavua tov--let's all make it a good week! Now go out and love one another.

<3,
Allyson

Israel and Palestine: The Neverending Conflict

Hello, friends.

A topic that I avoid most days: Israel and Palestine. But not lately.

It's the epitome of a situation that could use some more interfaith relations, and yet I often find myself avoiding it as much as possible for a variety of reasons.

One of these is that I cannot pretend to offer any advanced opinion on the political situation in the Middle East. I would describe myself as an educated lay person, at best. I have heard the Israeli/Jewish side my entire life, via my synagogue, Hebrew School, Jewish sources, etc., it's true. I traveled to Israel in January-February of this year on an interfaith (but also, to a large extent, Jewish-focused) trip. I took a course on the situation of Jerusalem earlier this year, which, was taught by an American Jewish man, though offered a fairly balanced view of the situation. I have also spoken about the conflict with some close friends and family, including a good friend of mine, a very religious Christian who sympathizes more with the Palestinian side.

Regardless of my own personal opinions, I want to express my frustration. My frustration that these peoples cannot live peacefully in the land that should be the exemplar of peace. Frustration that we can never really know if the media is telling us the truth--I have seen news reports alleging almost opposite accounts of various events over there (Did Israel fire first, or Hamas?). Frustration that people think it's okay to then blame all Jews, around the world, for Israel's actions, and so offer an excuse for their blatant antisemitism (I'm mainly looking at you, Europe). Frustration that we cannot reach a resolution. And frustration that people on both sides too often refuse to even attempt to understand the other perspective.

I was once asked in a job interview what really makes me mad. For those who know me, I am a fairly even-keeled person--I keep my head in a crisis, do not often get too overwhelmed or unhappy, but manage to maintain a level of calm, even in a debate. But there is one thing that really angers me: intolerance as a result of intentional ignorance. I hate hearing people say ignorant things without having the humility to accept that maybe they do not know everything. This comes up when talking about antisemitism, or certain religions, or, yes, the Middle East.

My aforementioned Christian friend and I disagree, it's true. She reads the reports that favor Palestine--she largely believes them. I read the reports that favor Israel--I largely believe them. But we can talk about these issues reasonably, learn from one another, and admit that both sides have done things with which we personally disagree. It's a fruitful discussion.

But too often, those who might have one view about the conflict are not willing to even entertain my opinions. How do we progress if we do not listen to the other side? As I mentioned above, I acknowledge that I have had a biased source of information about the conflict for most of my life, I offer that upfront in any discussion--but I also want to learn, and I seek to understand many viewpoints about the situation. I fear that many do not afford me the same consideration in these discussions, which is another reason I shy away from these discussions. I think some people would discount my opinion about the situation because of my religion. "Oh, well you're Jewish, of course you support Israel," without even offering me the consideration of listening, really listening, to some of my arguments. This is not only an issue regarding the Middle East, of course--plenty of people hold their opinions, and do not actually care what other people have to say. But it seems particularly bad with this issue.

I am not sure how aware non-Jews are of the dialogue in the American Jewish community, but most Jewish discussions I hear want a peaceful, two-state solution, even while most Jews would probably say they support Israel. The facts show that every time over the past century these peoples have been offered a two-state solution, Jews have accepted it and the Palestinians have rejected it. That's a fact. Hamas, the ones sending the rockets into Israel, is notably antisemitic--not just anti-Israel, but anti-Jews in general, with some saying they want to destroy all Jews everywhere: http://www.adl.org/anti-semitism/muslim-arab-world/c/hamas-in-their-own-words.html.

Meanwhile, most of what I see coming from my Jewish sources are prayers for peace. On Shabbat, our weekly day of rest, at the end of Shabbat, throughout the week, everything says, "Shabbat Shalom, may there be peace" or "Shavua tov, may there be peace this week." There are of course extremists who favor Israeli action that would end this war, once and for all--because I don't think anyone doubts that Israel has the ability to at any moment bomb and destroy the Palestinian territories and people, and so end this once and for all. But most reasonable people--Jews--cry out for peace. I know there are Palestinians who want it, too--but where are those voices? Why do I not hear them? I frequently say to my pro-Palestine friends: Please, send me these articles, show me that Palestinians want peace. And so I say this to all of you reading this: add your comments to this blog, add your articles showing this; I want to learn. I want to believe there are people on all sides longing for peace.

This blog post comes about as a result of a homily I heard recently. I attended a fairly young, vibrant congregation called Romemu on the Upper West Side last week for Shabbat. The rabbi, David Ingber, had just returned from several weeks in Israel (what a turbulent time to be there). You all surely know that this conflict began when three Israeli teenage boys were kidnapped and killed, apparently by Palestinians. The Palestinian Authority president condemned this, but, as this article explains, his condemnation somewhat focused on criticizing Israel's reaction to the kidnapping rather than simply the heinous crime that prompted their reaction. The second article also explains how hateful cartoons started appearing from leading Palestinian political party Fatah, basically celebrating the kidnapping. For example, this one is a spoof on the World Cup logo, with the three boys captured in the hands:

There were others as well, including one depicting the three boys as mice caught on hooks of a fishing rod. As I sit here writing this, I try not to cry once again, since I cannot imagine how anyone could celebrate the sick kidnapping of these young men. And for what? I find it hard myself to figure out how we can negotiate across both sides, when the people in the Palestinian leadership are either supporting celebratory cartoons like these, or are at least complicit in them. I will try to take heart from the courage of those with perhaps more strength than I have right now.

So the rabbi at Romemu last week told a story about how his beloved teacher-rabbi had died close to the same time that Jewish extremists killed that young Palestinian man (which Israeli leaders, and even Jewish relatives of one of the slain Israeli boys, condemned strongly) in retaliation for the murder of the three Israeli boys. This rabbi, in Israel and mourning with other students of his recently-deceased rabbi, heard about the murder of this young Palestinian. And what did this group of Jews do, while sitting Shiva in the middle of Jerusalem, with riots building in East Jerusalem amongst the Palestinians? They decided to sneak illegally over to East Jerusalem, risking their lives to do so...in order to mourn with the family of the Palestinian who was killed.

Now that's interfaith.

I started to cry as Rabbi Ingber told his story, and it still moves me, even now.* This is the kind of thing that could lead to an end to this conflict. Not the cartoons glorifying the murder of children. Not the people who refuse to listen to my opinions, or your opinions, or anyone's opinions. Not the extremists--on both sides--who think that just wiping out "all Jews" or "all Palestinians" is okay. Because it's not.

So, as the truce is extended for another five days, and leaders try so hard to find a peaceful solution to this conflict, let us take heart. Let us, in our own lives, practice a little more active listening when we discuss the conflict, and really try to understand those we speak with. Let us all pray, or meditate, or just send out good vibes, that those in positions of power will have just a little more humility themselves, and a little more acceptance, and listen to the other side. And hopefully let it move them towards a lasting, true, peace.

Now go out and love one another.

<3,
Allyson

---
*If you are interested in listening to the 24-minute homily that Rabbi Ingber gave, it is available online: https://romemu.org/sermons/vaetchanan/g-d-said-no

Live from New York...

it's Sunday night!

Hello, friends!

As you may have gathered from the title, I have made the move back across the ocean and into New York City. I actually flew back six weeks ago today...which is insane, because it does not feel possible that six weeks have passed by so quickly. These past few weeks have been insane. Life is insane. But good! And #interfaithallthetime, of course.

So I got back from Rome on June 8th, a Sunday, and moved into my new apartment in the city seven days later on June 15th, so that was a week of "quick, unpack, do laundry, repack" like you wouldn't believe. Then I started work the next day, on June 16th. What craziness, but at least the quick turnaround (and being forced to wake up at 6:30 a.m. for the gym and work) helped me beat jet lag fairly quickly this time around. Woohoo!

At the moment, I am actually working for two different interfaith organizations, though after the summer I think things will settle down and I will probably transition to full-time at one of them. Both groups are doing excellent but different interfaith-y things: one is an interfaith office at a university, working to get college students to dialogue across faith boundaries, while the other brings together different faith groups (Catholic, Sikh, Jewish, Muslim, etc.) to raise money to help refugees suffering as a result of the war in Syria. Things I've done so far include attending a lecture by a Syrian refugee at JTS (the Conservative rabbinical school in NYC), chatting with an imam (and gushing over his extremely adorable daughter), questioning my Orthodox Jewish colleagues constantly, and generally just settling back into NYC life. The contrast between Italy ("Hmmm, maybe I'll wake up at 10 a.m.--should I get a cappuccino? Maybe I'll just buy some flowers in the piazza before class") to NYC ("I can't believe I have not slept more than 6.5 hours for weeks, I need to catch the subway, quick, go go go") has been amusing, but totally fine. And exhausting.

So I started work back in June, everything was going well for the first few days, and then I fell fairly ill right before July 4th. Those fun times lasted about 10 days (during which I had to miss a day of work, force myself to eat whatever I thought wouldn't make me nauseous, and cancel lots of fun things, like seeing the fireworks!). As soon as I was better, I headed home for a scheduled weekend visit with my parents, and my godparents and their son. I've also been seeing numerous friends all around the city, from high school and from Rome and from college--it's all been crazy, but crazy good!

In terms of personal religious/interfaith-y things (beyond constantly talking about religion and feminism and interfaith with anyone who is willing to talk about it), I went to a Reform synagogue on Friday night! I recently came to realize that because I went to college in southern Virginia, and have lived across the pond in Europe a few times, I have not lived in a place with Reform Jews (for any prolonged period of time) for the last five years! Everyone at the shul was very friendly, but I also plan to do some synagogue hopping around the city over the next few months to experience different temples. Yay!

Also, this coming week marks the wedding of one of my close friends. It's an interfaith ceremony, but will mainly be led by a Zoroastrian priest. So in addition to being excited/busy traveling down to D.C./freaking out (this is one of my first friends to get married), I'll get to have some interfaith excitement, too, and experience a Zoroastrian service. There's also a 99% chance of showers in the form of me sobbing at the wedding, since I am sure it will be beautiful. I know both the bride and the groom from college, which is also really nice. What a great week ahead!

As a side bar, we are all aware that fighting has broken out again in Israel, so here's my short prayer  that the conflict will end swiftly. This type of religious/cultural fighting makes my heart sad, and is kind of why I do what I do--a lot of misunderstandings in the name of religion have exacerbated the conflict (combined with countless historical/political/complicated things, yes, I know), but hopefully one day everyone will find a way to love and respect each other. It's important to take heart from pieces like this one from The Jewish Daily Forward showing how individuals overcome conflict to treat each other as humans.

Take some time to meditate away from the craziness of life when you can (advice I am trying to give myself). Send up some prayers for everyone suffering in the Middle East, and everywhere, if that's your style. And, as always, go out and love one another.

<3,
Allyson

A Friday Night in Rome

Hello, friends.

I had the excellent opportunity on a recent Friday night to attend a Catholic mass...in Hebrew!

Now, I've been to an extremely high number of Catholic masses in my life, and in particular this year--whether it was for the opening of the academic year at my university back in the fall, or in a cave with our group of fellows when we were in Israel in January, or to support my (soon-to-be-ordained) seminarian friend when he recently gave a homily here in Rome. So when I met a nice priest (Fr. Steve) back at an audience with Pope Francis in April who invited me to come to mass in Hebrew once he found out I was Jewish, I was a bit reluctant. I very often enjoy seeing services of other faiths, but it was just feeling like a lot of Catholicism at that point, and I needed a bit of a break. However, after a few weeks, the priest shot me an e-mail letting me know that the final Hebrew mass of this school year was coming up, in case I wanted to come. I was free that Friday night, so I decided to don some appropriate-for-church clothing (despite the heat) and head out to meet him at the Pantheon to walk to mass together.

A photo I took at our university's audience with Papa F on April 10th

And I am so glad I went. Before the mass started, I was able to meet with a few of the people who would be attending. Everyone greeted me warmly, and seemed delighted to find out I was Jewish, which makes sense since in a lot of ways, this was a group of Catholics trying to honor their Jewish roots. The main celebrant was a priest from Belgium, and he and I had a nice short chat about where I came from and such.

The group attending was small, around ten people. We met in a small chapel at a residence for Jesuits, a little white room with minimal but very nice adornments, and sat in a semi-circle of chairs surrounding the altar. Almost everyone at the mass were priests, with one lay lady and myself. The mass is held on Friday nights to honor the start of the Jewish Sabbath, Shabbat, and opened with the lady lighting candles, similar to how a Jewish person would to open Shabbat. The mass is usually in all Hebrew and Italian, and they threw in some English since I was there (not realizing I speak Italian). Some of the prayers (over the Eucharist and the wine) opened in actually the same Hebrew wording as the hamotzi and kiddush (over the bread and the wine) in Judaism. It was pretty neat.

The main celebrant gave a short homily, in which he said some moving things. He explained that the mass was "special because Allyson is here, she's Jewish and wanted to come pray with us." Knowing where I come from, he also said, "Let us pray for the Jewish communities of New York City and the surroundings, the Orthodox, Reform, Conservative, and the more liberal." He explained how once Jerusalem and Alexandria were the centers of worldwide Jewry and Jewish learning, and how now it is Jerusalem and New York. Also, he discussed the then-impending trip of Pope Francis to Israel, and the importance of dialogue. To hear a Catholic priest, in a room of mostly young priests, talk about something so touching and so vital, to welcome me so honestly, at a Hebrew service in the center of Rome and thus worldwide Catholicism, was a critical example of how it only take one person (or a small group of people) to really positively impact interfaith relations. I am sure the memories from this mass will stay with me for a long time.

Perhaps not a typical Friday night activity, but definitely a worthwhile one.

After the mass, a Brazilian priest who lived in the building took us up to the roof to show us their incredible view of the city of Rome. I've got to tell you--I've now been to the top of a hill overlooking the city called Gianicolo (a few times), climbed the dome of St. Peters, and gone on the roofs of the British College (where the British priests live), the North American College (where the American priests live), and now the Jesuit residence, Casa Bellarmino, and all I can say is that these priests have the best views of Rome.

The view from Casa Bellarmino--that's St. Peter's in the distance

As I finish up my last twelve days (!) in Rome, I am starting to reflect on what this year has meant to me, and where I am going from here. I am sure this introspection will continue for a long time, but for now, I know that I've learned a lot, met some great people that I will miss, and that I'm excited for these interfaith opportunities to continue when I move back to New York in just a few weeks.

Now go out and love one another.

<3,
Allyson

Interfaith Means Defending the Other

Hello, friends.

A belated Happy Passover, Happy Easter, and Happy Everything to everybody. I hope all of those who celebrate had good spring holidays.

The past three weeks have been very eventful in a lot of ways. On the one hand, I had an excellent visit with my parents during my spring break, as we traveled all around Italy. We ate dinner overlooking Florence, visited the Jewish ghetto in Venice (from which the word "ghetto" actually originates), stayed directly on Lake Como, and went on a brilliant hike between two towns in Cinque Terre.

A photo of the town of Vernazza taken during our
(challenging, over-a-mountain, sunny) hike last week

But as excellent as our trip was, I could not help but feel worry and sadness as I read the news stories about the numerous, horrible antisemitic things that seemed to all be taking place over the past few weeks.

The worst of these antisemitic events took place on April 13th: a deadly shooting spree in Kansas at a Jewish community center and a Jewish retirement home by a white supremacist, with previous links to the KKK. The man, 72-year-old Frazier Glenn Cross, opened fire at the two locations, eventually killing a 14-year-old boy, the young man's grandfather, and another middle-aged woman. Apparently as he was arrested he shouted "Heil Hitler." While I've been living in Europe, I have heard non-Americans make hurtful jokes about the gross number of shootings in our country, and it is unfortunately a constant problem that has only gotten worse in the past few years. Often, though, the shootings seem to have more to do with the shooter having a mental illness--this time, it was specifically a hate crime (though perhaps combined with some mental illness). You can read more here. Ironically, none of the three individuals he murdered were Jewish; they were all Christian. Such a tragedy.

Also around the same date, it emerged that a teacher in a London school told a misbehaving teenage Jewish girl that if the girl didn't behave, the teacher was going to send her "to one of your gas chambers." This, in a supposedly progressive city, and in a school with a supposedly sizable Jewish student population. You can read a brief article on the incident here. According to the articles I've read, details on what, if any, disciplinary action has been taken against the teacher are not being released.

Another frightening thing that took place right around the same time happened as Jews in Donetsk, in Eastern Ukraine, were emerging from synagogue services on Passover, when they were met by masked individuals who handed them pamphlets explaining that they had to register with a government agency. Here is a USA Today article from April 17 explaining what went on. As Michael Salberg, director of the international affairs at the New York City-based Anti-Defamation League, is quoted in the article as saying, "Jews are the default scapegoat throughout history for despots to send a message to the general public: Don't step out of line." It was extremely frightening when the news first came out, as it harkens back to the way Nazis and their supporters gathered information about the Jewish people during World War II in order to more effectively persecute them. Not to mention the fact that the Ukraine is not too far from where I live here in Rome--this wasn't happening in some vague, far-off place I couldn't conceive of, it's happening here, in Europe. It has since emerged that this was some type of political hoax being used in the political upheaval in that region and not an actual requirement for the Jewish people of the city, though the fact that people would use antisemitic fear in order to wage political battles is disturbing at best.

I sometimes feel a bit uncomfortable and careful about how I defend Judaism in situations like these. It feels like, because I am defending my own group, it might come across as me overreacting, like I am too personally connected to the issue to see it clearly. But since I specifically research antisemitism in Europe, and keep track of it in the US, it is pretty clear that is has never gone away, and incidents like these are unfortunately not isolated but part of a larger trend. However, I do think it often comes across much more strongly when members of other groups defend groups that are being persecuted--like when my friends stick up for Judaism, or I for other groups. Here is a great quote by Eboo Patel, the founder and leader of the Interfaith Youth Core in the USA:

 

I feel a personal responsibility to defend people suffering persecution--whether that is in some big way by trying to fight discrimination on a larger scale, or in small ways by looking at my own failings. I have never cared very much what people think of me, which makes it significantly easier for me to speak up when I see something that comes across as wrong. It is not always easy, and I am not even saying that I always succeed--far from it--but I feel an absolute moral imperative to do so, whatever religious (or other) group is being abused in any way. Especially as a Jewish person, given our teachings and our history of discrimination and persecution, I rarely manage to stay quiet when someone makes comments about other groups.

Do you feel this moral responsibility? Would you speak up if someone said Muslims are horrible people? Or that Christians are filled with hatred? Or that gay people are going to hell? Or that Jews are going to hell? How would you respond? I know sometimes social protocol implies that we should hold our tongues, not raise an issue when someone says something casually that just rubs you the wrong way. But I, at least, think that their biases break social protocol and demand action on the part of others. I fear that if we let people get away with their hate speech without challenge, that these problems will just continue and escalate--as they did in Kansas and other places around the world. This is the heart of interfaith: speak up.

So please, think about what you would do if someone made a comment in front of you--because believe me, when someone from another groups defends me or anyone, it makes a big difference.

Now go out and love one another.

<3,

Allyson

 Our interfaith souvenir from Venice!