December 21, 2006
I’m… dreaming… of a white… Chri—ummm, holidays
First of all, I'm a Jew. (Now there's a grabby start, eh? Probably cut into sales of my book in France, but what the heck.) The thing is, there are certain subjects in life where it's a good idea to say what you are before giving your opinion. Maybe it's a factor, and maybe it's not, and maybe it won't be necessary in 1,000 years, but it still helps in the present as a qualifier, disclaimer, badge, shield, whatever.
Like it or not, one's background affects the way we receive his opinions on a given issue. Whether you're hawkish or dovish on war, it helps your credibility if you've ever been in one. (Since my own uniformed service ended with the Cub Scouts, I try to avoid sentiments like, "I say we drop the big one.")
Let's say there's a bill in Congress to give every American under 5-feet tall $100 million. (Don't kid yourself, it's not that far-fetched.) This may or may not be a good idea, but if someone writes a column saying he supports it, and that, yes, the short folk should definitely get the money, it adds at least some perspective to have a note afterward saying, "The writer is 4-feet-11 in height." Therefore, saying you're a Jew is probably the right way to start a discussion about Christmas (or a date with Claudia Schiffer).
Second of all, I use the word "Jew" intentionally. I always use it. I never say Jewish, I say Jew. Being Jewish is easy for me, because it's about responsibility and ritual, and knowledge and morals and worship. Being a Jew is hard, because no one means it as a compliment. So I embrace it. Like other religions, being Jewish is done in private, with others who are the same as you, or alone in prayer. Being a Jew, though, is what I am in the world, and if you're one, too, I hope it doesn't come as a giant shock to hear that that's almost all anyone who looks at you will ever see.
Even if you've never said a prayer and have no beliefs, no matter how hard you try to please others and be invisible, even if you wear sandwich boards that say "Not me!" or "No Jew here!" and become a Buddhist, a Hindu, a Calvinist, a Rosicrucian or a Wiccan, you're a Jew, so you might as well start loving it. Try getting off the train at Auschwitz 60 years ago and telling the guy pointing to the room where you drop your shoes and get naked that there's been a terrible mistake, because you're not religious.
Maybe you're thinking, "Don't pull that concentration camp stuff anymore, it's ancient history." OK, maybe you're right. Try being a door-to-door salesman in Fallouja, then, and saying to everyone, "Oh, you don't understand, I'm a secular Jew and really don't follow the whole thing. Thank you, I'll be glad to come in. I mean, we go to temple on Yom Kippur -- everyone does, you know how it is -- but just for a little while, and most of the time I'll have a cup of coffee and a cigarette as soon as we get home.
OK, OK, I'm kneeling, take it easy. Anyway, the most Jewish thing I ever do is the Sunday Times crossword puzzle. Or try to, heh-heh. I had an uncle who used to do it in ink. Say, those sure are some weird banners you've got up there. Can I go now?"
And maybe you're thinking, "Don't pull that Fallouja crap, either. The only reason they'd do that is because we've invaded their country and ruined all their kite flying." Okay, maybe you're right again. Try it in Egypt, then, or Saudi Arabia. Or Yemen. Or Turkey. Or Chechnya.
Try it in Paris.
No, if you're Jewish, you either know you're a Jew, or you're an idiot, and if you're an idiot, don't worry, I've been one, too, lots of times. We all have. Perhaps, though, now would be a good time to stop, since the world's not going to change anytime soon.
Of course, you may be a resident of that rarest of wards in this asylum, the incurables, the ones who say, "The only reason any of it is happening is because of Israel." Then I can't help you. Your soul is so torn and in such frightened denial you wouldn't know your head's been cut off even after the video of it has won for Best Newcomer at the Al Jazeera Emmys.
Speaking of which, "I'm a Jew, and my parents are Jews" is the last thing they made Daniel Pearl say. And when they first snatched him and called their bosses to ask what to do, they didn't say, "We have a reporter," or "We have an American," or "We have a capitalist from the Wall Street Journal." They said, "We have a Jew." If that's still not enough, you might as well go all the way, like one of us, and become the attorney for Hamas.
Which, hooray, finally brings us around to ... one more word about Jews. (I know, for a chapter on Christmas there hasn't been an awful lot of it so far. Hold onto your yarmulkes, I'll get to it.)
Actually, this next point brings us right to Dec. 25, because Christmas, you know (unless you've all forgotten, which is increasingly possible), doesn't celebrate the birth of Santa, but the birth of Jesus, and Jesus was a Jew.
That may sound like overstating the obvious, but it's not. You might say, yeah, we all know that, let's move on, but think about it. Jesus wasn't a Christian, that all came after. He was born, lived and died a Jew, a rabbi, in fact, and it's worth taking a good look at it: Jesus was a Jew, his parents were Jews, everyone he grew up with and knew was a Jew, the disciples were Jews: St. Paul, who built the church; St. Peter; James; Mark; Thomas; Mary Magdalene; the guys crucified next to him on Calvary were Jews; everyone sitting on the grass listening to the Sermon on the Mount; and the first 10,000 Christians.
John the Baptist wasn't a Baptist, he was a Jew who baptized.