Do American Jews Know We're Not in Exile Anymore?
Shalom Chaverim,
This past month was Tisha B’av—one of the saddest holidays in the Jewish calendar.
Most of our holidays encourage us to celebrate, and those that don’t are usually solemn in nature rather than sad. Not this one though; this holiday is deliberately about mourning the tragedies of our people.
Perhaps the sages argue differently, but the destruction of the Second Temple towers over the destruction of the First in our people’s memory. When Jerusalem was sacked, we lost more than just our temple or control over our land.
We lost Judaism as we knew it.
Rabbis were forced to reconfigure our entire tradition in order to ensure it survived. Instead of the Sanhedrin, a central body where Jewish law was decided, Batei Din were formed in its stead. Small councils of rabbis would interpret Jewish law for their local community. Rabbis would travel across great distances to learn and then travel even greater distances to provide council to their community. In exile, every rabbi was not only more subjected to their own biases and interpretations, but they were also forced to do so within the constrictions of their time and location.
Undoubtedly, there is immense beauty in our people’s diversity, but there is also a small piece of sadness that lies in its origin. Had we not been scattered to the four corners of the world, I imagine in our tradition would’ve remained relatively uniform and consistent. Our people’s diverse histories are not just about the incredible food we all eat or the small variations in how we sing songs.
We also have different styles of prayer, different synagogues, and even different holiday regulations. Ashkenazi Jews don’t eat kitniyot on Passover while Sephardic Jews do for no other reason than Ashkenazi Jews had to adapt to their environment. We are forced to ask: “What would our people be like had we not been scattered to the wind?”
It’s entirely possible we would’ve ended up like many other ethnic minorities that have been massacred since the Arab Muslim conquest in the 7th Century. Copts, Maronites, the Amazigh, the Druze and Samaritans, and many more are nothing of what they were due to Arab Muslim oppression lasting 1,400 years. It’s also possible we would’ve been scattered to the wind at any other point in time, but without the necessary tools to return. It’s become vogue to insult Ashkenazi Jews for their food, skin tone, weak stomachs, and genetic faults. Sometimes it’s in good fun and other times it’s not. Let us not forget, however, that it were the Ashkenazi Jews who were the first philanthropists in the 18th and 19th Centuries who helped build the Jewish quarter of Jerusalem. Let’s not forget it was an Ashkenazi Jew who convinced Lord Balfour to make his declaration. Let’s not forget that Ashkenazi Jews were the first to take real action to make our dream to return to our home come to reality. I’m just not sure Jews have internalized they live in that reality.
Similar to our inability to contemplate large numbers, we also find it difficult to contemplate deep time—that is just how long ago something occurred. Humans aren’t wired to understand those things for both biological and psychological reasons, but just try with me. Think about the last time you set foot into a history museum and saw a piece of pottery, like a wine jug. Now think about that wine jug and why it existed. Someone obviously wanted a cup of wine just like you do after a long day. Perhaps their guest wanted a cup to celebrate Shabbat just as you fill your guests’ cups on the Sabbath. Similar to today, that wine must’ve come from a vineyard—owned by someone who hired people to work on it. People picked the grapes and others ensured the right mixture was consistently brewed. Someone else had to bottle the wine and bring it to a marketplace and someone else had to sell it.
“Undoubtedly, there is immense beauty in our people’s diversity, but there is also a small piece of sadness that lies in its origin.”
Two thousand years ago, someone drank their last cup of wine before the city of Jerusalem was sacked and our people were scattered to the four corners of the earth. Every year since, every Jew faced a choice to remain Jewish or to assimilate. Every year, they decided whether they would fast on Yom Kippur. Every month, women decided whether to bathe in the mikvah. Every week, families decided whether to rest on Shabbat. Every day, men decided whether to wrap tefillin. Every Jew made this decision in the face of persecution, and many Jews decided not to wrap tefillin, to rest on Shabbat, to bathe in the mikvah, or to fast on Yom Kippur because of this persecution. For two thousand years, our people chose to remain subservient and dutifully obedient because we were scattered, separated, and siphoned from one another. Survival instincts take over when you know that, in a moment’s notice, you have nowhere to go. Two thousand years later, due to the efforts of every Jew from every corner of the world, we now have somewhere to go.
Countless Jews in America, even the most ardent Zionists, remain convinced that if we simply defer to the powerful, we will remain safe. Despite this strategy having always failed, American Jews remain arrogant enough to believe we are the exception. We are not. I understand why American Jews believe this. It’s been engrained into us for two thousand years. I don’t actually believe American Jews believe we’ll be safe; we’re just doing everything we can to stave off the inevitable. I reiterate that I understand this feeling because who wants to acknowledge that our time in this country is limited like it has been in every other? It’s a terrible idea to think, let alone internalize. We believe this because we repeat the same story of the Holocaust:
THE JEWS HAD NOWHERE TO GO! They traveled by ship across the world and no country would take them!
Do you know what story we don’t tell well or often enough? The one about the Jews who escaped the Holocaust and went to Palestine and fought for their freedom and for their lives. We don’t tell the story of the Iranian Jews who fled in 1979 and the fact that they did have somewhere to go. In fact, most Mizrachi Jews are the byproduct of being forced out of countries they had far stronger ties to than Ashkenazi Jews because they had somewhere to go. Yemenite Jews, Beta Israel, and so many others escaped with their lives because they had somewhere to go.
For two thousand years, there were millions of Jewish refugees. Now, there is not a single Jewish refugee on Earth. Jews in America are the largest group in the Diaspora who, despite their wealth and influence, still remain committed to being subservient to the majority because we are scared. We were taught by our parents, grandparents, great-grandparents, and a dozen generations before that we must remain deferential to survive because we were in exile. Our ancestors engrained into us that we must cede our power and strength to show that we are not dangerous; until, of course, the powerful and strong decide they need us to be dangerous for their own purposes and we experience the same outcome. This is a mindset for a people who are in exile.Subscribe
We are not in exile anymore. We should start acting like it.
This essay was written by Z.E. Silver, who publishes the newsletter, “Gam V’gam.” He is a political and cultural commentator focused on politics both in the U.S. and abroad, with an emphasis on Jewish peoplehood, antisemitism, and Israel. Find him on X @z_e_silver. Follow his Substack.
