I define myself as a liberal, tolerant
person and a secular Jew. I did not grow
up in a religious family or in Israel. Yet, having lived in Israel for more
than 26 years, I have become acquainted with many religious people, especially
my wife's family, who accept me completely. Living in the Galilee, I teach as
well as work and interact with many local Arabs, both Christian and Muslim, and
have visited many Druze houses. So, the
terms "religious Jew" and "Arab" represent real people to
me.
Recently, I experienced two
"challenging" situation in terms of my self-definition as a liberal.
Several weeks ago, on the train from Ben Gurion Airport to Acco after a long
flight from California, a group of five Arab college students entered the
train, filled with enthusiasm and energy. After 20 plus hours, my wife and I
wanted some peace and quiet but did not get any. The students talked loudly,
told jokes and made comments about a series of videos on their phones, all in
Arabic. We could not conveniently go to
another carriage as our luggage was on the rack there. To clarify, they were
not behaving badly but instead boisterously. After being asked to lower the
volume a bit, they tried but were simply unable.
During the hour we shared that carriage,
I considered the reasons for my annoyance. Was it the level of noise on my
already frayed nerves? Was it the sheer energy level when I wanted
serenity? Was it the fact that they were
loudly speaking Arabic? In other words, if a similar group of Hebrew speaking
students had entered, would I have been equally disturbed? After careful
thought, I had to admit that the third issue was also a factor. It somehow
bothered that they were so loud in a foreign language and Arabic at that. I then considered the issue and realized
that, while it may annoy me at this moment, the Arabic language was a matter of
their cultural identification and, moreover, national pride for Israel, which
allows its minorities to feel sufficiently comfortable to express themselves
openly in their own language, even in public.
Last week, I visited a religious
family in mourning. The deceased having
left behind many siblings and children as well as a husband, the apartment was
packed with people with almost everybody wearing a kippa or head
covering. I did my best to blend in and looked for a conversation to
participate in or at least listen with interest. In fact, everybody, young and
old, was talking about the manner of the upcoming Yom Kippur prayers in
all their aspects. More strikingly, they were discussing such matters with
great joy and interest. This attitude
ignited the question that generally pops up in my mind when seeing religious
conversations: why do you waste so much time and energy on such irrelevant
matters? Of course, the question presupposes that my secular way of thinking is
correct as compared to the "brainwashing" religious people get. In
all probability, they considered my lack of interest in Torah equally errant.
In such cases, I remind myself that the world is made of many faiths, no matter
how ridiculous I may consider them.
The cultural gap between me as a Jewish
atheist and them is as least as great as I felt on the train. The latter is
easier to bridge as I consciously recognize the legitimacy of cultural
self-expression. On the other hand, my
inability to grasp the faith base of religious people makes it harder to
maintain my tolerance. Marx wrote that religion is the opium of the
people. Accepting the right of people to
take opium creates much discomfort.
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