Rabbi Charles P. Sherman
Jewish Book Month
December 17, 2004
A Pulpit Review of Home Lands: Portraits of the New Jewish Diaspora
by Larry Tye
I appreciate good writing and am, frankly, "turned off" by sloppy prose and mawkish sentimentality. "Home Lands" by Larry Tye is well-written. Mr. Tye is a long-time journalist for the Boston Globe; he's a pro.
I do not read for escapism or mere entertainment; I want to learn something from what I read. I learned a great deal from this volume. Tye writes about eight different Jewish communities in Germany, The Ukraine, Argentina, Ireland, France, America, and Israel. In each case he describes the history, particularly of a city: Dusseldorf, Germany; Dnepropetrovsk (Nepropetrofsk), a little known city in The Ukraine; Dublin, Ireland; Paris, Boston and Atlanta. Tye follows families in each of these communities so that we come to an understanding of the global through the personal, which I found a very engaging style.
My own primary concern in life is people, so I found this book particularly interesting because the history, the demography, the sociology – all of which are presented with sound scholarship – is detailed through the lives of people. And I am concerned with contemporary issues and challenges more than with events 100 -or 300 years ago. With each community, Tye introduces us to the current population, describes what appears to be going on – for example, in Dusseldorf – reviews the history of the Jewish community of Dusseldorf and Germany, and then comes back to analyze why things are as they are today, concluding with his take on the future.
As some of you know, I am a congenital optimist – the glass is almost always half-full for me, and I frankly do not like to watch movies or read books which are downers, especially if they feature a wringing of hands, expressions of abject helplessness. I look for the positive and so does Tye. This is a very optimistic reading of our times, and I resonate to that spirit of confidence and hope.
For some Jews, Larry Tye's very title is a tip-off to how controversial they will find this book. We all learned about THE Jewish Home Land. When I was 4-1/2 years old, the modern State of Israel was born. For virtually all of the life I remember, there has been an Israel. When I was nine to thirteen years old, I went to a cheder which was Zionist-oriented; these were the formative years of a fledgling state and student. I learned the Sephardic Hebrew pronunciation, because that was what the new-born state of Israel had adopted as its pronunciation. Hebrew was a living language because it was, once again, the language of the people of that old/new country, Israel. I learned to stand stiffly at attention for Hatikvah, and we sang it with all our hearts, thrilled to be at one with our brothers and sisters in Israel.
I grew up in the post-Holocaust years. My grandmother's nieces and nephews were now living in Israel, carrying on the branches of a family tree which had been butchered through the murders of her brothers in Hungary. For my Nanny, Israel represented survival, even resurrection, for part of our family. I have told some of you the stories of my helping wrap a package of used clothing every three months and schlepping it to the post office for my grandmother, who was sending it not to some strangers, but to her family in Israel. I grew up with blue and white pushkas, as did many of you, and practically every Tu Bishvat I planted trees in Israel for my parents' and grandmother's birthdays and anniversaries, because I was helping, literally, to replant and rebuild Eretz Yisrael.
At the same time, and I tell you this because I suspect that many of you have a similar background, I grew up with a deep love for this country. My father was a Patriot, with a capital "P." This country was home for our family, and always would be. While we cared deeply about Israel and contributed modestly but tangibly to the up-building of Israel, never did I hear it suggested in the home in which I grew up that one day we would actually relocate to Israel.
I knew from cheder the term "galut," which can be translated as "diaspora". But that was too big a word for a ten-year old. Galut meant exile, and exile I understood. We Jews were a people who for 1900 years had been exiled from our home. Intellectually, academically, I could understand that concept, but I never felt that Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania was galut. I grew up in Squirrel Hill, one of the most vibrant Jewish communities in North America. I went to a public elementary school that was 90% Jewish, and graduated from a high school which was 80% Jewish. I participated, as did all of my family, in a very healthy Jewish congregation and received a sound Jewish education.
During the last 25 years I have been truly blessed to be able to visit Israel on five different occasions. Each was a thrilling experience which I looked forward to and enjoyed, but never did I return from Israel to Tulsa, Oklahoma, and not believe that I was coming home.
Larry Tye helps us understand that the traditional and negative concept of diaspora (which means dispersion), galut, exile, is outdated. It describes a homogenous people uprooted and dispersed from their native land by unstoppable armies or irreversible social forces. It implies that Jews are in a state of waiting, of yearning to return to some idealized land where their ancestors flourished. The metaphor of a people longing to go home is compelling; but, in Tye's opinion, with which I fully concur, it is inaccurate today for us. My home is Tulsa, Oklahoma, USA, and I believe that is true for the overwhelming majority of the Jews I know here. That does not negate the importance of Israel. Rather it describes, in Tye's terms, "a hetergenous people who thrive in secular societies as far-flung as the former Soviet Union and Argentina, but who continue to embrace a core of beliefs and practices which defines them as Jews." After centuries of displacement, diaspora Jewry and Judaism is a people as well as a religion, a culture as well as an ethnicity. As Tye says, "it means that diaspora is no mere curiosity of history, but rather the reality of today and tomorrow", and it is "permanent and positive."
I agree whole-heartedly with Tye that the diaspora is here to stay. Jews can finally say that they have new homes and that these homes are secure in a world that for the first time is more promising than problematic for Jews. Yes, there are substantial threats posed by a slow shrinkage of the Jewish population outside of Israel, a concentration in fewer and fewer lands, a watering-down of belief and perhaps even an increase of hatred. Neither Tye nor Sherman suggests that we put our heads in the sand and ignore the challenges facing contemporary Jewry. But there are challenges confronting the Jews who will soon be half of the world's Jewish population living in Israel as well. The quality and strength of their Jewishness are also challenged.
The historic Zionist dream was that Israel would be the home for all of world Jewry. I believe that is unrealistic, and I believe even most Israelis recognize that today. Israel can be complete even if it is not the home to even the majority of the Jewish population, just as most diaspora Jews are coming to see themselves as complete, even if they do not make aliyah.
Tye writes – and this is what for some historic Zionists is going to seem like revolutionary stuff, but I believe is really not – "Eretz Yisrael will remain the nourishing center of Judaism, a place where diaspora Jews go for everything from replenishment to relaxation and research. But much as grown children do not have to live with their parents to maintain family ties, Jews need not immigrate to Israel to experience its lifeblood. And much as parents must acknowledge their children's self-worth to forge a lasting relationship, so too must Israel accept that diaspora Jews have something rich to offer in their own right." This is the new Jewish diaspora. Larry Tye's contribution is to present the story of this diaspora as a story of triumph, and that is the reason for the title "Home Lands: Portraits of the New Jewish Diaspora." I believe Tye is correct that we Jews living outside of Israel are forging a new partnership of equals with Israel.
I don't think there is any question that what Tye describes is correct, accurate. The question is – is this good for the Jews? It may be a reflection of a weakening of Jewish peoplehood; maybe that is why we are at home wherever we live. Maybe it is a disappointment with the 56-year old Israeli experiment not yet having yielded the equalitarian, creative society with a flourishing Judaism which we had prayed and hoped for. But that is not what Tye is saying. His thesis is that this new diaspora relationship with Israel is healthy and positive, and that the future is bright.
Tye attempts to prove that this is the case by examining varied communities, including some that are far-flung and which we don't ordinarily think about. Since there is no way that I can analyze them all with you tonight, let me use only one as an example. Reading is a personal experience, and one brings much of his or her own interests and priorities to a book. So let me share with you one of my concerns and why I am grateful to Larry Tye. I have long been one of those American Jews who has never had a desire to visit Germany. I have never owned a German-built car, and probably never will. (Please do not take that as a personal criticism if you drive a Volkswagon, Mercedes or BMW; we each have different values and priorities.) There is something in my psyche that does not permit me to consider a German car. And I may in fact one day visit Germany; I signed up several years ago for a rabbinic mission which got cancelled. A congregant whom I respect, over the past decade, has shared with me his contributions toward the rebuilding of the synagogue in his small home town in Germany. My own rabbi, Walter Jacob, whom I admire enormously, has worked tirelessly to establish a Liberal Jewish seminary in Germany, and some of my professors whose own families had to escape the Nazi butchers, are now offering courses at German universities and raising funds toward the rebuilding of Jewish cultural and educational institutions in Germany. I have found it hard to understand this phenomenon. At the same time, I have been reading in recent years that today Germany is the fastest growing Jewish community in the world. More Jews relocated to Germany last year and the year before than to Israel.
Tye entitles chapter one of his book "Dusseldorf: In the Land of the Murderers" and in just 45 pages helps us to understand the history of German Jewry and the phenomenon which is unfolding before our very eyes. "Being Jewish is quite simply high fashion in today's "Deutschland." The Jewish population of Germany today is more than 100,000. Why? Who are these Jews? The majority are not of German extraction, people returning to the land from which they were expelled or where their grandparents or parents lived, one of the most advanced Jewish societies of the 19th and early 20th centuries. The majority are Jews from the former Soviet Union, but there are also Israeli Jews who are making their home today in Germany. According to Tye, "German society and especially its political elite, know they are being judged by how they treat their Jews, which is one reason they made it a crime to print anti-Semitic literature or deny that the Holocaust happened. Jewish youth are excused from military service if a parent or grandparent was a victim of the Nazis or if serving would make it difficult to practice their religion." (Pages 51-52)
Germany has even modified the meaning of words in a bid to be sensitive to its Nazi past. Kristallnacht is now known as
Progromnacht to make clear that Jewish lives were smashed along with property the night in 1938 that the Brownshirts went on a rampage. Germany now has more Jewish studies programs than any nation outside Israel and America, and 80% of the students taking those courses are not Jewish. In Dusseldorf non-Jews account for a quarter of those attending Hebrew classes.
At the same time, Tye captures the painful ambivalence of many Jews in Germany. One said, "We are not sitting on packed suitcases any more. But there is a feeling that we are just here part time, that even if I stay my whole life, in the bottom of my heart this will not be the place where I die." Jews living in Germany, and many non-Jews too, are still haunted by the six million who perished and are gripped by shock that makes normal life nearly impossible, even after 60 years – or, maybe since it has been ONLY 60 years. Tye manages to capture this ambivalence in a profound and poignant manner.
We Tulsans can understand the challenge of negotiating our Jewish identity in the midst of a secular or Christian society which engulfs diaspora Jewish communities. Tye concludes, "I choose to remain an optimist without, I hope, being a Pollyanna. I believe that promising signs are just that: signs that give reason for real hope, in that they bespeak a vitality that those focusing on the bad news often miss. Appreciating the way young Jews and old are re-engaging, for instance, makes it easier to nurture those ties and build on them. The truth is that we have been counseled and cautioned repeatedly about the dreaded threats to our faith – from intermarriage to resurgent anti-Semitism – but the countervailing contradictory trends do not generate similar headlines or make their way as easily into books." (Page 6)
So what emerges is a scorecard of sorts on the state of world Judaism today. Each community is, of course, unique. But Larry Tye found signs of renewal and renaissance everywhere. He gives the reader a taste of today's diaspora and a flavor of tomorrow's. His is a confidence that a diaspora existence can be "compelling and fulfilling." As one reviewer characterized it, this book is "a persuasive argument on behalf of the diaspora's vitality."
I believe "Home Lands: Portraits of the New Jewish Diaspora" is a challenging argument for the essential duality of Jewish existence today. Half of world Jewry will soon live in Eretz Yisrael. We can be very proud of that half of the family, and we have responsibilities to continue to support and help them. We shall gain many benefits from a vibrant Jewish community in the historic Jewish homeland. But for the other half of world Jewry, where we live, work, rear our children and die will be our homeland. According to Tye, it is important for us to know that that homeland – whether it be Dusseldorf or Dublin or Buenos Aires or Tulsa, Oklahoma – can be a Jewishly vibrant, healthy home if we work hard and creatively to make it so. I highly recommend this provocative, insightful, and well-written account of Jewish homelands, and I pray that Larry Tye is right.
