Hanging together: A call for Jewish unity in divisive times

To say that we live in divisive times has become almost banal. Increasingly, accusatory, disparaging and often hateful speech is normalized and accommodated everywhere. During an election year, in a nation as manifold as the United States, such discord is to be expected to some degree, and is in fact part of what makes American political life so robust, so lively, so adaptable. But as an American Jew and Zionist, I am alarmed by the discord that’s crept into our own community, our families and our circles of trust. Beyond any and all longtime schisms based on denomination, or affiliation, or nation of origin, or domestic politics, or even strategic approach to achieving peace for Israel, it has gone so far in some quarters as to espouse the notion that some of us are not to be trusted or taken seriously in our support for Israel — if not in our very Jewish identities — based on whom we back in the upcoming presidential election.

Much of this comes from the Republican camp, with unsupported accusations that one’s opponent “hates Israel,” or more troublingly, that Americans who support the Democratic party are “bad Jews.” But while these comments may arise from an unfiltered bully pulpit, filtered down through a combination of right-wing media organizations and social media activity, such messages have gathered momentum and, ultimately, acceptance.

On the flip side, it also must be noted that calling an opportunistic xenophobe a “racist,” or a failed and wannabe tyrant a “fascist,” is not exactly adding to the level of the public debate.

It was from amidst this bipartisan muck and away from dueling media narratives and the echo chambers of Facebook, that I recently found myself blessed to step into a remarkable gathering of the local Jewish community that offered a glimmer of how things can and ought to be among us.
Last Thursday evening, at the inaugural Pittsburgh reception of StandWithUs, the international, nonpartisan educational organization that’s become such an important voice for our community and for Israel in recent years, the diversity of the crowd of 350 was on display — from Reform Jews like me to members of the Orthodox community, from college students to the elderly, from clergy to professionals, from public servants to homemakers. Even from beyond our own tribe, those in attendance included Christians like Pittsburgh City Controller Rachel Heisler, one of the evening’s honorees, and Hindus like former congressional candidate Bhavini Patel.

The crowd included both Harris and Trump supporters, along with more than a few likely sideliners, as well as the Netanyahu faithful and the holdouts for a two-state solution. Together, regardless of such differences, we mingled and noshed and listened and learned and applauded in common cause of our people and of our spiritual homeland, Israel.

Now, faced with specters as varied as rising Iranian influence in the Mideast, the persistence of homegrown anti-Israeli protestors and the proliferation of garden-variety Jew haters everywhere, we would do well as a community to seek out such common cause more often. This is not to say one should argue for others to vote as you do. What happens at the polls or on the mail-in ballot is a private matter and one based on various considerations, from family tradition to how one gauges his pocketbook will be impacted. And while my own choice may be clear based on
factors that include but go well beyond my Jewish Zionist identity — most notably, personal character — I’d no sooner tell another American whom to vote for than I’d ask a hunter to lay down his firearm or a Catholic to deny the sanctity of the human fetus.

As Jews, however, it’s vital to remember that we constitute a mere 2.4% of the U.S. population — some 7.5 million souls in a land of approximately 340 million. As Zionists, we’re a far smaller number. And at a time of rising hate all around us, how we perceive and talk to and about one another matters.

There’s a quote, long attributed to Benjamin Franklin at the signing of the Declaration of Independence, that seems particularly apt in this context: “We must, indeed, all hang together, or assuredly, we shall all hang separately.”

My fellow Jews, let’s hang together. PJC

Ben Wecht is an educator, writer, communications professional and musician living in Regent Square.