Poway

At the end of the Yizkor Service last Saturday, I invited the congregation to join me in widening the scope of our prayerful focus as the cantor chanted the twenty-third psalm to include not just our co-religionists murdered while at prayer at the Har Nof synagogue in Jerusalem or in Pittsburgh, but also the members of other faiths who have been similarly killed in their own houses of worship. Foremost in my mind, obviously, were the dead in New Zealand and Sri Lanka. But I also had in mind those poor souls executed in Charleston in 2015 by an individual sufficiently depraved to have been capable of murdering people with whom he had just spent an hour—his victims’ last hour on earth—studying Scripture, as well as the twenty-six innocents murdered during Sunday prayers at the church in Sutherland Springs in Texas in 2017 and the six killed at the Sikh Temple in Oak Creek in Wisconsin in 2012. Little did I know that another such outrage would be perpetrated on the Pacific coast in California just a few hours after I was done addressing my own congregation as part of the same Yizkor service at which I was speaking. Or how personal it would feel to me—and neither because Poway is just an hour or so down the road from the town in California in which I used to live nor because Yom Hashoah just happened to be falling this week.

It’s hard to imagine a less likely place for an attack like that than Poway. It’s a quiet place, a suburban/rural community of fewer than 50,000 souls north of San Diego and south of Escondido off of Interstate 15. And although I’m sure many Californians—and certainly most Americans—couldn’t have said exactly where Poway was last Friday, it now joins Sutherland Springs or Oak Creek in our national roster of places people previously hadn’t heard of yet now speak about as though they’ve known where they were all their lives.

Nor was the storyline unfamiliar, at least as the police have pieced it together so far. A disaffected young man, in this case just a teenager, falls under the sway of white supremacist doctrine and concludes that his personal problems—and the problems of his fellow travelers—are being inflicted upon him and them by some identifiable group of others—in this case Jews, but the role also fillable, as we all know all too well, by black people, gay people, Hispanic people, Asian people, or any other recognizable minority. A manifesto—in this case really just a letter—detailing the specifics is composed and posted online or otherwise distributed to the media. And then the young man—almost never a woman although I’m not sure why exactly that is—gets his hands on the kind of gun that can kill a lot of people very quickly. The screed is posted. The die is cast. The killer gets into his car and drives to what he must realize could just as easily turn out to be the site of his own death as well as that of the people he is planning to make into his victims. And then he opens fire and kills none or one or some or many. (For a very interesting analysis posted on the Live Science website regarding the specific theories proposed to explain why so few women become mass killers, click here.)

The next part too feels almost scripted. The police issue a statement and open an investigation. The following day, the front page of America’s newspapers are filled with statements of outrage by public officials of various sorts. A day or a week later, there’s a follow-up piece about the victim’s funeral or the victims’ funerals. The nation shudders for a long moment, then moves on. Except for those who actually knew the victims, the matter dies down and eventually someone shoots up some other place and the cycle of outrage followed by getting over it begins anew. For most, the moving on part feels healthy. And it surely is so that the goal when someone we love or admire dies is precisely to move through the initial shock that almost inevitably comes upon us in the wake of unanticipated loss to a kind of resigned acceptance, and from there to true comfort rooted in a new reality. But can that concept rationally be applied to incidents like the murder of Lori Gilbert-Kaye in Poway last Shabbat?

What surprised me the most about the California shooting is how inevitable it all felt. Indeed, to a certain extent, it felt like we were watching yet another remake of a movie we’d all seen before. There were the expected presidential tweets lauding Rabbi Yisroel Goldstein, whom the President has surely never met, as (of all things) “a great guy.” And there was the expected tongue-clucking by the leaders of Congress and by the chief executive officers of every conceivable Jewish and non-Jewish organization, all of them decrying the fact that this kind of violence directed against houses of worship is slowly—and not that slowly either—taking its place next to school shootings and nightclub shootings and military base shootings and concert-venue shootings and movie theater shootings as part of our American mosaic, and that there doesn’t seem to be anything at all to do about it. The traditional debate about repealing the Second Amendment then ensues. Would such a move prevent this kind of incident? I doubt it—but it’s hardly worth debating, given that the chances of the Second Amendment being repealed in any of our lifetimes are exactly zero.

Last November, after the shooting in Pittsburgh, I wrote about a science experiment I recall from my tenth-grade biology class, one in which our teacher demonstrated that you can actually boil a frog alive without restraining it in any way if you only heat the water slowly enough for the rising temperature to remain unnoticed by the poor frog until it becomes paralyzed and thus unable to hop out of its petri dish to safety. (To revisit those comments, click here.) Is that where we Jewish Americans are, then, in an open-but-slowly-warming petri dish? It hardly feels that way to me…but, of course, it doesn’t feel that way to the frog either. And yet the degree to which we have all become inured to anti-Semitic slurs, including in mainstream media, makes me wonder if we shouldn’t be channeling that poor amphibian’s last thoughts a little more diligently these days.

Just last week, the New York Times published in its international edition a cartoon that could have come straight out of any Nazi newspaper in the 1930s. The cartoon, by a Portuguese cartoonist named António Moreira Antunes, was picked up by a service that the Times uses as a source for political cartoons and apparently approved for publication by a single editor whom the Times has not identified by name. Its publication too triggered a storm of outrage from all the familiar sources, but the response the whole sorry incident provoked in me personally was captured the most eloquently by Bret Stephens, himself an opinion columnist for the Times, who wrote that the cartoon—which features a Jewish dog with Benjamin Netanyahu’s face and wearing a big Star of David necklace leading a blind and obese Donald Trump whose ridiculous black kippah only underscores the extent to which he has become the unwitting slave of his wily Jewish dog-master—came to him (and to most, and surely to me personally) as “a shock but not a surprise.” To read Stephen’s piece, in which he goes on to describe in detail and to deplore his own newspaper’s “routine demonization of Netanyahu,” its “torrential criticism of Israel,” its “mainstreaming of anti-Zionism,” and its “longstanding Jewish problem, dating back to World War II,” click here. You won’t enjoy reading what he has to say. But you should read it anyway.

I’m guilty of unwarranted complacency myself, more than aware that I barely even notice untruths published online or in print about Jews or about Israel. After the Israeli election, for example, I lost track of how many opinion pieces I noticed interpreting the Netanyahu victory as a kind of death knell for the two-state solution. (One example would be the headline of the Daily, the daily New York Times podcast, for April 11: “Netanyahu Won. The Two-State Solution Lost.”) The clear implication is that the Palestinians will only have an independent state in the Middle East when Israel finally decides they can have one. But is that even remotely true? Palestine has been “recognized” by 136 out of the United Nations’ 193 member states. If the Palestinian leadership were to declare their independence today and invite the neighbors in (and not solely the Israelis, but the Jordanians and the Egyptians as well) to settle border issues, and then get down to the business of nation building, who could or would stand in their way? But the Palestinians have specifically not moved in that direction…and surely not because the Israelis haven’t permitted it. That much seems obvious to me, but how many times have I just let it go after seeing that specific notion promulgated as an obvious truth? Too many! Just as I haven’t always responded when I see other ridiculous claims intended solely to degrade Jews or Judaism or to deny historical reality. (When the Times published a piece by one of its own reporters, Eric V. Copage, a few weeks ago in which the author denied that Jesus of Nazareth had been a Jew and suggested instead that he must have been a Palestinian, presumably a Palestinian Arab, I didn’t run to my computer to point out that  there were no Palestinian Arabs in the first century C.E. since the Arab invasion of Palestine only took place six centuries after Jesus lived and died, granting myself the luxury of leaving that work to others. Many did speak up and a week later the Times published a “revised” version of the piece that omitted the offensive reference. But my point is that I personally should have spoken out and now feel embarrassed by my own silence.)

It’s true that the Times published a long self-excoriating editorial about the cartoon episode just this week in which it acknowledged its own responsibility for fomenting anti-Semitism among its readers. (Click here to read it.) That was satisfying to read, but it should remind us that the only useful way to respond to Poway is to resolve to speak out more loudly and more clearly when we see calumnies, lies, or libelous untruths in print about Israel or about the Jewish people…and not to just assume that other people will do the heavy lifting while we remain silent.