To be seen and heard?

Recently, I have been listening to a great book on the history of Judaism in America, which in particular highlights how the environment of religious freedom Jews found (and worked tirelessly to expand and improve) in the States shaped our nation's various forms of Judaism in very different ways than the forces of government interference that shaped the Jewry of most of the world. 

There are some really intriguing themes that emerge, such as a struggle of those who wanted European-style conformity to try to enforce it. Several times it seems that hard-to-come-by Torah scrolls were either lent to or withheld from particular worshipping communities as a way of showing where the "true" Judaism was! 

But another intriguing theme is the struggle to defend visible, public Judaism – the only kind that had heretofore been known – against the freedom to not express one's religion in public. While it seems that a good percentage of American Jews (in the century before the Civil War, at least) did the best they could to keep kosher and observe sabbath and the holidays in their home and synagogue life, the opportunity to actually be a fully accepted member of the wider culture was just too much of a temptation for many, if not most, Jews to make any effort to pass on pork if invited to a friend or neighbor's (or business associate's home), or to hold off on an important business dealing of a Saturday. 

In other words, when Jews finally had the political freedom to be as Jewish as they so chose, they often felt cultural pressure to downplay their religion in mixed company to show that they were also as American as everybody else. After all, who wants to rock the proverbial boat when they have finally found a place in the world where they are not just tolerated, but given increasingly equal status with their former oppressors?

The Civil War represented an important chapter in this story. Suddenly, even those Jews who had managed to live an insular Jewish life in the states found themselves serving cheek-by-jowl with evangelical and mainline Christians in military units or nursing brigades. Would they be able to maintain their Jewishness in the face of military conformity and under the stress of war? Would they get leave to celebrate Sabbath and Holidays? Their own chaplains?

What I found surprising is that the Confederacy was much more willing to recognize and legitimate Jewish religious needs on the battlefield than the Union, at least at first. Lee granted soldiers leave to celebrate holy days and even commissioned Rabbis as chaplains. The north was certainly willing to employ Jews as soldiers and officers, but would only allow "ministers of some Christian denomination" as chaplains - Rabbis, as I understand it, were not allowed access to the battlefield even to tend to the wounded and dying. 

It is no surprise, then, that northern rabbis often found that, when they were able to visit their parishioners, in hospital for example, many of those parishioners had so deeply hidden their Jewish identity that they would not even accept the gift of a pocket prayer book. And it is little more surprise that post-civil-war Jewish culture took the sharp turn toward public non-observance and only sporadic home or synagogue observance that American Judaism is still trying to recover from today. 

All of this brought me to thinking about my student the other day who was timid about admitting her Judaism, and who had converted to Christianity to please her husband. And I wondered how many other Jews I have known (outside of Boston, where it seemed the "in thing" to declare one's Jewishness) without ever knowing they were Jews. How many people will know me without knowing that I am becoming Jewish? 

Does it even matter? I asked myself. 

Why yes. Yes, it does.  

Because those civil war units in which Jews met other Jews ended up getting permission to have their own Sabbath services on Friday nights or Saturday mornings, their own Passover rites with matzah brought in from the nearest city, leave to attend Rosh HaShanah and Yom Kippur. There are many committed but timid folks out there, including myself this far to date, for whom it is only when our compatriots speak up to declare their right to be unique and different that we feel comfortable joining in. And every time I hear a salesperson describing the whole holiday season as "Christmas" and don't speak up, every time I hear a scholarship panelist describe a person as "very religious, by which I mean strongly Christian" and don't make sure that people know those words aren't actually synonyms - every time I let an assumption that I am Christian like everybody else slide, I make it that much harder for any other Jews in the New Testament Belt to speak up for themselves. I drive us all deeper underground when I don't stand up to be counted. (And I kill the English language more with each cliche I deliver, too)

So, what do I do? I'm not about to wear a star-of-David ball cap (if they make such things) to teach my classes, or pause at 2pm to lead a Hebrew prayer. But there must be something to do. At the very least, I need to start making sure I don't reinforce the everyone-is-Christian stereotype in my classroom and my public life, and stop being afraid to speak up and ask where the chanukkah decorations are if this really is a "holiday" display. *sigh* sounds like a lot of work!