Op-Ed: Is Jewish Inferior?

We’re in one of the rooms in the Pediatrics Department at Downstate Medical Center. My brother, 16, was suffering from severe stomach pains, and our doctor sent him for some tests and rest until they’ll have it all figured out. I’m sitting beside his bed scribbling on the margins of a Sudoku book; he’s watching a video on my phone. While contemplating my future summer plans, an official looking guy – dressed casually, but definitely working for the Hospital – with a big smile walks in, and explaining that his job is to ensure that the Hospitals patients don’t fall behind in their studying for the upcoming high school Regents, asks if my brother will be needing any help.

At first, not wanting to sound like a fool, or worse, an ignoramus – I began explaining that my brother was actually ahead in his study schedule and that he would do just fine –it was no big deal, but apparently, the guy wasn’t buying it. There was no way out. I moved on to subtly suggest that we studied “different subjects, Jewish studies” and that none of the subjects he cited were even on our radar. He kept insisting that we shouldn’t hesitate to acquire his free services and that we will only benefit. At this point, I’m beginning to sense a hostility from the man. He knows we go to Yeshiva from the way we dress; he disregards my attempts at gently explaining that we really want to be left alone. It’s as if he’s trying to make us feel guilt or shame for ourselves. He’s questioning our educational judgment; we should not be allowed to ‘neglect’ our children the way we do.  Finally turning to leave, with an accusatory expression still on his face, he suggests we take a look at the library just down the hall.

This episode left me perturbed. It’s an uneasy feeling when you know you’re right, you know you have the answers, but get stuck when it counts. Why couldn’t I find the right words? More important, lacking courage, I knew, only meant that I lacked confidence in my answers – ones I needed to defend my choices and way of life. There must be a response so convincing and apparent that when spoken, will not merely brush off the questioner, but completely answer him, so that should I meet this guy again, he can smile back and feel comforted knowing that my brother and me are getting a world class education on par, if not surpassing, that of his own children.

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As a Crown Heights resident and community member these questions keep coming back to me. They occur rather frequently and in a varied number of areas and phenomena, but the same underlying point seems to stare back at me when trying to find answers. I wonder if I’m the only one, or if there are others. Maybe this is common knowledge and I missed the many op-eds and columns discussing it. I don’t know. This isn’t to judge anybody, just some food for thought and introspection, and maybe some perspective.

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Jewish brands aren’t our first choice in the supermarket. Let’s face it: Jewish brands of cornflakes don’t taste like Kelloggs, and our local coffee shops ain’t no Starbucks. Everything from cooking oil to the toothpaste we use, if it’s a Jewish brand, then it’s probably of lesser quality and lower safety standards. We are mindful of this qualitative difference when we shop, and our kitchen cabinets show for it. As for the many Jewish brands we do buy, they can usually be accounted for any of two reasons: there were no Kosher alternatives, or the price seemed to justify it.

No doubt these are accurate characterizations. However, there’s a gap between our perceptions and reality. Maybe I’m wrong, but I suspect there’s something else at play. Here are some questions – some Jewish food for thought: Is the qualitative difference so great as to justify the implicit inferiority of Jewish brands, and to render them objects of scorn and mockery? Does our perception of lower safety standards have evidential backing in reality? Is the difference in taste so great as to justify the dismissive attitude we possess? Is this our own little strain of bigotry – against our brands and establishments? Are our consumerist habits based solely on fact, or is there an illogical worship of the ‘other’ – a tinge of suspicion based on a ‘Guilty until proven innocent’ mentality?

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We adore Titles. Those cryptic letters that so eloquently flaunt accomplishments and establish credibility. Themselves only letters, it’s what they represent which we admire: breadth of knowledge, work ethic, professionalism, and often times, as by Doctors and Lawyers, a dedication to public service, which are behind the letters that is the reason they elicit our respect.

Despite their wide acclaim and high regard, the letters themselves have no inherent meaning or value; rather, they convey a message. They were created to make their bearers’ traits easily ascertainable, as well as to categorize their specific field of scholarship and expertise. Should there be a person of knowledge, trust and expertise who hasn’t been bestowed a Title, our respect for them should not lessen. Because some national organization or other arbitrarily designated certain letters to bear a given meaning does not cheapen those without them. One can possess great knowledge in a number of areas and therefore forfeit the coveted degree, which must categorize a single field of study. Alternatively, one can be a scholar in a specific field and yet remain ‘statusless’ because a title has yet to be created for that field.

Arguably, there aren’t individual fields of study. Learning is the study of reality; what was, what is, and what ought to be. Can one separate Philosophy from History or Politics from Economics? Surely not. If all studies of interrelated and inseparable, doesn’t it follow that there must be areas of study that fall in between –which cannot be categorized by any degree, because they cannot be defined?

If we don’t worship Titles but merely the meaning they convey, than we should apply that same metric to our Rabbonim, Dayanim and others. A typical Rov, were they in the secular world, would by any rational observation have advanced PhD’s by now. If not the equivalent, they far surpass any scholarly titles out there. That’s in addition to the three languages and ancient Aramaic texts every Rov must be fully acquainted with in their spoken and written form. If we will show them even half the respect we readily grant to accomplished scholars in the secular world there would be a marked change in our behavior.

Illustration not being necessary, there was a Yeshiva student in Poland before the war who left the way of Torah to attend university, and went on to became a leading scientist in his field. When asked to extoll the virtues of some of the great intellects he had the opportunity to study under, he quipped, “Every Rosh Yeshiva in Poland has a greater intellect than some of than some of respected scientists and professors of our time”.

Some suggest that it’s the political bickering that undermines the admiration they would have loved to show. To them I say they expect too much. Lawyers specialize in different areas of the law. No use asking a tax attorney to draft a Will or a corporate lawyer to settle custody of a child. Yet we expect our own to be constantly up to date on the latest intricate disputes and enunciations in all areas of Jewish law, while simultaneously lead a community. They are expected to lead in areas that aren’t on their turf (traditionally their responsibility, no doubt, but not a natural fit nonetheless). This includes resolving disputes, galvanizing support for various causes, solving poverty and housing problems, and in general keeping the community united, positive, and Frum.

On top of all that, they must keep track of all the political maneuverings, including some of the lowest forms, so they don’t sign the wrong paper and get sucked into someone’s personal feud in which they should never have been involved. And all this we expect from a scholar who’s primary talent and temperament is one of study and servitude and more study. Then, when they fail in the eyes of someone or other, they are derided, ridiculed, and made the talk of town. Such is their onerous burden, and our unforgiving demands.

Yet, predictably, we don’t respect them. Not merely because of perceived failures, or lack of leadership – all of that maybe true, but happens afterward, rather, we don’t give the proper respect when they come in to the job. They must prove themselves to earn our respect, we say, not the other way around. That is not only wrong but also completely unrealistic and impractical. How can they possibly succeed without our initial respect? But perhaps more important, at least for the purposes of our discussion – why do their previous accomplishments and great scholarship not garner our respect? Why do we apply a ‘guilty until proven innocent’ outlook as the default position until they convince us otherwise? Should a Professor at Harvard mysteriously decide to drop his life and come settle in our community to devote his energy exclusively to solving our issues – would we not, at least at the outset, celebrate his decision, admire his selflessness, and resolve to cooperate fully to the extent we possibly can? Would we not decry and obliterate those who, before his arrival, already make clear their intentions to impede and thwart all his efforts?

Do we project a bias against our own? Do we idealize everything secular as being more legitimate than our own? Before appealing to the Holiness of the Torah and it’s eternal Truth – can we not afford OUR studies at least the same basic respect we exhibit towards secular studies?

There’s a story told (the gist of which is presented here, though the details may vary) of a secularized family who entered the Rebbe’s room for Yechidus (presumably in the 50s or 60s). The Rebbe was persuading the parents to send their young child to a Yeshiva, rather than a Public School. Finally, the mother remarked, “but my child won’t know about Shakespeare!” to which the Rebbe replied, “and what’s wrong with Rava?”

One can interpret the story in many ways, but the parents not being Frum implies that the Rebbe was not denigrating Shakespeare and his ilk, and by extension secular studies in general, as a waste of time, rather, that we have our own, L’havdil, ‘Shakespeare’ who is at least as good, if not better. Why study the ‘great men’ celebrated in the contemporary world when we have our own?

The United States has come a long way from the marching students’ chanting “Hey Hey, Ho Ho, Western Civ Has Got to Go” of the early 80s to the A.C.B.W. (Any Culture But Western) Studies culture of today. WithAfrican American Studies,Asian American Studies, Raza Studies, Chicano Studies, and Native American Studies, and others all being accepted and respectable disciplines, perhaps the ‘Jewish Studies’ taught in our Yeshivos can be as well.

Similarly, there’s another class of people whom we fail to adequately respect for their efforts, if at all. These are, of course, are our own dearest children.

We don’t respect what they learn. Let’s be honest: they’re ‘Batlonim’, they’re not making anything of themselves, and we don’t entirely comprehend what they do all day, anyway. We don’t perceive what they do as being ‘concrete’ in the sense that they’ll have something solid to hold up and show for their work. When they come home for Yom Tov, We cannot appreciate what they did all those months partly because we don’t have any inkling about the subjects they’re learning. Bochurim aren’t learning Chumash or Navie anymore – it’s Baba Metzia, Gittin, and Samach Vov.

In the larger scheme of things, however, these are merely symptoms of a deeper, all pervasive perversion. Putting aside the students who are busily studying to be future doctors, professors, or engineers – what of the student of ancient Greek language and countless others for whom studies won’t make big bucks and there are scarcely jobs in existence, let alone to be filled, and for whom, nevertheless, we retain the greatest respect. We admire students for their effort and perseverance, and applaud their eruditious spirit and scholarly dispositions – they’re striving for the abstract. The mere act of deep learning is what we respect, regardless of the practical uses or future prospects they may make of it.This universal respect for those dedicating themselves to study shatters when it comes to our institutions. But why?

Our boys, whether we acknowledge it or not, are from the best anywhere. The level of critical thinking and abstract thought our boys are mastering rival only some of the top-tiered Law Schools in the country. Many of them enjoy reading scholarly journals as a pastime, from the wide assortment scattered about in our Shuls.  The community organizing skills encouraged upon them in their free time is a treasure of talent and abilities that would be embraced and triumphantly celebrated in other communities, if given the opportunity. And yet – why don’t we respect our own? Do we not accept that our boys spend many long hours mastering complex theorem? or are we blind sighted to the facts due to some other underlying component? How much respect and support would we give them if they were studying in a nationally recognized University?

Adversely, if we truly believe that our institutions are inferior to others of higher learning, it may be time for a conversation on causation and root-causes. Our method of teaching and system of learning are quite superior when done right. Our system has no component that inherently ‘dumbs-down’ the rigor or diminishes the quality of the learning. Can it be a snide remark or dismissive gesture which saw the seeds of derision and non-worthiness towards our institutions? What came first, the chicken or the egg?

Underlying all of these may be an inferiority complex that has long been part of the Jewish psyche. We naturally and almost invariably take for granted that anything ‘Us’ – Jewish is somehow not ‘official’ and therefore inferior to widely respected norms. We don’t grant ourselves the basic dignities and premises taken for granted by others.

There are many other examples of instances where we irrationally prefer anything from the ‘legitimate’ outside world over our own, facts and evidence notwithstanding. The two examples listed are only two of the most common kind, but there are countless more in our own lives and little worlds. It’s an attitude that’s constant and pervasive and we often forget how odd it really is.

Often times when a logical response eludes, it simply means that I’m accepting a foreign premise that I need to shatter and be free of.  The answer then comes shining through as so obviously apparent; like it’s always been there just waiting for the clouds to part so it’s brilliant rays can shine forth and brighten us with its clarity and wisdom.

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Back to the Hospital and the overly helpful learning advocate’s accusatory gaze. Next time I’m asked the question I’ll know the right answer, namely, that everything they have to offer has no parity with our Divine mission in this world. But trying to be polite and convincing, I’ll confidently and unabashedly respond: “our children go to especially advanced schools with high standards and rigorous expectations, and the notoriously bureaucratic people at the Department of Education haven’t yet completed developing the Regents for our very demanding studies.”