A Greek filmmaker named Nancy Spetsioti produced a powerful short film. In the film a couple and their young daughter walk into a doctor’s waiting room. They all sit down when the mother notices that the little girl just seated herself next to a young man with darker features than the family members have. The mother switches seats with the girl. The father gives his seat to the mother and stands nearby, leaving the seat next to the young man empty. They look at at him suspiciously, he looks down awkwardly.
The family is told that the doctor is ready to see them and that he would also like the young man to come inside as well.
Scene from "Jafar," directed by Nancy Spetsioti
The family walks in, followed by the young man.
The doctor happily observes that the little girl looks strong and well following her surgery. And then he walks over to the young man, puts his arm around him, and says to the family, “Let me introduce you to Jafar. He is Anna’s bone marrow donor.”
Jafar smiles gently, the family look at him and at one another. The film ends.
I looked for reactions to the film on-line. One person wrote, he must be a Muslim. Another wrote, he’s Turkish, and a Greek family would consider him to be the enemy, untrustworthy.
The film appears to have been created to call into question the assumptions that we make about one another before we know each other well, or even at all.
I thought it would be worthwhile to explore the Jewish perspective on how we judge one another. What do we assume when we see someone? When we know, or think we know, something about the person's racial, cultural, ethnic identity and other aspects of his or her life?
We could jump straight to the rabbinic maxim, אל תסתכל בקנקן אלא במה שיש בו al tistakel b'kankan ela b'ma sheyesh bo. Don’t look at the container, look at what’s inside. We’ll get there, but not just yet.
Because actually, the Torah urges us to look at containers. The Israelites were told, after leaving Egypt, כמעשה ארץ מצרים אשר ישבתם בה לא תעשו khema’asei eretz mitzrayim asher yeshavtam ba lo ta’asu – don’t do what the Egyptians did – you were there for awhile, after all.
וכמעשה ארץ כנען אשר אני מביא אתכם שמה לא תעשו Ukhema’asei eretz kena’ani asher ani mevi etcham shama lo ta’asu – and don’t do what the Canaanites do. Canaan is where you’re headed, as you know.
Avoid what the Egyptians do. Avoid what the Canaanites do.
Extensive portions of the legal codes that the Israelites were given were based on a desire to separate the Israelites from outside influences. Don’t do what these people do; don’t do what those people do.
But I remember, as I’m sure you do, that the person who saved Moses’s life was Egyptian. And not just any Egyptian. The daughter of Pharoah. And of course there were the midwives who saved the lives of the Israelites’ babies, also, according to most interpretations, Egyptian. Without these Egyptians, no survival. No Exodus. No freedom.
How do we understand "don’t do what the Egyptians do" when there were courageous, kind Egyptians whose actions surely ought to serve as an example for others?
Elsewhere the Torah teaches, לא תתעב מצרי lo t’ta’eiv mitzri – do not hate Egyptians. Why? Because you were strangers in their land. Is this some kind of sarcastic response? Hey Egypt, thanks for the awesome hospitality! 5 star rating for the Raamses Inn!
Or does it reflect an awareness that there actually was kindness shown by Egyptians to Israelites such that it was important to recognize and not vilify an entire people?
We often generalize. What do the blacks think about this? What do the Jews think about that? As though an entire group moves in lockstep.
When I’m involved in interfaith work I’m occasionally asked by my colleagues of other faiths to address the Jewish opinion on this issue or that issue. And I say to my Christian colleagues, for example, before I do, please – take a minute to tell me what the Christians think about the issue.
Within the Jewish community we generalize about each other. Recently a colleague of mine, knowing I’m from Great Neck, asked me, about some particular issue, “What do the Persians think?” He was surprised to hear from me (and I’m not sure why) that there is a wide range of views on virtually every topic imaginable within the Persian Jewish community, as there is within the Jewish community overall.
Right now, ladies and gentlemen, we are performing quite a show for our neighbors. Those of other faiths within the Great Neck community are watching Jewish people accuse each other of all sorts of things based on generalizations.
You’ve heard it, you’ve read it. I’ve heard people say, “The Orthodox oppose public schools.” I’ve heard people say, “day school and yeshiva parents don’t support the public schools.” And other comments about a variety of groups.
The generalizations are news to the Orthodox families I’ve spoken with who support the budget and the bond. The generalizations are news to me, a parent who sent three children to day school, and who has described, in this forum, and on-line, and to anyone who will listen, why we need to fully support our outstanding public schools.
If you assume you know how someone will think or vote based on what group that person is affiliated with, or might be affiliated with, you will often be wrong.
Now – the main reason to avoid generalizations one Jew about another in this town isn’t because others are watching – I assure you, the people who are watching have their own shtick, their own conflicts, every group and every person does.
The main reason to avoid generalizations is because of the damage it does to the fabric of community – Jewish community, and community overall.
Judgment by generalization is damaging. It’s damaging because it often prevents deeper understanding. And deeper understanding is what builds strong community.
I don’t for a moment want to downplay the negative effects of some of what has been said and written in these past weeks. But I do want to say that in the spirit of crisis bringing opportunity, some of the negative vibes have already created positive opportunities for people of different backgrounds to understand each other more deeply.
We should go out of our way to try to achieve deeper understanding of people we imagined we knew.
To ask follow-up questions from one another. To apologize for misjudging one another.
I’ve had some good conversations with several of my rabbinic colleagues about these issues and it has helped to increase our understanding of one another.
Guess what. If rabbis can do this, you can do it too.
Reality is almost never as simple as we imagine.
I mean – what can be simpler than the notion that ultra-Orthodox/Haredi Jews in Israel don’t support Israeli society and institutions? But that doesn’t explain the thousands of ultra-Orthodox who now serve in the Israeli army, some of whom were killed defending eretz yisrael and remembered on Yom Hazikaron, Israel’s Memorial Day, in ceremonies organized by the ultra-Orthodox community.
What can be simpler than the understanding that Israeli Jews and Palestinians will always be enemies? But that doesn’t account for the thousands of Israeli Jews and Palestinians who gathered on Yom Hazikaron to mourn the deaths on both sides of the conflict and to say “enough is enough” and to voice their hope for peace.
And now back to Great Neck. What can be simpler than my group and your group here in Great Neck who oppose one another and always will – except that this doesn’t account for the many divergent viewpoints that exist within groups, within families, within individuals, actually, because individuals are complex and nuanced and we change and grow.
I will say that I have great hope for our community as a place with beautiful diversity, a place where increased understanding has created (and will continue to create) unexpected friendships, a marvelous place anchored (I can’t resist) by an outstanding public school system.
This morning’s Torah portion urges us לפני עור לא תתן מכשול lifnei iver lo titen mikhshol, not to place a stumbling block before the blind.
Usually the blind person is understood to be someone else – we’re being asked not to take advantage of a blind person, not to place impediments in front of him or her.
I suggest that we can look at this a little differently. Suppose the Torah wants us to consider that the blind person isn’t necessarily someone else. Maybe I am the blind person. Maybe you are the blind person.
Maybe we’re all being told that our vision isn’t always so good. That we need to remove the impediments that prevent us from seeing deeply and clearly.
Seeing, not just the kankan, the external, but ma she yesh bo. What’s inside.
I pray for, and I ask us to work toward, fewer impediments and deeper vision in the waiting room. In the supermarket. In the FB group. Deeper vision worldwide and in our own community. We’re capable of it. We deserve it.
The impact will be positive and lasting for us and future generations.
Originally shared with the Temple Israel of Great Neck community on May 6, 2017
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