Given the ubiquitous tolling of church bells, the public spaces swept by Christmas music, the decorations, the stores open late at night on Christmas Eve, and the “good news” on the Christmas Morning Front Page concerning the Senate’s passing of health care reform, this may be a moment in which it is worth reflecting on what it means to be Jewish and, in particular, what it means to be a Jewish intellectual, recognizing that intellectuality is one of the most pronounced traits of the Jewish people.

To be Jewish means to be in the minority. It means to oppose the overall consensus and to hold on to certain principles against a dominant consensus, the common sense of one’s time, the overwhelming pressure of public opinion, the group. It is interesting that when Jews go to Synagogue or celebrate together they mark such foundational moments of Jewish history as the Covenant between God and Abraham, and the exodus from Egypt, but they neglect another moment, which was of nearly comparable importance, namely the Jewish rejection of Christ’s message.

That rejection was not an easy one. Jesus, after all, was no alien bringing in a foreign religion. He was a Rabbi, preaching not the foundation of a new religion, but the realization of Judaism. Furthermore, the intellectual and emotional, not to mention religious, character of his teaching was not so easy to dismiss. To this day, such arguments as that love and mercy trump justice, or that a truly universal creed must burst the integument of community, retain their force. Any Jew who does not take Christ seriously as one of the greatest of all Jewish thinkers has not reckoned deeply enough with the problem of being Jewish.

Yet the Jews rejected the “good news” that Christ and his followers brought. They did so not for riches or prestige or most forms of emotional satisfaction, for their rejection brought none of that. They did so, because they felt they had a better idea: the individual’s direct, personal, one-to-one, relation to God, not mediated by God’s son-messenger or a Church, and loyalty to an ethically-defined, particularistic community. This rejection, almost as much as the Exodus, gave the Jews their character, often described as stubborn, stiff-necked, and negationist. But it also helped consolidate the great Jewish tradition, which goes back to the ban on graven images, of thinking. When modernity brought the freethinking intellectual to the forefront of social life, the Jews were well prepared to take advantage of that opportunity.

I write this as a Jewish intellectual who has rejected the “good news” of Obama’s coming in general, and of the health care bill in particular. This does not mean that I would have voted against the bill; on the contrary, I would have voted for it. But unlike another Jewish intellectual — one who for years exemplified stiff-necked resistance — namely Paul Krugman, I am not yet ready to celebrate. I prefer to keep thinking. And what I am thinking is that the Obama administration continues the more or less perfect merger of corporate interests and party interests which the Democrats pioneered in the 80s, in good part with the help of Jewish Neo-Cons and New Democrats who see the relation of Judaism and the dominant majority differently than me.


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