My Very Jewish Weekends
Ellsworth Kelly’s Temple for Light, Photo Credit – Mindy Stern
On a recent Friday afternoon, car keys in hand, I kissed my husband goodbye and prepared to drive to a movie screening. A wave of worry suddenly overcame me. What if this were the last time we’d ever see each other? Walking back into the kitchen, I looked him in the eyes, and uttered three trite but true words, “I love you.” Smiling back at me, he replied, “Love you too.”
Satisfied that we’d parted on a warm note, I left.
Photo Credit: SJFF 2024
The movie screening was part of Seattle’s Jewish Film Festival lineup. The venue was “the J,” short for Jewish Community Center. The J, like nearly every Jewish school or house of worship in the United States, now employs full-time security, because synagogues and Jewish institutions are vandalized and attacked at alarming rates. Since the October 7th Hamas massacre, antisemitic incidents in the U.S. have risen by over 300%. Physical assault, vandalism, verbal and written harassment, and more. The Anti-Defamation League reports an alarming 34 incidents per day.
So, the first person you see as you approach the J is an armed, bullet-proof-vest-suited guard who’s on the payroll. To enter, you must pass through a metal detector, and your bag – if it contains any dense object – will be searched.
Jews are living in unsafe, scary times. There are only 3,700 synagogues in the whole country. But according to Secure Community Network, a nonprofit, which monitors acts of hate against American Jews, one out of four reported bomb threats in 2023. Unbelievable.
When I walk to my local library, I pass by at least three churches. Their properties are wide open spaces, exuding an aura of serenity. No combat-clad men here. But at Jewish houses of worship, congregants voluntarily undergo security training to supplement what the armed guard does. They patrol their facilities, and work with law enforcement, notifying them of harassment and potential threats.
Ellsworth Kelly’s Temple for Light, Photo Credit – Mindy Stern
A few weekends ago, I spent Shabbat with friends who live in a different part of town. One of them voluntarily completed security training for congregants of their synagogue. “How often do you all perceive threats?” I asked, innocently. His answer chilled me. “When we see people driving by slowly, throwing objects, yelling harassing things, or seemingly checking out the perimeter, we take it seriously. The police have a database, and if they’ve been identified by other Jewish institutions, the FBI gets involved.” Can you imagine?
Photo Credit – Mindy Stern
The following weekend, I was in Austin Texas, for a mini vacation with my husband, our son, and his partner. The four of us attended a stand-up comedy showcase featuring ten comedians. Though predominantly young, male, and white, the lineup included a sprinkling of women, African Americans, east coasters, a Bangladeshi Muslim, and one really old guy.
Riffing on topics including dating, sex, autism, parents, drunk driving, and more, their jokes varied from funny to cringey. They mostly stayed away from politics, but the audience - a sea of white male faces – gave big whoops for the occasional Biden-bashing and drunk driving jokes.
Photo Credit – Mindy Stern
I grew up at a time when comedians routinely joked about whole classes of people, especially those whom they deemed dumb: their wives, blondes in general, and people from Poland. Political correctness had not yet arrived. Today, those jokes wouldn’t fly. I was curious to see how our current sensibilities and sensitivities would influence the show.
This lineup of comics stayed away from jokes about Black people, gay people, people with mental disabilities, and Muslims. But they freely joked about three subjects: women’s bodies, Asians, and Jews.
It's considered bad form to heckle comics. I get it. They’re working hard to find the sweet spot between too-far, too-soon, and comic gold. What’s funny is highly subjective.
When the first joke was made about women’s bodies, I sat bolt upright and a sound came out of me, involuntarily. My son reached over to touch me lightly, an “are you OK?” kind of pat. I gave him a “don’t worry” nod, but my pulse was racing.
New comics took the stage, each one trying out new material. When they joked about women, Asians and Jews, I lost my @#%*. I hissed, I booed, and I made my displeasure known.
Why is it still OK to make fun of these three groups? Isn’t there enough comedy gold in just making fun of Texas, and leave some of the most vulnerable people in our society out of it?
Photo by Thomas Park on Unsplash