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High-profile Jews, Low-profile Judaism

By Rabbi Marc D. Angel

I recently saw an ad on TV featuring ex-Mayor Ed Koch of New York City. He, of course, is Jewish, and has always been vocal on behalf of Israel and Jewish issues in general. In the ad, he states that he recently had heart surgery at the New York Presbyterian Hospital, and has invited doctors and staff to a steak dinner at a fancy (non-kosher) steak restaurant. It has also been rumored that Mayor Koch has made arrangements (may he live and be well for many years) to be buried in the cemetery of Trinity Church in downtown New York City.

It is a free country and Mayor Koch has the right to make decisions as he sees fit. But I--and I suppose others--feel disappointed in Mayor Koch's decisions.

He is, after all, a visible and prominent Jew, clearly identified in the public mind as a Jew. He lives in New York where there are plenty of excellent kosher restaurants (not to mention Jewish hospitals), that would have benefitted from Mayor Koch's public endorsement. If a Jewish Mayor bypasses Jewish institutions and shows disdain for kashruth, who then will stand up for our Jewish interests?  If a Mayor with such a strong Jewish profile chooses to be buried in a Church cemetery, rather than in a Jewish cemetery, what does this say about his loyalty to the Jewish people and Jewish tradition?

Mayor Koch is surely a proud Jew--but just as surely is not very tied to Jewish religious tradition. He wants to be seen and remembered as being ecumenical, as being on friendly terms with all people. That is his choice.

I would prefer it if high-profile Jewish personalities would demonstrate loyalty and respect to Jewish religion and tradition. This would not and should not make them less popular with non-Jewish citizens, just as being a loyal Catholic or Protestant should not and does not detract from the popularity of members of those religious groups. One can be a loyal Jew, and a well-respected public figure. One can maintain public respect for the Sabbath, Jewish holidays, kashruth etc. without compromising his/her political integrity. Senator Joseph Lieberman became a candidate for Vice President of the United States, while maintaining his loyalties to Jewish religious laws and customs.

It irks me when I see Jewish officials disregard kashruth in public, hold press conferences on Shabbat and Jewish holidays, and generally function as though the Jewish religion doesn't exist for them. All sorts of excuses can be made on their behalf; but when all is said and done, it would be nice if Jews would be loyal and faithful--at least in public--to age-old Jewish practices.

If Jews don't show respect for Jewish tradition and Jewish communal endeavors, why should anyone else? On the other hand, if Jews proudly maintain Jewish traditions and support Jewish communal endeavors, they provide a real boost for Jewish self-respect. They bring pride to Judaism and the Jewish people.

 

Aaron_Uris's picture

Hi-profile Jews & Hi-profile Judaism are not mutually exclusive

Submitted by Aaron_Uris on February 17, 2010 - 12:19am.

I'm afraid Mayor Koch's disregard for kashrut and his decision to be buried in the Trinity Church cemetery will reflect poorly on his legacy as a brash and no-nonsense Jewish leader.

I'm always awestruck when a Jew fails to see the pillars of Jewishness (HaShem, Torah and the House of Israel), integrated and indispensable from one another, as the foundation which has sustained and will sustain us in order to carry out our mission on earth- "to be a nation of priests and a light onto nations"- irrespective of our individual paths...

Jewish pride derives from its eternal Sinai narrative- millennia past and millennia to come-of its faith and heritage based on this fundamental and indivisible foundation- and that Kashrut and Hilchot Shabbat, inter alia, are essential to the Sinai narrative. "Sinai" is the blueprint for our journey on earth, why we're here and what's required of us. Deviating from and/or being embarrassed by some of its integral components can only diminish a Jew's self-esteem.

Mayor Koch reminded me the following excerpts from This Is My God, by another high profile Jew, the legendary American Jewish author and playwright Herman Wouk.

"The Shabbat has cut most sharply athwart my own life when one of my plays has been in rehearsal or in tryout.

The crisis atmosphere of an attempt at Broadway is a legend of our time, and a true one; I have felt under less pressure going into battle at sea. Friday afternoon, during these rehearsals, inevitably seems to come when the project is tottering on the edge of ruin. I have sometimes felt guilty of treason, holding to the Shabbat in such a desperate situation. But then, experience has taught me that a theater enterprise almost always is in such a case. Sometimes it does totter to ruin, and sometimes it totters to great prosperity, but tottering is its normal gait, and cries of anguish are its normal tone of voice.

So I have reluctantly taken leave of my colleagues on Friday afternoon, and rejoined them on Saturday night. The play has never collapsed in the meantime. When I return I find it tottering as before, and the anguished cries as normally despairing as ever. My plays have encountered in the end both success and failure, but I cannot honestly ascribe either result to my observing the Shabbat.

Leaving the gloomy theater, the littered coffee cups, the jumbled scarred-up scripts, the haggard actors, the knuckle-gnawing producer, the clattering typewriter, and the dense, tobacco smoke has been a startling change, very like a brief return from the wars.

My wife and my boys, whose existence I have almost forgotten in the anxious shoring up of the tottering ruin, are waiting for me, dressed in holiday clothes, and looking to me marvelously attractive. We have sat down to a splendid dinner, at a table graced with flowers and the old Shabbat symbols: the burning candles, the twisted challah loaves, the stuffed fish, and my grandfather's silver goblet brimming with wine. I have blessed my boys with the ancient blessings; we have sung the pleasantly syncopated Shabbat table hymns.

The talk has little to do with tottering ruins. My wife and I have caught up with our week's conversation. The boys, knowing that Shabbat is the occasion for asking questions, have asked them. We talk of Judaism. For me it is a retreat into restorative magic.

Shabbat has passed much in the same manner. The boys are at home in the synagogue, and they like it. They like even more the assured presence of their parents. In the weekday press of schooling, household chores, and work -- and especially in play producing time -- it often happens that they see little of us. On Shabbat we are always there and they know it. They know too that I am not working and that my wife is at her ease. It is their day.

It is my day, too. The telephone is silent. I can think, read, study, walk or do nothing. It is an oasis of quiet. My producer one Saturday night said to me, "I don't envy you your religion, but I envy you your Shabbat."