April 23, 2016

As Passover Begins, Empathy, Redemption, Complex Realities in Fiction and Life

Posted in Interfaith, Judaism, Pop Culture at 12:48 am by chavalah

Crossing the Red Sea

Crossing the Red Sea

Somewhat recently, my favorite Game of Thrones/A Song of Ice and Fire commentator disappointed me with a condescending, simple-minded real-world analogy. Perhaps I should unpack the first part of that statement before I continue, because in general I am very wary of most Game of Thrones/ASOIAF commentary. It’s very easy to dismiss the entire franchise, as one of the actors on the show put it, as just “tits and dragons.” You choose a House or a favorite “badass” character, and generally disparage anyone who isn’t on that team. But my favorite commentator sees the characters and their situations as I do, as flawed and complicated, worthy of nuanced critique and consideration.

Then, fast forward to the real world, where on social media, said commentator made an Israel-to-Nazi-Germany comparison. *sigh*

Don’t get me wrong; I suck in the real world, too. When reading fiction, I pride myself on feeling empathy for (almost) all characters who cross my path. On the metro, if you’re being an annoying asshat, I wanna slap your face. Who knows; maybe you’re in the middle of a debilitating illness or family crisis; I don’t give a shit. Just sit down and shut up. Of course, I’m not castigating entire groups of people, either.

There’s a lot that’s offensive about the Israel/Nazi comparison; I’ll stick to a few. The condescending nature of it, for one thing. This isn’t about thoroughly assessing policy failures, this is about shaking a finger at a country built, in part, on the backs of Shoah survivors. How could you, victims of genocide, do the same to others?

“Genocide,” perhaps, has become too ubiquitous a term. Like comparing anyone you dislike to Hitler, the term “genocide” seems most often, today, to denote any ethnic conflict. So, anecdote time. Thanks to my library job, I come across my fair share of books. Recently, I flipped through this one, which probes the issue of Native American genocide in the wake of European expansion and colonialism. Author Alex Alvarez posits that there were too many individual points of contact between tribes and Europeans throughout the years to slap that label on the monolithic whole. It got me to thinking how limited the term genocide is, and how it teaches us to think of “Native Americans” as one group of people rather than differentiated tribes. (This is also one of the biggest failings in U.S. education, at least from my experience.)

So many people want to divide the world into white hats and black hats, and for some reason, the Israeli/Palestinian conflict seems to take the brunt of that. I came across another book on the job later—a memoir by an Israeli peace activist, with a forward by Alice Walker. Unsurprisingly, she highlighted several Israeli injustices while pointedly ignoring Palestinian ones (extremists on both sides do this.) What floored me the most was that at the very end, she dedicated the book to the suicide bomber who killed the activist’s niece in Jerusalem. So she can have empathy for the Palestinian who deliberately targeted civilians, but not the Israelis who want to protect their people. There’s an astounding blindness to her assessment that I grapple with—it humbles me. I can see Walker’s blindness, of course. But we all have our blind spots, our inherent bigotries. Something to look out for.

Maybe this is part of the reason that I don’t see the Passover story as a simple morality tale. On it’s surface, the oppressors are punished and the oppressed set free. And I’m not denying the joy of escaping bondage, of creating a community despite outside violence. Surely Jews have had to deal with these issues throughout recorded history as well. In the Seder, we take drops of wine from our cups to acknowledge the cost of the ten plagues, and I’ve heard of traditions of a moment of silence for the Egyptian militia who lost their lives in the Red Sea. Everyone has an inherent humanity.

Another more modern (and controversial in some circles) Passover tradition is to equate Jewish liberation from Egypt to other forms of liberation—from Emancipation in the U.S. to the nationwide legalization of gay marriage, etc. It’s important to realize a universality in life, I believe. Every ethnic group of people has both been the oppressor and the oppressed. Actions can be good or evil, but people throughout history are not white hats or black hats.

To end with, I’ve found new commentators about Israel and the real world, via The Promised Podcast. Their Israeli leftist perspective seems to eschew the extremist opinions that I alluded to above, and it describes a complex society.


PS: Taking a page from some of my favorite online columns, I’m adding unrelated material in separate blog sections. 😛 But continuing with this post, I’ve found another Jewish-themed fantasy novel! Check out King of Shards by Matthew Kressel…it’s on my TBR, so I should get to it eventually! 😛


PPS: Because I can’t let my love of The Hunger Games franchise die…and it’s also, in essence, a story about a redemption from a type of bondage. Katniss, like Moses, ultimately can’t enter the new “Promised Land.” The reasons for their individual exiles are very different, but it gets me to thinking about how the prophet/leaders in a time of turmoil can’t really foot the bill during peacetime. The Israelites had the tools to start their new community in the homeland. As for Katniss, does anyone really wanna see the Mockingjay on tv, intoning “Fire is catching…now go pay your taxes!”? 😛

Several months ago on booktube, I listened to a reader express dismay that there wasn’t a “place” for Katniss in the society that she helped to usher in. But I think this is a fundamental misreading of her character. Katniss never wanted to be a “badass” leader in the public spotlight. She wanted a simple, anonymous little life. Makes her more human.

Chag Sameach.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: