Skippy, I was so sad to read what you wrote. First I will say that I strongly disagree that we are "a people without compassion for others." I'd like to share a bit of my journey if you're open to listening, as I have expressed some of the things you've said in the past five years and reflected a lot on this subject.

I'm sorry that you had that experience with your rabbi; I too have had encounters with more than a few rabbis with whom I've been extremely disappointed--particularly when it comes to matters of justice and compassion for others. And yet, I've also met people like the rabbi I met at an IfNotNow protest of all things! An organization which now I think we are both supremely disgusted with, but back in 2016 we were passionately out there in Seattle together, chatting and chanting about the mistreatment of Palestinians (which we are both still on board with) and the selfish actions of AIPAC cozying up to the Trump administration that was harming so many minorities and vulnerable people in the US.

Actually, meeting that Rabbi at that protest was an inflection point for me; I didn't even realize there were rabbis that were enmeshed in social justice, that were using their platforms to proactively discuss anti-racism, unpacking sexism, homophobia and transphobia, etc. The fact of the matter is, there's all kinds of rabbis in Judaism, just like there are all kinds of leaders in any avenue of identity or faith or being anywhere in humanity.

And to me, what particularly resonated about the Rabbi's words and actions (I had actually met her many years before when she was assisting my rabbi for a few years before taking up work in her own synagogue--she was always a badass, radical lady) was how sincere she is; there was no concern about "appearances." She lives in the spirit of truth and love and integrity and compassion, through and through. I think it's really hard when we're used to having authority figures (in Judaism especially because it's so intimately a part of who we are from our inception, but also in culture at large) meet and guide expectations about how to "be" in an exemplary way--and when that doesn't get met, especially when it reflects something back to us that we are insecure about or disappointed by, it feels heartbreaking.

I moved away from Judaism for several years out of disgust and disappointment for what I perceived as a lack of concern for other people outside of ourselves. Many of the words you used, including the ones you edited (which, truthfully, were unsettling, and not in a productive way). I agree with you that love involves criticism, and having the grace to hold ourselves accountable and allow for growth. When I left Judaism, I was leaving a "liberal" community that I still felt judged by when I came out; I was feeling alienated by years of misogyny, and annoyed by what I sensed as a lot of privilege and willful ignorance, especially as it pertained to matters of racism.

It took me a lot of reflection, therapy and several life-changing events to really contend with this. I grew up in a relatively economically privileged Jewish community; this is an image I projected onto ALL Jews until I dated someone from New York who grew up in a very impoverished and abusive home. He lived in a Jewish and Black neighborhood and was Israeli/Middle-Eastern and looked very Arab. While that experience was overarchingly extremely negative, it challenged a lot of my preconceptions about Jews and wealth, and when I met my fiance, a Jewish non-binary person from Detroit who was working at the grocery store in Seattle and also comes from a poor family, I was further disabused of this notion that all Jews have the same fantastical moneyed background that I assumed everyone did.

In fact, the more I reflected, the more I recalled the dysfunctional dynamics of my reform/conservative Jewish community, brought together by youth groups and summer camp across Oregon and Washington, and the number of people who were living in poverty and were often made to feel inadequate because of how many wealthier Jews there were spread across Portland and Seattle in particular. I'm not excusing the deeply classist and competitive nature of how these dynamics played out and how it made a lot of Jews in the community feel, but the reality is, I spent many years blaming classism on Jews when this dynamic was equally reflected in mainstream society at the same time.

This may seem oddly specific and may not even fully resonate, but I recall in middle school the importance of owning a Dooney & Burke ugly monogrammed designer bag--it was the ultimate bat mitzvah dream gift, next to a Tiffany's charm bracelet. The poor Jews were less likely to ever receive and parade such luxuries, and it was a thing (just as they were less likely to own the prized Ugg boots, Juicy Couture sweatsuits and other mid-2000s abominations). There was so much shame wrapped up in the inability to participate in gross consumerism; but the fact remains, the exact same dynamic was playing out in my vaaast majority non-Jewish middle school on a daily basis. Sometimes much worse!

So why is it that in my mind I've blamed all of the things that I've seen reflected, probably *originating* in society onto Judaism? When I couldn't meet the demands of the superficial optics of success that I felt my Jewish family wanted of me (cue a New York voice saying "you should be a doctor or a lawyer!"), I blamed Judaism. When I had abuse and dysfunction in my own family, I blamed Judaism. When I hated myself and wanted to die, I blamed Judaism. Why is that?

What I have come to, again, after a lot of painful reflection and therapy, but more than anything, after the healing relationship I have with a Jewish person who happens to be the most compassionate, accepting, sensitive and wise person I've ever met, I realized what's at stake when you are part of an *ETHNO*religion.

I could leave Judaism from a religious point of view, but it will always be in my genes. It's in my nose, my hair, my darker skin. Maybe most people who encounter me won't be able to place me, they might ask if I'm Latinx, half Black or Persian, but nothing will ever change that I'm entirely Jewish. And even if the genes weren't coursing through my veins, I grew up with the ideology that has informed so much of who I am and what my values are. We have so much guilt--I can see even you have internalized much of this (we're not so different from Catholics in that way, huh?). But we also have a beautiful capacity for transmuting guilt into humor in a profoundly unique way. Hence, the timeless joy of Seinfeld.

I spent 6 years organizing hardcore in Indigenous-led environmentalist organizations combating environmental racism, following local Black Lives Matter orgs and protests in Seattle, and working with all kinds of people, including many, many, many Jews to make the world a better, more beautiful place. I see in your bio that you are retired so I'm going to assume you're at least above the age of 50. I know even both of my parents, who I would classify as very traditionally neoliberal, were once incredibly radical in the 60s and 70s; I think the disappointment and even the subconscious but willful participation in the destruction of much of the progress or illusion of progress that was gained with the tumult of the Reagan years and beyond is more than enough to make one cynical (often called "practical") about the state of humanity or the failure of one's generation/peers. But I don't think this is a fair outlook.

As I've read countless works by people like Bryan Stevenson and people like Shaka Senghor (a Black man who wrote an exquisite book called "Writing My Wrongs" about his experience reforming his life after being involved in gang activity as a kid and killing a man when he was 18), and I realized in my years of education about social justice/mass incarceration/the punitive, unforgiving nature of this society how little forgiveness and grace we give ANYONE, but especially people of color. I think in my progression as an activist, I sort of slingshotted in the opposite direction by adopting a mentality that all people of color must be forgiven for any and all transgressions or harm, because they are facing such deep systemic oppression.

I'm less squarely in that camp now--I still firmly reject the death penalty (I wrote an article about that a few years ago you can see in my profile), believe that there needs to be rehabilitation instead of prison, and don't believe that policing as it exists now will ever solve anything or stop terrorizing communities of color. But I also believe there's no use in coddling people, including POC if we want to achieve meaningful accountability and compassion. But between being there and where I am now, I realized I was still omitting Jews from the spectrum of those who "deserved" compassion and grace.

The fact of the matter is, in the many years that I have been involved in activism, I have also been very entrenched in meditation/spirituality/neuroscience research; if you have never heard of "epigenetics," it is a fascinating field of neuroscience that has emerged over the last 15 years, which determines how events from our parents and grandparents and recent relative's lives literally effects the expression of our genes. It's also referred to as generational trauma. And guess what: Jews have got a lot of it!

It's important to remember that Jews are not a monolith--not only are there many, many Asian/Black/Latinx/Native American Jews from generational intermarriages, there are also Ethiopian Jews who have archaically distinct Jewish DNA (this was one of the ancient 12 tribes of Judea); most of the Jews in Israel are Sephardic/Yemenite/Mizrahi/Indian Jews and otherwise visibly Jews of color. And for the Ashkenazim, there are still many people like me, who despite qualifying as "European" (even though we were forced into Europe through violent expulsions that prompted diaspora and were always persecuted and on the margins in every place we landed), have never even appeared European. And even the Jews who would qualify as "white" by today's American standards were never white enough to not be genocided.

As a reminder, the Holocaust happened only about 75 years ago. Many of us have parents or grandparents who remember it well. And let me say, that shit does not go away. Half our population was erased in less than a lifetime, and we are already expecting ourselves either to move on, and/or to be pinnacles of compassion precisely because of this unspeakable violence that has happened to our people. I don't know why so many of us can look at the difficult circumstances and trauma of people of color in America and have compassion for what could be perceived as un-compassionate behavior, but never allow this for ourselves.

Even the calmest among us will remember and fear the Holocaust. This is perhaps especially salient in those who have distanced themselves from Judaism from a religious point of view; a lot of anti-Zionist Jews I know are constantly trying to prove their moral superiority and protect the external perceptions of sanctity or acceptability by pretending through some revisionist history that our religion and history and genealogy has nothing to do with the Middle East. People across time and space have heeded to these same pressures of assimilation, even if under different circumstances (many Indigenous and Black Americans have long been converts to Christianity).

I don't know any other group of people that exclusively gets held to the "worst" of their people (except for perhaps Muslims, who, in the eyes of bigots will always be conflated with Jihadists) the way that Jews do--especially TO ourselves. My family member said something horrific and celebratory about the Hasidic Jews who were stampeded in Israel earlier this year. He's so ashamed of them because they're so bigoted and fundamentalist. And yet, I teared up when I heard him say that because I could sense how that shame was really about himself. As a secular, non-practicing Jew, those people remind him of who he is in a way that he doesn't want to accept anymore. And maybe that really isn't who he is. But it will always be a part of his story, and no amount of shame or erasure or violent self-loathing will erase that. Only peace can do that.

I am not suggesting that YOUR experience with other Jews hasn't been disappointing with regards to some perceived lack of activism or accountability in terms of anti-racism, fighting capitalism, or any of the other ills that plague American society today. But it's really important to remember, in matters of antisemitism, just as in any matter of racism, classism, homophobia, etc etc that ANECDOTAL experience is not representative of a larger, factual picture. Your suggestion that Jews don't care about other people who are not Jews erases not just people like me and the many Jewish activists who have been on the frontlines of BLM and other causes in the past 10 years, but the generations of Jewish activists who were there marching side-by-side with Black people for equal rights, fighting and leading in labor unions, and teaching freed slaves even in the 1800s. No group of people is a monolith, and it's crucial not to let your disappointment (and hope) eclipse the rich and beautiful history of your people as well. You can be critical AND hold space for the full reality of what's here, even if it's not the one that's right in front of you 24/7.

Jews have trauma just like everybody else. The "model minority" myth that has plagued Jews and Asian people alike is a manifestation of deep internalized inadequacy, and a traumatic need to assimilate in order to find safety. We have been a stateless, wandering people for over a thousand years (until 1948) and we have seen pain and persecution and rejection and death everywhere we've been. Even as you now reject Judaism, this reality, this fear, this awareness lives in every layer of your being, and you cannot escape it. And you certainly can't diminish it with self-hatred.

And I believe you that you love us; but to say we "deserve" to be hated and harmed because of your perception that we haven't done "enough" for other groups of people is an undeniable projection of internalized antisemitism. That is not a bad or a unique thing; most people from minorities and indeed most people in general who don't meet some version of "perfection" mandated by society internalize shame about their perceived inadequacy stemming from being an "other."

But again, blaming us, shaming us, hating us, telling us we deserve whatever ill fate falls upon is, is never going to mobilize Jews. It only causes further dissociation from our identities. And again, you can't run away from who we are. We are dealing with the same fear, self-loathing, inability to fit in or feel completely safe or be "enough" that any other marginalized person in this society is right now. ***Of course, Jewish people who aren't Black aren't at the same immediate risk of being shot by cops, but there are many, many people (myself included) who are constantly terrified of identifying themselves visibly as Jews. There's a reason so few of us feel safe wearing our Magen Davids, or wearing a talit or kippah in public. There are attacks happening almost every day to those who do. There's a reason why most people who do identify visibly as Jewish swarm into fairly homogeneous orthodox/conservative or densely Jewish communities. No, it's not the same thing as being Black since you can take off a kippah, but again, the complexity of Judaism is that when we "out" ourselves as Jews, for most of us that goes beyond faith--it is our DNA.

We deserve compassion. There can be compassion AND accountability. Trauma is not a precondition for becoming a "higher being" that requires one to perform grand compassion all the time. Most of us humans, including Jews, are doing the best we can, and we are flawed. And that is okay. It's beautiful and it's disappointing and it's the human condition. I don't think it's wrong for Jews to feel more comfortable around Jews, and I see it as a sort of chicken/egg that many Jews don't feel supported by other marginalized groups, so they don't necessarily want to go out on a limb to support them either. I don't think that's the best way to be, but I know that holding people accountable will always still mean holding space for other people's journeys and not trying to claim them or control them as your own. Your disappointment can be valid without you taking on the role of arbiter as to whether or not Jews who aren't on the frontlines "deserve" any modicum of compassion or peace. Of course, you're entitled to your opinions and feelings, but some of those should maybe be examined a bit further.

I volunteered for two years in a women's domestic violence shelter with a Jewish woman who has worked for years making almost no money, helping out homeless communities mostly of color facing serious abuse and police brutality. She shines and she is a beacon of joy, and lives a modest lifestyle as a social worker, but it's a life that is so clearly authentic to who she is and how she best operates in this world. And I know wealthy Jews working in corporations who give a lot of money to important causes (not that most people would know or see that), but it's just not who they are to be protesting or writing articles or fighting about social justice. The socialist in me sees that as very neoliberal, but my higher self sees that as the reality that most of us do care, but we express it in different ways because we all have different fears and expressions and identities and again, that is not a Jewish flaw, it's the human condition.

Lastly, if you were referring negatively to the words "goyim" or "gentiles" in terms of identifying non-Jews, I really don't see the relevancy. I don't think those are slanderous words (it's not like saying "white trash")--sure, it identifies someone as "other" in a sense, usually comedically, but you're really taking out of context and diminishing the use of labeling something that has served Jewish people for thousands of years. Frankly, it's a privilege for you to feel safe enough and assimilated enough/belong enough to a community or a country or culture that you don't need to refer to the people outside of your orbit who want to kill you or tax you to the end of the earth and infringe on your right to free expression. Today the terms are often invoked in Larry David-esque comedy, usually in the context of us jokingly grumbling about some nonsense. It's not a term of vilification and if it is to you, then don't use it. But don't turn it onto all of Judaism/Jews as yet another alleged testament to our bigotry or "supremacy." I know you didn't use that word but you should know the term "Jewish supremacy" was coined by David Duke.

Being "the chosen people" doesn't mean that any other people are not chosen for something or that we are "better." There's a lot of interpretations that happen in Judaism, which is among the most celebrated and foundational aspects of our culture. Just as how the first word of the torah, "bereshit" can mean "in THE beginning" OR "in A beginning," being chosen doesn't inherently come with the definition that has been interpreted by many antisemites as us thinking we're better than other people. I think of "chosenness" pertaining to Jews as being a testament to how we are chosen to suffer and disperse and struggle and feel alienated in the unique set of circumstances that Jews have faced, and to still love ourselves, to still love and champion others around us, to still believe in and preserve the beauty of life itself and God in whatever manifestation that appears as for any of us.

I am a very reform Jew, but my spiritual practice (which I suppose could qualify as that of a Juddhist or maybe some Jewish Hinduism lol) still feels preternaturally Jewish to me, and I'm proud of that and it's meaningful to me. I don't feel compelled to speak for Hasidic Jewish misogyny or Harvey Weinstein or anyone or anything else, because again, we're not a monolith and we are not the sum of our "worst" parts. I don't care if orthodox Jews wouldn't even register me as Jewish. I know what Judaism is for me, and even if it doesn't look traditional, I'm glad there are people who practice it traditionally and that that is meaningful to them. And I'm glad that there is an evolution, an open space for Jewish people and people of all faiths and backgrounds to make sense of the world in ways that feel resonant and meaningful to them.

I don't need or want you to observe Shabbat or come back to Judaism in any way that doesn't feel authentic to you. All I want is, for all of us, Jews and gentiles alike, to feel safe and at home and accepting of ourselves as we are, and to make peace with our differences and to love each other all the more for them-- without needing to erase or diminish those differences. That's my dream, and what I think the multiplicity of Jewishness and all of its concomitant dysfunction and beauty represents to me--the possibility for all of us to struggle with the human condition, and to still persevere with humility, humor and compassion.

You don't need to be perfect, and neither does Judaism. I wish you continued healing, and I hope that whatever your journey is with Judaism, that when you leave this earth someday, you do so with profound acceptance and joy and pride for who you are, for the global and local community you are part of, and a sense of peace with the human condition and that we all do the best we can with the circumstances we have.