I love my friend Dave. We have been amigos since high school and to this day we talk all the time, though usually via AOL Instant Messenger. (He lives in Monterey County and I live in Albany.)
For some reason Dave and I love to argue. We’ll spar about anything. He blasts me because I refuse to get a cell phone or watch “The Daily Show.” I rip him for disliking Monty Python and for stirring no more than a few molecules of sugar into his morning coffee. (He swears it’s enough to sweeten the cup, but I know he’s nuts.)
We’re like an old married couple.
We also bicker about Jews and Judaism. Dave is one of those Jews who like dissing the tribe. He is highly critical of Israel and reflexively sides with the Palestinians nearly every time. He also has no patience for Judaism, seeing the faith as little more than a relic of old shtetl dwellers.
Then, just to rub it in, my friend will often speak glowingly of Christianity. Or, more precisely, of Jesus. Dave trumpets the fact that he has read the Gospels (though he hasn’t read the Tanach) and quick to praise Jesus as a great teacher, and quite possibly divine.
He doesn’t call himself a Christian, but he certainly doesn’t practice Judaism. Yet of course Dave is 100 percent Jew by virtue of his DNA.
But is that enough?
It all got me to wondering about the borders of Judaism. How far out can you go before you are indisputably out of bounds?
Defining boundaries can be an arbitrary — and often dangerous — enterprise. Just look at the record: Russia and China; India and Pakistan; Mason and Dixon. Border disputes get messy.
And so it is with Judaism. So varied are the individual beliefs and practices of Jews, it’s impossible to precisely draw the borders of the faith. And we have had over the years more than a few messy border disputes of our own.
Most Orthodox would say: You can eat pork chops with lobster sauce, drive your PT Cruiser on Saturday and consort with gay Palestinians, but if your mother is Jewish, then so are you.
But they would hasten to add: You can pray at your Reform synagogue all day long, but if you don’t pay heed to the 613 mitzvot, then you’re simply not practicing Judaism.
Some liberal streams might counter: You can do the pork chops, the Cruiser and the Palestinians, and if your father is Jewish, so are you. And you may skip some of the ritual stuff, but you’d better recycle and eat free-range chicken.
Very different borders.
Is it fair to say that someone who eschews Torah, who turns his back on Jewish tradition, who celebrates Christmas, who actively works against Israel, who remains indifferent to the threat of intermarriage, is still a Jew?
Or is having certain chromosomes still the only qualification needed to be considered Jewish? I’m not sure. I certainly don’t want to be part of any Jewish border patrol running background checks. (“Mr. Rosenthal, our records indicate that you eat cheeseburgers and have a foreskin. I’m afraid we’re gonna have to ask you to leave.”)
I realize I’m mixing apples and etrogs here. Being Jewish and practicing Judaism are not the same thing. But the two do bisect, though no one has the last word on where and how much.
Jews will never uniformly agree on the borders of faith and peoplehood. Besides, it seems to be human nature to break boundaries and go exploring. We Jews have done it throughout our history, which may explain a few things like, oh, the Talmud, the synagogue and Super Sunday.
While these musings banged around in my mind, I learned that Dave recently showed up unannounced at a courthouse to lend moral support to a mutual friend facing legal difficulties. Though he had to drive far and couldn’t stay long, Dave went out of his way to spend a few minutes with her and offer a comforting hug.
It reminded me that my friend, whatever his opinions about Jesus or Judaism, is first and foremost a mensch. And to my way of thinking that makes him a pretty good Jew.
Dan Pine lives and kvetches in Albany. He can be reached at [email protected] .