Lately when I pass through the area, I can't help feeling a bit sorry for the American Jews I know. They are liberal/progressive, of course, as many Jews are. But the recent flare-up in the Middle East regarding Israel and Gaza, whatever the real facts are (and I don't pretend I know them right now), seem to have put many Jews in a bind.
This round of the Middle East conflict seems unlike previous ones in that, judging by the news articles and blogs in Facebook feed, support for the various sides has strongly broken along political party lines in the U.S., more so than ever before, with the Republican/Conservatives nearly unanimous in supporting Israel and almost all the Democratic/progressive blogs/writers I've seen just as strongly supporting the Palestinians.
The reflexive conservative support for Israel is nothing new, but the rush to embrace the Palestinian side by the liberals seems unprecedented in its scope. No doubt it is driven mainly by social media. Perhaps it is also because Obama and his handlers seem to have openly embraced Muslim causes in general, such as the ridiculously naive "peace overture" to Iran, and his faithful are taking their zeitgeist cue from him.
Whatever the root of it, the evolved situation has left many liberal American Jews caught in the dilemma of being on the "wrong side" of one of the many issues that liberal/progressives have settled in their minds as being clearly black and white, and which if you disagree with them makes you a "bad person." Not surprisingly it has left some liberal Jews confused and angry.
Personally I have no idea how this is going to play out. Moreover I don't know how I'd want it to play out. I do not possess the wisdom required to figure this out. Perhaps no single individual does. I'm glad I don't have to maintain a personal stake in it because of my "identity."
I am also certain that the U.S. media is a poisonous fountain of garbage and Matrix-level lies about nearly everything, so there is little point in my trying to figure it out from here in Oregon. No doubt my own neutrality on this issue would anger folks on both sides. So be it.
I was musing about all this a couple days ago as I was walking past the Jewish businesses on Capitol Hill Highway on my way to Starbucks for a morning work session in Multnomah Village. I had set out on foot with my daypack and found myself thirsty in the hot sun.
Should have taken a water bottle, I said. I'd broken my rule for hiking by not bringing one.
They'll be something soon, I said, knowing there was at least the Hoot Owl convenience store at the corner of Vermont. It's a bit musty and decrepit---not a place I make a point of going into----but at least it has consumable beverages.
My mouth was getting drier with each step and I could think only of slaking my thirst. Just at that moment, while passing the sign for Everything Jewish I saw a small table set up on the sidewalk ahead of me. Around it were standing a group of small children, about eight or nine years old---two young boys wearing yarmulkes and a girl in a dress. I could tell that they were peddling lemonade to those passing by.
Hallelujah, I muttered to myself. Exactly what I needed, right in my path.
When I got up to the table, I looked at one of the kids wearing a yarmulke and waited for his pitch. He pointed to the pitcher of liquid refreshment in front of him. Want some lemonade? he asked me.
"I'm certain that I do," I told him, earnestly. "How much for a glass?"
"It's name your price," he said.
My heart sank. There are many things I love about Portland, but the "name your price" fad among certain elements of the hipster set is not one of them. Red too detests that many of her colleagues in school spoke of opening practices based on this principle, as part of the so-called "gift economy." Pay me what you want for my time.
To me, it's sure way to confuse people and make them feel back about the process of buying and selling. Standing in front of the lemonade stand at that moment, all I could think was "Not the Jews too?"
Being very thirsty, I very much wanted to transact business with them, yet I did not feel I could endorse this method of buying and selling without at least making a statement. So I reached into my back pocket and pulled out a handful of quarters, over two dollars worth, and plunked them down on the table in a neat stack. I had already considered it be a donation and didn't care about the particular amount.
"All right," I said. "There's my price. Now how much do I get for it?"
I tried to get them to actually agree to a real business negotiation, but the kids were too young to follow my line of reasoning. They were just doing the trendy thing they thought was right, that they had been told to do, and my gambit only made them confused. When I pushed the issue, the kid just kept saying it was up to me to decide.
"O.K. then," I said, cheerfully. "I think I should get as much as I care to drink. So fill up a glass and let's get this going."
Relieved that we'd finally come to terms, the kid complied with my request. I picked up the plastic cup and chugged it quickly to take the edge of my thirst. Then I put it back on the table and said, "O.K., another round, please." I reckoned two glasses would be enough for me, although I didn't tell them that at first.
He filled it back up quite readily. The kids, being kids, were unfazed by the idea that I might drink all their lemonade. In fact they happily informed me that they could make more if I wanted.
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