The idiosyncratic aspect of journalism lies in the fact that stories create themselves. While journalists certainly present facts in narrative form, I, as a journalist and a writer, certainly view facts and events in narrative form from the start. When I completed writing Part I of my reflections on attending Midnight Mass at St. Patrick’s Cathedral this past Christmas Eve, I expected to provide Part II as a chance to discuss my relationship to those of other faiths, and perhaps share my thoughts on how religious or holy space is created and used. However, foolish was I to suspect an article such as this should go unaddressed by the university body. I certainly expected feedback, ranging from those who appreciated my take on the experience to those who might have a wholly different attitude towards the notion of Jews in other traditions’ holy spaces. Yet I found that the article was taken by many as a chance to accuse both the Observer’s discretion when publishing, and my own apparently dishonorable and un-Jewish behavior for having entered a church and, perhaps worse, written about it.
I want to take this Part II to encourage the community at Yeshiva University especially to test their religious comfort zones, to value curiosity and challenge their faith. An appropriate text to bring for support would be Ari Goldman, a YU grad and former New York Times writer. In his book, The Search for God at Harvard, Goldman discusses the experience of being an Orthodox Jew assigned to write about religion throughout the US, and his efforts to educate himself in other faiths by spending a year at Harvard Divinity in the 1980’s. While outlining the many professors he had and the courses he taught, he repeatedly quotes a key line from a religion professor, Diane Eck: “If you know religion…you don’t know any” (Goldman, 262). To truly be religious means, to me, that one must be religious in a responsible way: one must remained educated, worldly, and realistic.
One of the criticisms my Part I received was that I am describing going into a church without recognizing the abuse Jews have encountered at the hands of Christians in the past (most notably throughout the Middle Ages). I think this is a particularly interesting criticism, symptomatic of an all too common mistake made by Jews: to assume that past persecution taints all descendants of persecutors. This mentality smells to me of something distinctly Christian, as a matter of fact: the doctrine of Original Sin. The idea that descendants of sinners bear the burden of sin as well is antithetical to Jewish values, and mustn’t be inappropriately and hypocritically imposed on other communities. One is certainly allowed, nay, encouraged, to criticize past communities for the persecutions Jews received. However, part of emotional and historical maturity demands, challenges us to see children, not as their parents, but as themselves, and judge them accordingly. Just as we believe “one must not be punished for the sins of the fathers,” we must not punish others for the sins of their fathers.
At Yeshiva University, administrators and students alike are responsible for creating and continually fostering an environment in which it is permissible to exercise free speech both in the name of religious conviction, but also in the name of religious curiosity. It is a bastardization of Judaism and Jewish values, as well as a juvenile stance, to discourage students from exploration.
When I attended the mass at St. Patrick’s this December, I met a number of Christians who asked me about my affiliation. When I explained that I was Jewish, I received a warm welcome, not a welcome which is secretly a cloaked invitation to convert, nor a welcome intended to missionize. On the contrary, it was a welcome that simply assured that I was permitted to observe a ceremony, a gesture that quelled my fears that these Christians might feel I had made them a spectacle during their holy day. The woman I sat beside during the service actually discussed interfaith dialogue with me, as we shared experiences in each other’s religious spaces. We even exchanged contact information in order to attend interfaith events together in the future. I do hope that when I return to St. Patrick’s Cathedral next Christmas, I will proudly be able to say that my alma mater provided me with the tools to go out and precisely engage in interfaith, curious, challenging experiences.