Raising a New Generation

Four-year-old Niko Vest Walton savors a slice of pizza at a Purim Carnival in Culver City, California. Credit: Corinne Lightweaver, 2008.

Something remarkable seems to be happening: Jewish philosophy is going mainstream! It is reflected in the public television character Bob the Builder™, a darling of the preschool set, and echoed in the speeches of our president elect. Those readers who are current or recent parents of three- to six-year olds may have already guessed what I’m talking about. The refrain is echoing on the lips of an increasing number of U.S. Americans. As Bob the Builder puts it, “Can we build it? Yes, we can.”

Hope is alive and growing in the United States today. Building a better future is not a new concept for Jews, nor a revival of a discarded way of life. For Jews, hope is an ever-present theme in the fabric of our daily lives and in the ancient commandment of tikkun olam, the repair of the world.

As Jews of color and allies, the work of tikkun olam is one to which we feel personally connected, particularly in the area of healing the artificial rifts among Jews. No matter what denomination of Judaism we identify with, we all worship the one Creator (or God or Shekhinah or Spirit of the Universe or Ha Shem). If we are secular Jews, we feel a bond— however tenuous—with some aspect of Jewish life, be it the land of Israel, the Jewish people (clal Yisrael), the music, the core emphasis on social justice, Jewish humor, couscous, babaghanouzh, baklava, savory cheese pies, or deli sandwiches on rye.

Nevertheless we are tired of generating that reparative energy outward, to justify our existence, our beliefs, our families, our heritages. But let us not allow the flame of hope to die out. We are in a time of great upheaval, stress, and conflict. And we are in a time of great possibility.

Though we may find ourselves living in Colorado, Iowa, Georgia, or Rhode Island—none known as great bastions of Jews of color or our allies—or though we may find ourselves the only Jews of color or allies living on our block in New York, Chicago, Los Angeles, or Washington, D.C., we Jews of color and our allies are a huge contingent, a sizeable voting bloc, a vast wealth of spirit, a veritable fountain of culture and history, a community of wisdom and strength.

For now, let those of us who are wounded draw inward toward each other and the warmth of family. Some people fear this type of bonding as separatist (and thus “dangerous”). I see it as a necessary component of every civil rights movement—African American, gay and lesbian, people with disabilities, immigrants—that has made any progress in this country.

Just like there are times when we pull together with our immediate families, both biological and chosen, for support, strategy, and cheerleading before reentering the larger world, there are times when we need the camaraderie of those who share in the same obstacles, disappointments, cultural visions, and achievements as ourselves.

Undoubtedly, some people will scoff at the idea of a magazine for Jews of color and our allies. They will call it “separatist,” “unnecessary,” “unorthodox,” or maybe even “subversive.” But I believe the contingent of people who will rejoice in this magazine, find strength and entertainment in it, and use it as a springboard toward leadership in a broader community makes this venture overdue and invaluable.

Jews of color may be small in number as a community, compared to the larger Jewish community. But when has the larger Jewish community ever let its minority status keep it from excelling, discovering, creating, and leading? Living a Jewish life has never been a numbers game. Our agenda as Jews of color and allies has at its core the same essence as Judaism itself: we live our lives by striving to reach, create, and share the best of ourselves.
Copyright © 2008 Corinne Lightweaver.