Opinion
JENNIFER CALFAS
EDITOR IN CHIEF
AARICA MARSH
and DEREK WOLFE
EDITORIAL PAGE EDITORS
LEV FACHER
MANAGING EDITOR
420 Maynard St.
Ann Arbor, MI 48109
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4A — Friday, September 25, 2015
W
ednesday
evening,
when I grabbed my tallit
and walked down Hill
street
toward
Hillel for Yom
Kippur services,
nobody
asked
if I was Jewish.
I fit right in —
I
knew
when
to bow during
the
Shema
(a
prayer
calling
out to God) and
the
inflections
of the v’ahavta
(a
prayer
reminding us of certain Jewish
practices). I knew how to be
humble when asking God for
forgiveness and the strength to be
a better person, a better Jew. The
vulnerability that crept into my
chest as I acknowledged my flaws
and screw-ups throughout the past
year was heart wrenching, but
familiar. This Yom Kippur, nobody
doubted my faith.
Although I don’t go to Hillel near-
ly as often as I should, I identify as
a Jewish American. I grew up very
much in the faith — my sisters and I
kept kosher, went to services regu-
larly, became B’not Mitzvah — and
I’m increasingly embracing my Jew-
ishness. I love belonging to a minor-
ity with a success story — one that
overcame prejudice and persecution
to settle as respected middle- and
upper-class citizens. I’m proud of
our historical narrative and how we
used our position as societal “others”
to advocate for the oppressed, espe-
cially during the Civil Rights Move-
ment. We remember that we were
once slaves in the land of Egypt.
This is the element of Judaism
that I most identify with. The Jew-
ish notion of tikkun olam, or heal-
ing the world, comprises my core.
It shapes my passions and pursuits
and is part of the reason I love public
policy so much. Maybe it’s idealistic,
but I see policy as a tool to repair
poverty and inequality to make our
country more just. The summer
after my sophomore year, I interned
at a Jewish social justice nonprofit,
advocating for Voting Rights Act
reform to ensure people of color
throughout the South could exercise
their right to vote. I found the work
so fulfilling because it was connect-
ed to the abstract ideal of justice that
I embody in my Jewish being.
And yet, since I first started liv-
ing in Ann Arbor three years ago,
my Jewish identity has come under
dual scrutiny from both Jews and
non-Jews. I’ve found that some
gentiles have a hard time reconcil-
ing my faith with my appearance.
When kids found out I was Jew-
ish my freshman year, I was often
greeted
with
raised
eyebrows.
“Wait, really?” they would say,
utterly shocked. “But you don’t look
it at all!”
Of course, this reaction is more
innocent ignorance than malicious
prejudice, but it still stings. Yes, I’ll
admit that I don’t possess many of
the traits some people expect Jews
to have — my hair is light brown
and I have my mother’s slim nose
and green eyes. I’m from Maryland,
not Westchester, Long Island or Los
Angeles. But the fact that some peo-
ple don’t realize that it’s offensive to
openly act surprised when a mem-
ber of an ethnicity breaks away from
an offensive stereotype is beyond
me. What was even more offensive
was when one girl, after discovering
I was Jewish, cocked her head to the
side and said, “Yeah, I guess I see it.”
But these superficial encounters
aren’t the ones that fundamentally
upset me. In fact, they feel more
like dirt in an open wound. The
real gut-punching is when people of
my own community and faith don’t
recognize me as one of them. It’s
when a hand shoots up behind me
two weeks ago during the first day
of a Judaic studies class and tells
me directly that to be Jewish, my
mother must be Jewish, too, openly
contradicting me and my faith in
front of the entire class. Plain and
simple, he says. It’s from the Torah.
My mother is Catholic, which,
according to certain Jewish doc-
trine, invalidates my Jewish iden-
tity. This doctrine, however, is not
actually from the Torah and instead
is merely a practice passed down
from ancient Roman times. Even
though my sisters and I had mikva’ot
(conversion ceremonies) when we
were babies, the ceremony wasn’t
Orthodox. As a result, neither the
state of Israel nor the kid behind me
recognizes me as Jew. And it hurts.
This doubt stings more than the
ignorant stereotypes because, com-
ing from within my own group, it’s
harder to dismiss. The matrilineal
teaching is not some fringe, ultra-
Orthodox belief. Though not present
in the Torah, the teaching is widely
accepted, and part of being Jewish is
feeling connected to the patchwork
of practices and traditions that form
our dogma. This tradition, how-
ever, makes me feel alienated, like
an outsider in my own faith. I find it
perplexing to encounter Jews who
feel like they can and should reject
me for not corresponding with an
arcane definition, especially during
a time of shrinking numbers and
dwindling faith.
The fact that I don’t fit neatly
into my community is something
I’m learning to digest. For now, I’ll
continue to embrace the elements of
Judaism that speak to me: the empha-
sis on progress, social justice and the
duty to make the world a better place.
And in doing so, I vow to push the
community’s stubborn boundaries
by creating my own space.
—Anne Katz can be reached
at amkatz@umich.edu.
N
ever before had a pope entered the
House chamber, much less been
given the freedom to address those
who run the most pow-
erful nation. But there,
perhaps, has never been
a pope in our lifetime
as enthralling as Pope
Francis. More than 20
years after U.S. Rep. John
Boehner (R–Ohio) tried
to invite Pope John Paul
II to the chamber and
was declined by both him
and later Benedict XVI,
Francis, the first pope in
history from the Ameri-
cas, finally accepted Boehner’s invitation.
As with anything congressional, politics
ruled everything about the pope’s visit, even
before he arrived in the nation. Though he is
the pope Boehner brought, Democratic presi-
dential candidate Bernie Sanders claimed to
be his ideological equal, and Rep. Paul Gosar
(R–Ariz.) boycotted. Few figures are equally
applauded and criticized by both sides of
the aisle as Francis is. His approval rating
was as high as 76 percent during 2014, with
high approval from conservatives and lib-
erals alike. Both sides could, in theory, pick
and choose issues on which they claim to
be in line with the views of the Vatican, but
2015 has seen approval ratings in all groups
decline. Approval among conservatives is
down to 45 percent, no doubt in part due to
the fallout from Francis’ encyclical, or letter
of Catholic doctrine, Laudato si’, on climate
change. Approval among liberals has also
fallen 14 percent, perhaps because time has
shown Francis to not always be the progres-
sive media darling he was often portrayed as
early in his papacy.
That said, playing the polls and partisan
politics of both the pope and his address
instead of recognizing the overarching
themes he continued to stress would miss
all of the papal purposes. Pope Francis is not
playing the side of Republican or Democrat.
It’s impossible to categorize the issues into
the polarized bipartisan system of Duverg-
er’s law. Never mind that the pope’s com-
ments prior to his speech are global and not
American in nature, or that this was the sec-
ond speech he had ever given in English. It
was a speech that was neither liberal nor con-
servative, but Catholic.
In many ways, the lead-up and response to
the speech was similar to the release of the
Laudato si’. For months, media speculated
about how the Vatican, notably opposed to
certain circles of conservative Christianity
in both its acceptance and encouragement
of understanding modern science principles
such as evolution and climatology, would
blast climate-change deniers. And while
the encyclical certainly did align itself with
scientists and environmentalists calling for
action to prevent further climate change,
the point was again missed, as Francis once
noted that the encyclical was not really even
primarily about environmentalism. In it, he
wrote, “The Church does not presume to set-
tle scientific questions or to replace politics,”
knowing that the two would take the main
stage in discussion, but behind all of it were
major themes of responsibility to protect the
marginalized and care for the poor, as well as
a call to end the indifference toward a throw-
away culture that extends far beyond envi-
ronmental concerns.
Far more than Francis pushed political
solutions, he urged Congress to continue to
strive for the “common good.” The common
good, as outlined in the church’s 1965 docu-
ment Gaudium et spes, is “the sum total of
social conditions which allow people, either
as groups or as individuals, to reach their
fulfillment more fully and more easily.” This
concept is intrinsically tied to those respon-
sible for guiding nations, with whom much
responsibility rests. As Francis noted, “poli-
tics is … an expression of our compelling need
to live as one, in order to build as one, the
greatest common good.”
As more and more citizens feel like Con-
gress is out of touch and a servant to special
interests, the belief that politicians continue
to promote the “general welfare” in order to
build a more perfect union, as noted in the
preamble of the Constitution, has waned
with it. Francis opened his speech comparing
the legislators to the figure of Moses and the
tales of him leading the Israelites, telling his
audience, “You are asked to protect, by means
of the law, the image and likeness fashioned
by God on every human face.” The number
of citizens who would agree that Congress is
fulfilling this duty, especially in serving the
faces of the marginalized instead of the faces
of the powerful, dwindles each day.
There’s no greater picture than that of Fran-
cis eating lunch with the homeless instead of
with his hosts from Congress after his speech.
He’s not interested in the rhetoric; he’s inter-
ested in the parable. Instead of only looking
down and out at the world from the halls of
Congress and the political elite, he put himself
among those who come last, for the last will
be first. Francis did nothing more than ask for
dialogue on the issues that keep us from mov-
ing toward this common good — a dialogue
that remembers those outside of the House
chamber who need help the most.
In an address the day before to many
American bishops, Francis told the leaders
of the Church in America to “be pastors close
to people, pastors who are neighbors and ser-
vants.” Perhaps that’s a fitting message for
the leaders in the capitol as well.
— David Harris can be reached
at daharr@umich.edu.
Claire Bryan, Regan Detwiler, Ben Keller, Payton Luokkala,
Aarica Marsh, Adam Morton, Victoria Noble, Anna Polumbo-
Levy, Melissa Scholke, Michael Schramm, Steph Trierweiler,
Mary Kate Winn, Derek Wolfe
EDITORIAL BOARD MEMBERS
Creating my own space
DAVID
HARRIS
I don’t need to have kids
I
t all started with population growth.
During my first semester of freshman
year, I took a class called Global Change.
It was, in short, a lengthy
and depressing list of
all the ways humans are
severely fucking up the
planet. It was also life
changing, and it became
the reason why I chose to
study environmental sci-
ence. One of the points I
took away from this class
was that the world’s popu-
lation is getting so large,
so quickly, that many of
the sustainable changes
that we, as humans from all over the world,
have implemented are simply overridden by
the negative effects of adding so many people
to the planet every year. So in that class, as
an 18-year-old freshman, I made the decision
that I would not contribute to this problem.
I would not have kids. Instead, I could adopt
one. Or two or three, even. It was a win-win
situation for everyone, and I’d save the world,
etc., etc.
Then, about a year ago, my life suddenly
changed forever. I’m still not sure how, but
somehow I came to the shocking revelation
that I, in fact, am not required to have children.
Let me reiterate: It took me 20 years to realize
I didn’t have to have kids. That might seem like
a very obvious thing to you, especially if you
are not a woman, but as ridiculous as it seems,
I’m actually not surprised it took me that long.
You see, we’re so trained as women to see our
lives played out as follows: get a degree, get a
job, get married, work for a while, have some
babies, either do or don’t give up work and
be a loving mom for the rest of your life. I’ve
lived my entire life planning on including the
mom part — I’ve even spent time brainstorm-
ing my future children’s names (which I won’t
tell you, because if they ever exist, their names
will be way more unique than “Rachael,” dam-
mit). But now when I think about that sto-
ryline — the one with babies — it seems like
someone else’s story.
The more I thought about this crazy revela-
tion, the more it made sense. I was excited. I
was liberated from something I’d never actu-
ally faced. But that didn’t matter; I didn’t real-
ize how trapped I had felt until I let myself out
of the cage. I’ve never been good with kids.
Children seriously freak me out. They make
me nervous, and I don’t know how on Earth
you’re supposed to actually make them listen
to you without bribing them with chocolate,
cake or Legos (all very effective tactics on me).
And babies? Any time I hold one, all I feel is
terror that I’m going to somehow drop it, and
all I want is for someone to take it back as soon
as possible.
I used to think that I wanted kids so I could
get right all the things my parents got wrong. I
even had a kind of mental list of things I would
do differently than them. For example, if I had
a daughter, she would be allowed to yell at me
when she was angry. Great idea, 12-year-old
Rachael. I thought I had this parenting thing
figured out.
But even if I did get right everything my
parents got wrong, there’s a pretty good
chance I’d also get wrong all the things they
got right. There’s not really a practice test you
can take for this stuff.
Whenever I tell people that I don’t want
kids, without fail the response is, “That’s
what you say now.” It’s so completely foreign
Living the pope’s message
ANNE
KATZ
E-mail RachElat Rdawson@umich.Edu
RACHEL DAWSON
RACHAEL
LACEY
and don’t worry, all you child-loving
people out there, I’m not a complete
monster. At one point I did want
kids. Yes, I still might change my
mind, and no, that statement is not
simply to comfort you or to assuage
your fears; it is just me recognizing
my freedom. And no, my “freedom”
is not just laziness, apprehension or
“You’re just an ignorant young per-
son who has no idea what’s good for
her.” It’s my body and it’s my life, and
surprisingly enough, it’s my choice.
It’s not that I’ve made up my mind
100 percent to never have children.
It’s that I know that I don’t have to.
And wow, that is liberating.
Instead, I can travel. I can baby-
sit other people’s kids and then
promptly return them. I can give
my friends and family all that extra
love inside of me. Or I can give it to
cats. I can save money — a whole lot
of money. I don’t have to have the
ridiculously huge responsibility of
literally creating a person. Now my
only issue is finding a husband who
also doesn’t want kids.
Oh, wait. I don’t need to have one
of those, either.
—Rachael Lacey can be reached
at rachaelk@umich.edu.
— Pope Francis during his address to Congress on Thursday.
“
NOTABLE QUOTABLE
Our efforts must aim at restoring
hope, righting wrongs, maintaining
commitments, and thus promoting
the well-being of individuals
and of peoples. ”