What’s An American Jew Supposed To Do?

I knew it as soon as I turned the corner out of my house. It's the most awkward thing that happens to me on Patmos – the sound of Hebrew. Israelis from a cruise ship have flooded Skala.

At first, I feel a tinge of joy. I'm happy to hear some Hebrew. I'm thrilled that despite everything, there are Israelis on cruises enjoying their summers. I would guess on a normal day, Michelle and I are probably the only Jews on Patmos – so it's nice to feel the presence of other Jews.

Then the other shoe drops. 

Stelios who runs the gelateria and cafe where I most enjoy writing is something between bemused and unhappy about the composition of visitors on the island.

"There are bad people today," I hear – almost ready for something political to come out of his mouth – something that might change how I see him. "There are Israelis. They don't talk to you. You can't connect with them. They don't care."

Touche.

In 2019, on a day much like today I blogged about the same issue. I couldn't help but find myself horrified at the behavior of Israeli cruise ship passengers around town. If you know the island and understand the culture, it's hard not to see Israelis as the most obtuse nationality of visitors to come off a ship. They picked all the figs off people's trees and vines. Two boys rode one of those tourist bicycle buggies (that Thank God don't seem to be around anymore) down pedestrian-only roads and around the town square where they are forbidden. People yelled to each other from inside to outside shops. Without soliciting a single Patmian's opinion, it was objectively distasteful and disrespectful. 

The opinions I heard afterwards were right in line with Stelios'. There wasn't antisemitism in it, but there was no shortage of resentment. Many shop owners felt not only did they put up with extremely rude behavior, but that Israelis didn't spend money – so what was the point?

In fact, as I write these very words, there are two older Israeli ladies SCREAMING at each other in the shop across from where I'm sitting. I've known the couple who run that shop for years. They are quiet, dignified, friendly people who like a coffee and smoke at Stelios when they have some dead time. They looked horrified as these yelling ladies marched into their shop without so much as acknowledging the proprietors. Then I watched them talk down to the owners' teenage daughter who is helping in the shop. "Like this! Like this! Not that, THIS! THIS!"

Stelios, of anyone, probably comes out one of the best on collecting Israeli shekels since though Israelis don't seem to make many retail purchases, a lot of them seem to like to grab gelato on their shore leave. Yet, even for Stelios the money doesn't seem to make the Israeli visit worth it. Instead, he mentioned that thankfully, there's also an American cruise ship anchored off shore and the Americans will help counterbalance the vibe in town. I guess I could be proud of that…. 

In a situation like this, what's an American Jew to do?

I don't like being ashamed of Israelis. I also can't break with my Patmian neighbors whose perceptions I understand completely. I desperately want the Israelis to put on their best behavior and begin changing perceptions. Of course, this is a classic family conundrum. It might be fine for you to complain about your parent, sibling, cousin, etc – but if your spouse, friend or someone else does it, it's not okay. American Jews all talk about the Israeli stereotype – loud, rude, constantly bargaining, hardened….. We all know the story. If Stelios was Jewish, my conundrum might well be resolved.

The world seems to be in turmoil. It has many facets and there's no way to begin to touch on even a fraction in any one blog post. Of those many issues and problems, American Jews face some that are unique to us. Antisemitism in America is rising in a way we have never known in our lifetimes. The synagogue of which I am the president for five more days spends more than a quarter of a million dollars a year on security when ten years ago, we spent nothing. Jews die in synagogues now. Jews are once again victims of hate crimes. 

While antisemitism has been rising for years, October 7th seemed to have set off a nuclear bomb. Without discussing the numerous complexities of the Israel-Hamas war and the myriad opinions on it, one thing became clear – people began conflating Israelis with Jews everywhere. Although many Jews support Israel, not every Jew is Israeli just as not every Catholic is Italian and not every Muslim is Saudi. I am Jewish and I am American. Feel free to protest peacefully in front of the Israeli Embassy if you like, but don't threaten my people, family and community. It is as true as my best friend since sixth grade is an American of Persian ethnicity and he does not support Hamas, Hezbollah, Houthis or any other hate group. He mostly supports the Lakers and Hulu.

At home, I remain steadfast in not changing anything I do. I'm proud to be Jewish, to be president of my synagogue, to raise Jewish children, to be active in my Jewish community and to host holidays. I have a mezuzah on my door as I always have. 

I don't here on Patmos. It hasn't been by design – the house was new last year and I was here only for the summer. In the midst of figuring out how to get new furniture and renovations, I hadn't really considered a mezuzah – and there's no place to buy one on Patmos. Oddly enough, I started thinking about one last night. I realized I have a house here that I consider my second home. If this is indeed home to me and my family, it should probably have a mezuzah.

Internally, I paused.

I don't think anyone on Patmos knows I'm Jewish. I've never made a point to hide it or to advertise it. There is no synagogue – so they wouldn't see my going and there are no major Jewish holidays during the time I'm here. Sure, my kids and I look a little Jewy – but Greeks don't look that different except for the olive complexion – which we start to emulate at least a little after a week or two under the Greek sun.

What would happen if I put up a mezuzah?

I can't say if it's knee-jerk instinct or desperate hope, but I think the answer is nothing. Greece has 11 synagogues across it. None of them have very large congregations and some are small as having maybe 15 regulars  - a legacy of the Nazi invasion. Prior to 1944 and for almost 3000 years prior, Greece had thriving Jewish communities. Salonica- now Thessoliniki – was renown for its thriving Jewish community. Rhodes absorbed throngs of Sephardic Jews fleeing the Inquisition and was inclusive of its Jews for more than 600 years. Crete has ancient Jewish books and artifacts including Torah scrolls written in Greek. Moreover, in 1944, Greek communities tried to save their Jews. They hid them in their homes and shops – sadly vastly underestimating the power and relentlessness of the enemy. And while the Nazis and their Bulgarian surrogates didn't send Greeks to death camps, they didn't have much love for them either – freely brutalizing Greeks in the streets. Greeks may not have been the vermin Jews were, but they were a lesser race.

On the global stage, Greece has long been a good friend of Israel and a place Israelis have safely traveled for decades.

I have never seen any reason to believe Greeks have become antisemitic. I could be naive, but I especially don't believe hate has a home on Patmos.

Yet I'm not nailing up a mezuzah today. And I can't completely say why.

My first thought is what happens when I Airbnb the house? I can't know everything about who I rent to and what if some asshole I didn't filter out does real damage?

I'm also away from the house 9.5 months per year. This year, the new storage bin I purchased and left of the side of the house – complete with the stuff in it – was allegedly hauled off by the gardener who supposedly didn't understand the bin wasn't meant to be cleared out along with some of the old furniture. Ok, maybe. I'm also missing two really nice, expensive new cutting boards and the remote controls from my TV and Fire Stick. Weird and a little concerning – but not a hate crime. Probably more some sticky-fingered worker who was part of the renovation. Mohammad, the contractor, quickly replaced the remotes and was genuinely sorry about the cutting boards which can't be replaced here on Patmos.

All of that to say, would a mezuzah make my house a target when I'm away?

I can tell myself all the reasons why not. The house is recessed and hidden from most people's view. There are Patmians who don't know my house. Patmos has little to no crime. The community generally watches out for one another and the family that owns the cafe in front of my house keeps an eye on it while I'm away. I trust them. And again – Patmos is not home to hate. Or so I believe.

The question is – do I want to find out?

I don't know the answer yet. I suspect I'll sit with it for a bit and then, just like when I learned to dive as a kid, find that moment when suddenly I'm not afraid to jump head first. I do that with a lot of things – it's just about finding the moment when the fearful inevitable becomes an opportunity for growth and momentum. We can only hope that when it does, the world gets just a little better.