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The Jews Killed Jesus
August 02, 2007 | Category: Family, It's a Trip
"So the Jews killed Jesus?" some kids asked in my white-bread Connecticut Sunday school.
"That's right," the teacher said.
And so my first indoctrination into the inheritance of prejudice was made. With a simple sentence, and no blurry soft innuendo.
It was a bald statement of why Jews.Are.Bad.
And it didn't take graduating the 17th grade with a Theology minor on top of 5 years as a chaplain to realize that my pastor with the rosy cheeks and rumbly sense of humor was teaching us kids to condemn.
I knew it right then.
At 13.
Although I didn't have the courage to speak up, just the cowardice to silently disagree.
And it was sheer luck of the heart and my family that I knew better.
I mean, no one runs around dousing a pan of flaming saganaki shouting "the Greeks killed Socrates!"
And what that pastor was saying seemed just as.... off.
Now of course I know it's much worse.
My parents worked hard to raise me without prejudice, which is an amazing feat in New England. Because that bastion of Abolitionism has the demographics of Wonder Bread, fought integration right up into the 1980's, and features a basketball team that, don't forget, found the one white guy in America who could jump.
I wanted to do more than that for Bear.
My point, and I do have one, is that this is the one great fear CD and I have about moving back to the East Coast (if that's what we end up doing... and it is certainly looking that way.)
We chose the Oak Park area precisely because of its wide mix of population.
It put him with a rainbow of other kids: ones whose Mommies wear veils, ones whose skin is different color from his, ones that have two daddies...
This area is by no means perfect, but it was the best we could find with our priorities.
Yes, kids (and adults) will be mean, and segregate, and clique up. It's a Lord of the Flies world, still.
But at least he SEES the rainbow world around him. Just being on a t-ball team that looks like a United Nations conference is, in and of itself, a powerful teacher.
Yet now, at the tender age of 6, we are packing boxes. We are counting fondue forks and donating some of the zabillion odd spoons we've found. We are looking online at towns and neighborhoods.
"What will it be like?" Bear asks, carefully separating the packing paper in a pile for me.
'White!' I want to scream. "You've been there," I remind him. "On vacation..."
My husband sees my distress and tries to comfort me. "You and I ended up OK," CD reminds me, his lips in my hair. "And we grew up practically in gallon jugs of white milk."
I sigh, and nod. "But we had overcome so much programming. When I think back to all the stupid stuff I used to carry around in my brain. And the assumptions I made..." I blush, even now, in shame. "If I'd married Darnell, the cab driver from Zimbabwe, this would be a whole 'nother issue."
"Didn't he want to take you back with him to meet his other wives?" CD reminds me.
"Details," I scoff, holding him tight. Instead I married this Icelander, and we built this life together....
With this child. Who will of course be exposed to all kinds of intolerance in his life. There never really was any way to avoid it.
But the little voice inside me says it will be harder now. Maybe this my own prejudice, wouldn't that be funny?, but this is what I am afraid of in moving back where I was once told that the Jews killed Jesus.
[CD would like to add that a) Yes, the strange and not-so-lovely 'Bunker for Christ' people also live in this area so let's not pretend it's nirvana, b) That prejudice lurks even in the seemingly most integrated communities, maybe is being taught right this minute at a Sunday School near us, and that it's our job as parents to teach differently, and c) That he strongly doubts his wife meant ANY slur at all (to which I heartily agree but reminded him that it just wasn't OK then or now to teach kids to condemn, wholesale, an entire faith population.)]
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