When We Disagree...

News coverage these past days has been dominated by “the encampments.” These college-campus (and campus-adjacent) gatherings of pro-Palestine and anti-Israel protestors—I think there’s a difference between the two, even if they very often overlap—have generated chaos in the university world. They began at Columbia and quickly spread to places such as NYU, Yale, Emerson, and USC; they’ve now made it to Ohio, at OSU.

I won’t delve too much into the overall nature of these demonstrations, which have, undoubtedly, made many Jews feel unsafe on campuses. Instead, I’ve been reflecting on the conflict they’ve generated (and which they represent) among Jews themselves. Although an overwhelming majority of Jews still consider themselves supportive of Israel and/or Zionists, an active minority of protestors in these encampments are/have been Jews, and they have sought to foreground their Jewish identities amid the struggle. Their ability to do so was amplified by the overlap of the protests and Passover—leading many Jews in the encampments to engage in Seder activities within the demonstrations.

Mainstream Jews’ attitudes toward these spaces and Jewish participation therein vary dramatically. Many oppose the spaces and think they are problematic; some say the cause is fair, but the encampments have been coopted by (or complicit with) antisemitic messaging, making Jews (implicitly or explicitly) unwelcome; most land somewhere in between those two positions; and, of course, a minority support them.

The current flashpoint about encampments represents just one moment of vociferous debate in our people’s long history; it too will pass—however, the larger divisions will remain, and what’s to come next is anyone’s guess. As we grapple with these substantive and enduring communal fissures, I would urge us to keep in mind two principles.

First are the words from a recent Cohen Family Leaders in Light scholar in residence, Dr. Bernie Mayer. He notes that so many of us, when forced to confront differences of opinion, are tempted by intellectual/psychological shortcuts. Rather than treating our adversaries as respectable people with whom we have reasonable disagreement, we presume our adversaries must be 1) crazy, 2) stupid, or 3) evil. Until we meet each other with mutual respect, Mayer says, we have little hope of productively solving conflict.

Second, since we are involved in community relations, it is important for us to honor the community—even members of it we may believe to be wrong. The Talmud tells a story about the two greatest rabbinic houses, Beit Hillel and Beit Shammai—that they for three years disagreed with one another, and their dispute only ended when a divine voice announced that “both houses’ opinions are the words of the living God, but the law is according to Beit Hillel.” How, the text asks, could that be? Because, it answers, Beit Hillel “were kind and humble, explaining both their and their adversaries’ opinions, and even teaching their adversaries’ opinions first.”

I assure you, Beit Hillel and Beit Shammai’s disagreements felt—to them—profound and substantive. And yet, as Beit Hillel models, our debate must be empathetic; even when we disagree, we disagree as members of the same community. And, as members of unique, pluralistic, historically marginalized group, we should recall (especially in moments when we feel obligated to rebuke our peers (also a mitzvah, by the way!)) that we have to do so in ways that communicate love, respect, and dignity.

Whether we always like it or not, even in the tough moments, we Jews are each others’ keepers… and it’s our duty to be compassionate, even if discordant.