The Jews are tired.” No one knows who was the first Jew to post this cri de coeur on social media, but it certainly resonated and is a common online trope. While Jews are not of one mind on the bitterly contested issues of Israel and antisemitism, we can perhaps agree that it is incredibly gruelling to be so relentlessly in the public eye.
Jews seem to matter. Antisemitism, in its various forms, is fundamentally an assertion of Jewish importance in understanding the world and what is wrong with it. So it’s understandable that Jews have sought to fight Jew-hatred by showing how our existence has been a positive boon for the world. Jews have proactively gone out into the world and demonstrated how extraordinary and irreplaceable we are. We are a people of Nobel Prize winners, film-makers, novelists, songwriters and much else. Yet the Jews are still tired. Of course we are. We are on a treadmill, desperately trying to prove our worth and fight our corner.
Post-October 7, I have become convinced that that Jews are in danger not just from Jew-hatred, but also from our very public significance and our exertions to maintain it. My new book, Everyday Jews: Why the Jewish People are Not Who You Think They Are, pushes back against this danger.
So how do we push back? Let’s start with the greatest example of interfaith education that a Jew has ever conducted…
That night, my son’s friends were initiated into the Jews’ deepest, darkest secret: The Maccabeats – the preppy, peppy, clean-cut antithesis of rock’n’roll
A couple of years ago, Chanukah fell during the UK university term. My son wanted to celebrate with his non-Jewish friends, whom he invited to his room for Sainsbury’s doughnuts, the lighting of an improvised tea-lights Chanukiah, plumb brandy and the most mediocre Jewish music in the world. That night, my son’s friends were initiated into the Jews’ deepest, darkest secret: The Maccabeats – the preppy, peppy, clean-cut antithesis of rock’n’roll. They are ubiquitous on Jewish social media feeds but largely unknown outside the Jewish world. Non-Jews – such as my son’s friends – almost never see the likes of the Maccabeats. They remain under the impression that Jews’ music means Jewish genius; the likes of Bob Dylan and Leonard Cohen. They remain under the impression that Jewish culture is extraordinary culture.
Look, I am sure that some readers are outraged by what I have written and are exclaiming: “What’s wrong with the Maccabeats?” But can even their biggest Jewish fans say they are an essential and incisive contribution to contemporary music?
That’s why non-Jews need to know about the Maccabeats: The world needs to know that Jews can be human – and being human sometimes means being mediocre, dull, disappointing, incompetent, boring and banal. Jews also need to acknowledge this side of ourselves. Yes, Jews are sometimes extraordinary, but most of the time, Jewish life means everyday life. In our desperation to defend ourselves, I fear that Jews are losing sight of the everyday, the ordinary aspects of Jewishness.
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So I’ve been fighting back, by embracing the not-particularly-good side of Jewish life. In my book, I extol our culinary disappointments rather than the delights of Jewish food: sickly-sweet Palwin wine, dry-as-dust kosher parev biscuits, Israeli Bamba snacks and congealing kibbutz buffets. I recall the mildew smell of the converted church that housed the synagogue I grew up in. I celebrate the life of the queen of cheesy Israeli TV adverts, G. Yafit.
Part of my argument is that we often look much more dramatic from the outside than we actually are on the inside. It’s understandable that many non-Jews will see the existence of Community Security Trust volunteers as a tragic necessity; they rarely see how involvement in the CST is also a fun social activity. Similarly, our synagogues may seem to be full of anxious Jews praying for deliverance; they are also the venues for supper quizzes.
During dark times, we have to preserve something for ourselves.
It’s time for us to celebrate our everyday mediocrity. It’s time for us to take pleasure in our parochial triviality. And on March 11 at JW3 – appropriately, a few days before Purim – I will be hosting an event where we can do this.
The event will feature Palwin cocktails, Adon Olam karaoke, guest talks on trivial scandals and geeky statistics. The artist Tilla Crowne will be revealing her exhibition of what she calls “Judaicants”; deliberately unusable Judaica. Ivor Baddiel and I will be discussing the merits of particular (kosher) stomach remedies. For the intro tape, I have crowdsourced a tracklist of mediocre Jewish music (and, yes, it includes the Maccabeats). Oh, and a copy of the book is included in the ticket price.
So yes, the Jews are tired. I am very tired. But maybe by grounding ourselves in the cherished banality of everyday Jewish life, we can at least remember the “reward” that awaits once we are victorious in our Jewish struggles.
Everyday Jews: Why the Jewish People are not who you think they are (Icon Books) is out on March 13
Celebrating Everyday Jewishness: A Seriously Playful Evening is at JW3 at 7pm on March 11: www.jw3.org.uk/whats-on
