Judaism

About Charlie

I was actually going to write this post two weeks ago, following the Charlie Hebdo attacks on 7 January that rocked half of Europe – and quite possibly a good part of the remaining world.

I do not agree with what you have to say, but I will defend to the death your right to say it. – Voltaire

As much as I can relate to the epidemic of “Je suis Charlie” postings on Facebook I could not quite go along with it. Is it okay to ridicule someone else’s believes by publishing caricatures violating every inch of religious feeling? No, it most certainly is not. But it is of course even less okay to decide to go out and kill journalists just because you do not agree with what they are publishing. Just as the famous Voltaire quote goes freedom of speech only works when it is granted even to those we disagree with most.

So far for the regular European perspective; the notion of standing up and saying “enough is enough”. But for me, of course, there is more to it than meets the eye. And these things are right at the centre of the themes this blog has always been about: My connection to Israel and her people and my own identity as a European Pagan.

(c) Rafael Mantesso

(c) Rafael Mantesso

As far as the Israeli perspective goes the Charlie Hebdo attacks and the aftermath were a sad wake-up call that radical Islam is a force to be reckoned with even in the very heard of Europe. And to add insult to injury there was, of course, the whole Pallywood circus about how allegedly Mossad directed the attacks in order to blame radical Islam and stall peace talks in Israel. (What peace talks exactly that would be referring to right now and how it could stall them is, of course, a completely different question).

The sad truth is that Jews in Europe still do not feel safe. And sometimes I catch myself thinking that no, maybe they indeed should not. In France, I read the other day 50% of all racist attacks are directed against Jews who make only 1% of the population. At the moment there hardly seems to be a week going by without a Synagogue or other place frequented by Jews burning somewhere in Europe; 70 years after the end of Jewish prosecution in Europe Jews still rightfully feel they need extra security for their venues even though they are a tiny little group of “different” people against which there is little to no public outcry. Am I the only European who feels the people of Europe ought to be rallying behind their Jewish population just like they did behind the Charlie Hebdo victims? Yet when another Synagogue burns down it is hardly worth a front-page article in the local news.

 

“Do you know why I care so much about a tolerant Europe?”, I asked my mom the other day. It is because I am Pagan and chances are so will be my children. And with the rise of more self-confident second and third generation Paganism I am convinced that sooner or later we will also be more present in public life. A lot is already happening in the US in respect to recognition and protection of Pagan rights. Europe might right now be a calmer – and safer – place for a Pagan to live but eventually European Pagans, too, will become more visible.

Paganism is a completely different beast to all the religions we are struggling to deal with in European society right now. There is a relatively easy way of grasping who and what “the Christians”, “the Muslims”, “the Jews” and even “the Hindus” and “the Buddhists” are. It won’t be so simple with Paganism. We are a way more diverse group; we have no internal organisation worth speaking of; nobody that could speak for all or at least many of us. And of course we have a mindset that is becoming increasingly more different to that of followers of the Abrahamite religions. I see it in myself and also in may others in the Pagan blog sphere; once you have been Pagan for 15 or 20 years you start to feel how you think differently to non-Pagans; how your value system changes. The Wild Hunt for instance just recently posted an article about how Pagan religion afflicts the treatment of mental disorder but it is only a small spotlight on an increasingly different world view.

Coping with Paganism as a part of the intercultural mix that is Europe will be a challenge for our society. It will mean that people have to widen their horizons and look behind shared Abrahamite norms in order to allow Pagans in their midst. How are we going to accomplish that if European society cannot even cope with the variety Judaism and Islam add?

I feel that I need Europe to become more tolerant so I know my children and children’s children can be the self-confident, strong Pagans that I would want them to be. And ultimately, as sad as it is to think this way, I need Europe to become more tolerant so I will never have to fear for their safety and they will never have to hide their Pagan identity out of fear of prosecution.

– Migdalit

The Imbred Antisemitism of Upper Austria

Hello there,

Reading „der Lindwurm“’s blog on an Austrian Nazi-guy in a Klagenfurt hospital I started wondering about how much really is left of Nazi opinion in Austria. As a matter of fact the whole topic never was anyhow important to me until – and this awas mostly good luck – I ended up going to Tel Aviv. The only story of my own I can share here is on Skinheads in the Austrian town of Ried – besides Braunau the one Upper Austrian town to be known for a serious Skinhead problem. When visiting friends in Ried as a teenager I got to know first-hand about a „Skins night out“ – even if only later I learnt the term to go with it. We were just enjoying ourselves when we heard drunken singing comming close. I couldn’t even understand the words but the locals knew very well. And they knew the night was over; we went back home and in the next morning I saw the windows that had been destroyed by multiple flying objects.

Skinheads, true, but I have always had that theory that if you shaved the head of some other drunk, hitting-each-other youthgroup and put them in the midst of a Skinhead gang nobody would recognize – and vice versa. (I would love to try this one day!) I have never perceived Skinheads as a problem of nazi revival, but rather as a problem of empty youth’s heads filled with the first brainless slogan that came their way, paired with violence aired at the first target available. There is no nazi motive behind scaring other teenagers and breaking random windows. All there is as a motive is the orgasm of power in a group.

However I have a very dear and good Jewish Israeli friend – who has never actually been to Germany and to Austria only later – who wouldn’t get tired of explaining to me that Germans and Austrians were racist, antisemitic nazis in the midst of their heard as if it was bred into both peoples. When I had her over for Christmas / Yule a year later she told me she was afraid. She told me to think twice whom I told she was a Jew. But she trusted me enough to come.

There sure is trouble when you are actively looking for it. My father – to whom I owe the delight in debates and politics – said one sentence she took as a sign for hidden antisemitism and she would be telling me she told me for the rest of her stay. It was the old thing about „The Jews killed Jesus“ she keeps pointing at as the cause of the inbred antisemitism of Europe. And of course he – he’s my dad, remember – said so exactly because I had dropped the phrase would send her ablaze. My father might be Christian, but he is no kind of after-the-book Christian, but one by heard and daily life. Even if „the Jews“ indeed killed Jesus it would be no more for him then – plain – history. Besides before S. got me started on the issue I had never heard a sentence like „The Jews killed Jesus“, nor had I ever been aware of anyone using it to push antisemitism.

What I was pretty aware of during and before those weeks she spent with me in Austria was the out-of-the-book Austrian hospitality that arose as soon as I announced her comming. People all the way from my family to my friends made such an efford! People kept my telephone busy asking questions about kosher cusine. My dad, for instance, who runs a restaurant had invited us over for the staff Christmas dinner. He’s normally doing Austrian cuisine full of pork, creamy sauces and butter as a basic ingredience to every dish imaginable. S. would just offer she’d stick to vegetables but by dad wouldn’t have any of it. I don’t know how many hours I spent on the phone with him figuring out how to change the dinner so S. would have a decent meal. Funny enough that way we created a dish – a kind of a chicken „Schweinsbraten“ – that has made it to his menue as a low-fat alternative afterwards. People at the dinner – as far as their English supported it – were really great too. They were so warm and interested in Israel and kosher kitchen. Not from the conflict-perspecitve and not from the Jew-as-something-odd-perspecitive but simply from the „What do you eat there?“ „What are beautiful places to go?“ „Do you ever get to see snow?“ kind of angle. Exactly this was the naive, genuine reaction of random Austrians to the first ever Israeli and Jew they had met.

My mom made an efford showing off Austria. I know she was absolutely enjoying it. So we drove down to Gmunden – which is were the Alps start – and though it was terribly cold and we had a good laugh about S. being clad like a Yeti it was magic. We took a cable car up one of the mountains driving over the mist that covered the valley. At the snowy top of the mountain we had a breathtaking view at mountain tops rising over the mist. It looked like in a cheesy movie and my mom nearly bust from pride when S. pointed out it could stand besides the view of the Himalaya.

No, as far as (Upper) Austrians go, there definitely is no imbred racism or antisemitism or alike. There wasn’t a single raise of an eyebrow during all the stay that would have let me assume somebody objecting S. as a Jew or Israeli. There weren’t any second thoughts on whom to have her meet or where to take her to. What was there, instead, was an overwhelming hospitality I’ve heard people report on but had, until then, never experienced first-hand. Hospitality and pride showing off a small country I openly declare deserves it.

yours,

Migdalit

The Pagan Community

Merry meet,

as it appears Leileigh, a fellow pagan blogger, came across my recent articles on Beltaine and community. She contributed quite a bunch of interesting ideas I feel I cannot just write about in a comment so why don’t follow Avarra’s example and write a full blog entry about them, I thought.

Right in her first paragraph Leileigh states:

What made me consider this was a recent blog entry from Migdalit. She said that Paganism without community was not possible and I think I do not agree but more on that later.

I am afraid she got something wrong here. I did state that community was something special about Paganism, that’s true, and especially the way our communities function (or are meant to function) as opposed to Christian communities (just why does writing about Paganism always tend to turn into comparing Paganism to Christianity? May that be a normal mechanism given that having grown up as a Christian and “converted” to Paganism later on I’ll, in way, always be a child of two worlds?) however what I never intended to was to give the idea that Paganism was impossible without community. I do think that community is an important, if not vital part of basically any given religion – as Leileigh explains herself:

Imagine Jesus would have been a silent scholar. Not a preacher who talked to people and convinced them but someone who had it just thought up and maybe written it down. We wouldn’t have the Christianity we have today.

And also, imagine the people who were early Christians wouldn’t have cared that there were other Christians who believed the same thing. We also would have a very different picture (of course in the making of the picture we have today there are other important forces than just the people who felt they made up a community).  Without the sense of community there is no growth, no impact. And this also holds true for other non-religious movements like the Enlightenment. […]

However of course somebody can be a Pagan without being part of a “Pagan” community! As far as I, personally, am considered it will never be “the real thing”, but of course it is possible. I too, have – regrettably – been a Pagan without a community for too many years. And I’ll rather stay one then become a part of a community that doesn’t fit with my way of living Paganism (which of course includes communities of another tradition that shares my idea of multi-traditionalism). If Paganism wouldn’t be possible, I neither would be a “real Pagan”.

So much about that, but now on the questions as asked by Leileigh – and they sure are tough ones:

I mean, what is the “use” of being Pagan? That’s in itself such a personal thing. I am Pagan because that is my path. Why can’t you celebrate our festivals alone? Most my Pagan life I have celebrated alone. And I am content with it, maybe just because that’s all I know, but still, I do not miss like-minded people at those occasions. And when I did celebrate with other people, those weren’t even Pagan. (Last year on Beltane I had my best friend and girlfriend over and we just sat and chatted about this and that and on Litha we were at an amusement park. Great things to do for these festivals I thought.)

In a way this is sad: As I just recently discussed with Avarra we’re living in a world where people don’t do things without a reward. Humans don’t do things without a reward. I’d love to claim I was different, but I know my shades: I neither do things without a reward. So when Leileigh asks about the “use” of being Pagan she’s right to ask and “That is my path!” sure would be an appealing answer, but if I answered that way the logical next question would have to be: “Why is it my path?” And actually the longer I think about what to answer to this, the more I consider this might be a question to ask to every aspiring young witch starting her education on the Pagan 101: Why do you think Paganism is your path? What do you think it will give to you?

However, I start to ask questions instead of answering them. First of all, of course, I am Pagan because it just feels right. Because I know from the depth of my heard that this is where I belong, this is what fits my life, my philosophy. So what is my reward on that one? The good feeling of being on my way, being where I belong. Maybe nearly equally important is the control and power Paganism gives to me – prove me wrong: I don’t think there’s any Pagan out there who’s not hooked on that power – Paganism gives you the tools to seize control of your own life. It teaches you from the first day you hear about it that you have to take responsibility and that taking responsibility means being responsible for both your loss and your gain. In the end the only person who can bring a change upon your life is you – and you alone. The best of all opportunities could be given to you, but if you don’t see and seize it, it won’t change a thing (Actually there’s that great tale on the Jew sitting on his rooftop during a flood rejecting ladder, boat and helicopter for god is going to rescue him. The man dies and goes straight up to god where he complains god had left him alone. God answers: “I didn’t! I sent you a ladder, then a boat, finally even a helicopter but you didn’t use them!”).

Anyhow, the community-thing is included in my first sentence above. Community is a part of “where I belong”, for I think people do just belong with people. That community doesn’t necessarily need to be a Pagan one though; I too have celebrated Pagan fests with Christians, Jews and worse. And I’ve had quite a lot of fun doing so. However the real thing, the feeling that really gets you going and nearly high on energy – as esoteric as it may sound – is sharing that special day with like-minded people. Being part of a group of people and knowing that everybody there knows exactly about the importance and specialty of the day and everybody is just enjoying himself to honor it and, more important, to honor himself. I’ve had that in the past and I can’t help it but on every single one of those occasions it just felt so “right”, so meant to be. I just knew from the depth of my heard – the very same part then the one that told me Paganism was what got along with myself – that this was what it should be like and that, as hard as this may sound for you, Leileigh, everything else, every ritual done in private, was just an excuse for not being able to honor the earth and the sky, the elements and the gods in the proper way.

As Leileigh stated Paganism is a religion – or umbrella term for many religions, or philosophical ways – of many traditions. So my point of view, my feelings about the Pagan community might not necessarily be true for others. If someone says he’s fine with being alone on Beltaine I’m alright with it – I might even envy the person, actually – however for me it is not and will never be. And, to be frank, I do have a hard time imagining that Leileigh and like-minded would stay with their lone rituals if they had the opportunity to hook up with others and be part of the real big party. I do have a hard time believing that their solitude is a real chosen-by-themselves one, not one impressed upon them by a cosmos on hidden-in-the-broom-closet Pagans – worst of all hidden not from other religions’ members but rather from our own nudnikim. It’s fine to arrange with a situation you can’t quite change anyhow, however knowing your shade can spare you a lot of troubles so don’t take it as an offense if I ask you, Leileigh: Do you know your shade?

With the Earth’s blessings

Migdalit