The Mezuzah and the Crucifix

Rabbi Susie (maybe her real name) is looking at me with great perplexity. She seems to be having difficulty producing an entire sentence in more than a few words at a time. She’s also doing that quizzical tone thing that some might find disarming. I perceive it as hostile. "So, you’re Catholic? . . . but you’re Jewish?"

We’re in the green room before taping a show produced by a Catholic diocese, hosted by a priest and a rabbi. I have found out at the last possible minute that I am not the sole guest, as initially promised and invited.

I’m supposed to be talking about how so many of the home-based traditions observed by Catholic Christians do, in fact, find their roots in Jewish practices. Some of these connections are obvious, like the tradition of reciting blessings before and after meals. Some are less so, like including obvious symbols of religious identity as part of home décor. Even some non-observant Jews will affix a mezuzah to doorways, just as some non-religious Catholics will hang a crucifix in their bedrooms. (No, I am not saying that mezuzah = crucifix. If you think I am, then pretty please think at a more meta level.)

My being born and raised Jewish is apparently not enough. Someone has decided that I need either rabbinical supervision or company on the show. I suspect it’s the former because Rabbi Susie asks, "and you . . . go to synagogue?"

I dearly want to tell her that but if not for the women of my generation, she wouldn’t be a rabbi at all. Instead, I say something about not feeling welcome in synagogues.

Rabbi Susie looks even more perplexed. If a thought bubble could appear over her head, I’m sure it would be inscribed with something like, "Why the Gehenna would you even want to attend synagogue?" My thought bubble back would be inscribed with…

I’m irked. I want this rabbi, allegedly so keen on Christian-Jewish dialogue, to stop being so partisan and parochial. I would like Rabbi Susie to have a little historical perspective, to recall that Judaism may have always been monotheistic but was never monolithic. I’d like her to remember that plenty of contemporary Jews don’t bother with religious practices but consider themselves culturally Jewish. (Note: Check out Patrick Aleph’s post, "What Flavor of New Jew Are You?)

"Well," I say as nicely as I can muster, "one does not suddenly stop being a Jew." But Rabbi Susie still looks very confused and slightly troubled by this, so I decide to stop being so nice and mention St. Teresa Benedicta of the Cross.

"Edith Stein," I say and Rabbi Susie looks slightly less baffled, but I can tell she’s starting to connect some dots. "Marched into the gas chambers at Auschwitz wearing her Carmelite habit. Do you think she didn’t know she was a Jew?"

There’s more to this story, of course. I made my point in the green room and the show went on. I left the studio, had corned beef on rye with deli mustard for lunch, and prayed that the post-production editing be superb. It was, thank God.

Years later, when I’m writing Why Is There a Menorah on the Altar? I’ll spend a considerable amount of time wondering in how much detail I’ll need to explain what constitutes a cultural identity and a religious identity; how those identities merge and manifest for Jews; how understanding all this might help Christians appreciate the cultural legacy of Judaism. I’ll wonder if and when I’ll need to mention Edith Stein.