Communities, no matter how hard they might try, are not monolithic. Even if everyone comes together for a shared purpose, within the community smaller pockets will emerge. A strong community will allow for those dynamic elements and find a way to keep them connected. A weak community will see the "other" as part of "dangerous factions" who are a threat to the overall fabric of the larger community.
We see this often at the national level when one dominant ethnic group wields power over another and there is conflict, or worse. Or within political parties, especially common here in Israel, where splintering into new, smaller parties is preferable to being a more dynamic and inclusive group. And we see it in religion, and in particular we see it in Judaism.
There is one large umbrella of Judaism; one overarching set of principals that are fundamental to the concept of the religion. But then as hairs start to split, populations move from one country to another, traditions and practices evolve, leadership roles expand or contract, then things start to be a little less welcoming.
Too often, here in Israel, I hear language of "they" when talking about Reform Judaism and Reform Jews - even coming from Conservative/Masorti Jews. And Orthodox Jews talk in the language of "they" when referencing those not in line with their beliefs and practices, even other Orthodox Jews.
Switching to talk in the "we" and "us" language instead makes for a more inclusive effort, at least linguistically. It connects all the members of various subgroups together and creates a platform to acknowledge and recognize each other. And that, it seems, is very scary. Validation of the other is hard. It might bring about change that will be difficult to accept. I would posit, however, that at the end of the day, a simple linguistic shift could lead to greater acceptance, understanding, empathy, and community. The language we use is based deep in our brains and psyche and reveal something worth examining in ourselves and our backgrounds.
We build togetherness. They create isolation.
We see this often at the national level when one dominant ethnic group wields power over another and there is conflict, or worse. Or within political parties, especially common here in Israel, where splintering into new, smaller parties is preferable to being a more dynamic and inclusive group. And we see it in religion, and in particular we see it in Judaism.
There is one large umbrella of Judaism; one overarching set of principals that are fundamental to the concept of the religion. But then as hairs start to split, populations move from one country to another, traditions and practices evolve, leadership roles expand or contract, then things start to be a little less welcoming.
Too often, here in Israel, I hear language of "they" when talking about Reform Judaism and Reform Jews - even coming from Conservative/Masorti Jews. And Orthodox Jews talk in the language of "they" when referencing those not in line with their beliefs and practices, even other Orthodox Jews.
Switching to talk in the "we" and "us" language instead makes for a more inclusive effort, at least linguistically. It connects all the members of various subgroups together and creates a platform to acknowledge and recognize each other. And that, it seems, is very scary. Validation of the other is hard. It might bring about change that will be difficult to accept. I would posit, however, that at the end of the day, a simple linguistic shift could lead to greater acceptance, understanding, empathy, and community. The language we use is based deep in our brains and psyche and reveal something worth examining in ourselves and our backgrounds.
We build togetherness. They create isolation.
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