Conflicts of the Heart
Last night I saw an amazing movie called The Believer. It is the story of a Jewish boy, Danny, who becomes a neo-Nazi. The movie shows his intense hatred of Jews and the Torah, and his obsession with everything Jewish. But the most surprising part of the movie is in a scene where he joins his skinhead friends in desecrating a synagogue. They're throwing around prayer books, spray-painting swastikas, and mockingly parading around in prayer shawls. But when one of the group takes a Torah out of the ark, Danny suddenly seems overtaken by conflicting emotions. He seems unable to bear the sight of a Torah being desecrated, and a scuffle ensues between him and his friends when he tries to stop them, who are baffled by his sudden show of sensitivity to their most reviled objects.
Watching an interview with the director, Henry Bean, from the DVD's bonus features, there was one thing he said that struck me:
This notion that somebody wants to be a Jew and a Nazi--not reconciling or synthesizing, but in a certain sense, being pulled apart by them, and wanting to be pulled apart by them--struck me as a very universal impulse. Of course, not always expressed in Judaism and Naziism, but I think people are drawn to contradiction. There is someting very invigorating and stimulating about contradiction.
I often feel that impulse for contradiction in my life as a Chasidic Jew. I am repulsed by so much that I believe is wrong within the Chasidic community. But there is a lot that I love about it, too. I despise the tribalism, the indifference to the yearnings and aspirations, joys and sorrows of mankind as a whole. Their lack of respect for other sincere expressions of spiritual searching. The denial of the existence of good and truth among the nations.
But I also have a deep love and respect for the Chasidim's devotion to their lifestyle. I am touched by the reverence they display for their leaders. Their kindness and generosity are overwhelming, at least when benefitting their own. I love the spiritual warmth of Chasidim farbrenging together at a Shalosh Seudos meal, or a tzaddik's yahrzeit in song, storytelling, and divrei Torah. The Chasidic melodies have the power transform one to a world where only love and closeness to G-d exist.
I have in the past been labeled a "self-hating Jew" when criticising fellow Jews, a "Goy lover" when expressing a sympathetic view toward a non-Jew, or "Arab lover" when expressing an understanding for the plight of Palestinians. It pains me that people have such difficulty recognizing the humanity in other humans. But I still understand that urge, having been raised on stories about the world's injustices committed against our people. I am conflicted between the feelings of rage against those who have wished us harm for many centuries, and the feelings of love for humanity and the desire to live in a world of peace and harmony.