As published at the Times of Israel Blog on July 12, 2024.

Groucho Marx once told a story about Otto Kahn, a wealthy financier who some say inspired the “Rich Uncle Pennybags” character in the Monopoly game. In the 1920s, Kahn was dubbed “The King of New York” by Time Magazine. He also gave millions to the Metropolitan Opera, even though they were reluctant to let him buy a box because he was Jewish.

Groucho’s story explained that Kahn had a close friend by the name of Marshall P. Wilder, who had a severe spinal condition. One day, they passed by a synagogue on Fifth Avenue. Kahn turned to Wilder and said, “You know, I used to be a Jew.” “Really?” said Wilder. “I used to have a bad back.”

This anecdote highlights the inescapability of one’s Jewish identity. Antisemitism, often called the oldest form of hatred, has always existed and likely always will. There is little I or anyone else can say or do to eliminate it.

Yet, as Deborah Lipstadt wrote in her book “Antisemitism Here and Now,” we all know what we stand against, but what do we stand for? Antisemitism cannot be the linchpin of our identity. We Jews need to “balance the ‘oy’ with the ‘joy’.” She emphasized, “Never stop fighting the good fight, even as you rejoice in who you are.”

My next series of blog posts, “Trials of a Jewish Lawyer,” are stories about the “joy” of being a Jew in an otherwise secular world. One source of antisemitism and all forms of group hatred has been the “dislike of the unlike.” If I don’t know you or what you stand for, it is easy to hate you. We can positively influence our relationships with others by staying true to our Jewish identity.

This first story illustrates how we can break down barriers and build positive relationships.

During an important project, I met with 20 non-Jewish colleagues, all client employees. I opted for chips and an apple when lunch was served, as the rest of the food was not kosher.

The VP of Tax, whom we’ll call Tom, encouraged me to take a sandwich. I demurred and said the three things observant Jews typically say when confronted with non-kosher options: “That’s OK; don’t worry about me.” “I’m not really that hungry.” And, “It’s OK, I’d prefer to just snack on the chips and apple.”

Tom kept pushing, worried I wouldn’t partake in the scrumptious feast. I then explained that while I was sure the lunch was high quality, I kept kosher, and the sandwiches were not kosher.

Tom felt terrible. The next day, Tom called. “Would it be OK for the next meeting if I ordered some food from a nearby deli?” I reassured him I’d manage.

Two days later, he called again. “Paul, did you know that the nearby deli isn’t kosher? But I found a place that will deliver Glatt Kosher food. Is that OK?” “Tom,” I said, “Knock yourself out! Whatever they deliver is fine.”

A couple of weeks later, we gathered for our next meeting. After the introductory remarks, it was time to order lunch. Tom stood up and explained, “When Paul was here last time,” at which point I felt like crawling under the table, “he couldn’t eat the lunch because it wasn’t kosher. So, I ordered a special meal for him this time. And, while I was at it, I also ordered kosher lunches for EVERYONE.”

When the lunches arrived, the 20 or so attendees had to tear through three layers of plastic wrap in search of anything edible. But we spent the entire business lunch talking about kosher—what it means, why we follow the rules, what makes food kosher, and what makes us kosher.

At one point, a woman asked me about the benchers. She held one up, noting that the only English text on the card instructed us to return them to the restaurant or dispose of them properly.

I explained that these cards have the blessings we recite after eating. Because they include G-d’s name, we don’t desecrate them. She got up from the table and went to the trash to retrieve all the benchers that people unknowingly threw out so she could return them to the restaurant.

As we wrapped up the meeting, Tom approached me with a smile. “Paul, thank you for teaching us about kosher food and your traditions. It’s been enlightening, and we all learned a lot.”

I smiled back. “Thank you for your willingness to learn and accommodate. It means a lot.”

This experience underscores how the power of genuine curiosity and respect for each other’s sincerely held beliefs can lead to greater understanding and mutual respect. In a world where differences often divide, embracing and respecting our differences can bring us closer together.