Apologizing for ignorance

I saw several Facebook statuses Saturday with the message, “Where were you on September 11, 2001?” with peoples’ own stories after it.

I remember where I was. I’ll never forget.

That question has become similar to the “Where were you when Kennedy was shot?” of my parents’ generation.

But where were you on September 11, 2010? Were you attending a rally or remembrance ceremony? Were you taking a few minutes to think about the tragedy?

Were you living a normal life?

I was sitting in an apartment in London, checking the news every so often, hoping to see one man had decided to stand down.

Gainesville Pastor Terry Jones made news this week with his planned attempt to burn copies of the Quran, the Muslim holy book, on the anniversary of the tragedy. He decided not to, but the plan created an international uproar.

National and international leaders, religious or not, took a stand on the issue. My own rabbi even sent out his opinion in his weekly “Shabbat Shalom” e-mail.

Was Jones’s plan legal? Yes.

But just because it was legal doesn’t make it right.

Far be it for me to infringe on anyone’s First Amendment rights, which I hold dear. But some common sense should go along with it. When the State Department has to issue a travel advisory for citizens in foreign countries, your demonstration is going too far.

The bibliophile in me says you shouldn’t burn books anyway. And as a member of a minority religion with a history of being subjected to violent hate crimes, I’ve seen where that can lead.

The Nazis burned religious texts too, right before they committed genocide.

I was relieved that Jones cancelled his rally.  No good could have come from that, and he was literally endangering people across the globe. But some of his announcement still stuck me hard.

“Jones also again compared his actions to the biblical story of Abraham, whom God told to sacrifice his son Isaac on a mountaintop,” Politics Daily said. “Abraham was set to do the deed when an angel stayed his hand, and God provided a ram to sacrifice instead. Jones said he ‘was also called to do something crazy,’ and now God at the last moment indicated he should hold off. ‘Of course, Abraham was much wiser than us. He told no one,’ Jones said.”

When I read that passage, I thought, “What ironic timing, and that schmuck probably has no idea.”

Rosh Hashanah, the Jewish new year, began Wednesday at sundown. The Torah, or holy book, is on giant scrolls and is mostly read from beginning to end throughout the year. There are a few exceptions. For instance, on Rosh Hashanah, we read the story of Abraham’s almost-sacrifice of Isaac.

“Take now thy son, thine only son Isaac, whom thou lovest, and get thee into the land of Moriah and offer him there for a burnt offering” is the translation in the Westminster Synagogue prayer book.

It’s not a story I particularly like (What good deity would ask his most ardent follower to sacrifice his only (acknowledged) child, test or not? What man would be willing to do it?), but I go to Rosh Hashana services every year and listen to it and treat it as holy.

So a self-centered and dangerous nut job compares his plan to upset a lot of people to one of the holiest and well-known stories in my religious text?

That’s just great.

I’ll give him something — he probably didn’t realize he was saying this right after the holiday. A man who would disrespect Islam so much that he would burn copies of its holy book isn’t the kind of man who pays enough attention to other religions to know the significance of that story during this period of time.

But just because he didn’t know doesn’t mean I’m not offended. Probably not nearly as offended as people whose holy book he was trying to burn.

As my accent gives me away at everything from the pub to the grocery store, I have to stop myself from apologizing for my country and telling everyone I meet that this one man doesn’t speak for all Americans.


E-mail: hanns@indiana.edu