The store always seemed to be crowded, even when it wasn’t, and that afternoon was no exception. I only needed a few things so I was finished with the actual shopping fairly quickly. I wove back between the shoppers, carts and strollers and took my place at the back of the checkout line which was, predictably, almost at the back of the store. The other tortoises and I moved forward, slowly but steadily, making sure to glance up from our phones frequently enough to make sure we hadn’t fallen behind.
I was about halfway to the registers when a particular “‘Tis the Season” display caught my eye. The rest of the store had been outfitted, just like most stores are at this time of year, with snowflakes, evergreen trees and red and white hats sporadically dotting the walls and aisles. But at that spot, hanging from the ceiling, were large cardboard dreidels, painted in a variety of colors not unlike the apples on the table below them. Just above each dreidel was a cutout of a coin, each one representing a different country’s currency.
I loved the dreidels.
I didn’t love the coins.
It’s a somewhat well-known tradition that Jews give each other gelt – chocolate coins – on Hanukkah. The gelt is used not only to pacify coax smiles out of younger children but as currency when spinning the aforementioned dreidels (dreidel is, at its core, a gambling game). In that sense, the coins fit perfectly with the dreidels as part of the Hanukkah display.
I couldn’t help but wonder, though, about the people who are not aware of the role gelt plays in Hanukkah customs. I imagined someone rolling their eyes at the ridiculous length of the supermarket checkout line, noticing the dreidels and the coins and drawing the wrong conclusion about their meaning. The customary use of gelt and money on Hanukkah might be fairly common knowledge, but the stereotypical characterization of Jews as money-grubbing and greedy has been spread for centuries.1
Jews have always had a complicated relationship with money. European Jews weren’t allowed to own land to farm or to join professional guilds so they made their livings as merchants and bankers. The Protocols of the Elders of Zion, a fabricated anti-Semitic document that originated in Russia in the early 1900s and publicized as the secret basis of the Jewish conspiracy to conquer the world, focuses on the Jews’ need to control global wealth in order to broaden their reach. Shakespeare’s The Merchant of Venice was published in 1596 and involves a Jewish moneylender who lends money to a non-Jew on the condition that he can cut off one pound of the non-Jew’s flesh if he defaults on the loan. Even the New Testament makes reference to the money-changers in the Holy Temple in Jerusalem. The Bible doesn’t necessarily refer to the money-changers as corrupt but Jesus’ disgust with their presence in the Temple carries the implication that there was something impure about their actions.
I pictured a customer finishing his shopping, getting in line and seeing that display with coins alongside the dreidels. I tried to decide which images would have come to his mind as he stood waiting for his turn to check out. I didn’t see him thinking about children laughing at the tiny top spinning between them, cheering for the letter gimmel and wincing at a shin. I didn’t see him grinning at the thought of children competing to see if they could make a coin spin as long as a dreidel. I didn’t see his lips parting into a bemused smile as the kids found themselves with stomach-aches after having gorged themselves on too much chocolate.
Instead, I saw him draw the same historical link that other cultures have made about Jews. I watched him notice the coins next to the dreidels and think of names like Goldman, Sachs and Madoff. I saw his eyes narrow, ever so slightly, as he attributed any financial struggles in his life to the group of people that has always drawn the ire of surrounding cultures.
I know that this man I imagined was just that – imaginary. I know that most people would have seen the dreidels and the coins and shrugged them off as a sign of inclusion for the Jews in the neighborhood. I know that one of the reasons I made the leap to potential anti-Semitic feelings is that I’d spent the day before visiting the new Auschwitz exhibit at the Museum of Jewish Heritage and my emotional reactions were still fresh in my mind.
However, I also know that deep-seeded prejudice – especially anti-Semitism – never truly goes away. It may lie dormant when it is considered socially unacceptable to express negative sentiments about Jews in polite company. It may pass out of society’s main consciousness from time to time. But then, while some people might argue that “the rise in anti-Semitism isn’t happening among ordinary Americans,” three people were just shot in a Jersey City kosher supermarket, to say nothing of the horrible synagogue shootings in Pittsburgh in October 2018 and San Diego in April 2019.
I have no doubt that the supermarket staff that hung those lovely dreidels from the ceiling had the best of intentions. I’m sure that they considered the coins an added touch of inclusion for a group that still feels overlooked too often.
I just couldn’t help but wonder if the customers shared those same sentiments.
1. There’s a reason why some people think Ebenezer Scrooge is Jewish.↩
I’m very glad you wrote this. It’s not only your usual great writing, it’s particularly honestly you, and I think it illuminates how important it is we think very critically and get the right people involved in our moves to attempt inclusiveness.
Decorating spaces needs to come with sensitivity and as much awareness as possible. It’s important to use an artist who knows much meaning will be derived from works done, and can handle the weight that the combination of symbols and context carry. This piece points out the unexpected and likely unintended (but also very real) outcomes when that awareness isn’t quite tuned up.
You’re right, there was likely no harm intended. However, it’s a gift to share your perspective so people can learn about how their work translates. Thank you for sharing.
Thanks so much for reading, Sam, and for taking the time to respond so thoughtfully. I’ve often wondered about how well (or poorly) people from a target audience are represented at the decision-making tables, though I also don’t know how much of a difference that would have made here. Again, I’m assuming the intentions were genuine, but who knows?