It was a case of life imitating media.

Mere days after New Republic writer Gregg Easterbrook apologized for appending, for no apparent reason, the word "Jewish" to the phrase "… executives [who] worship money above all else," in an otherwise laudable denunciation of Hollywood excess, I experienced my own "anti-Semitic-slur-out-of-the-blue" moment.

The New Republic's editors also apologized for what Mr. Easterbrook (an insightful and talented observer of, among much else, religious matters) wrote in his weblog, characterizing him as a "good individual" who "erred" in writing a "bad thing." He is not, they insist, "an anti-Semite."

Indeed he may well not be, at least not in the classical sense. But the lesson of l'affaire Easterbrook, to me, is that anti-Semitism (like, likely, racism too) can sleep quietly in many an otherwise sublime soul, only to awaken and growl in moments of carelessness or anger. To be sure, the term "anti-Semite" should be reserved for those troubled souls who are obsessed with Jewish people, but the "ism" itself is nevertheless more common, if quiescent, than we might think.

My personal experience involved my Staten Island neighbor Fred, as I shall call him. My wife and I don't have much to do with Fred and Agnes, as I shall call her; they are at least a decade older than we, and if they have children, they are grown and living elsewhere. We, who are clearly identifiable as Orthodox Jews, have several children still living with us. And, in any event, I just sleep at home; like many New Yorkers, I basically live at work. But Fred and I have exchanged pleasantries, and my 13-year old son helped Fred, who isn't in great shape, shovel out from under last winter's blizzard.

What happened recently was that my 19-year-old daughter, a new driver, scratched Agnes' car's bumper while parking. Though neither Fred nor Agnes witnessed the crime (nor, likely, would have even noticed the scratch), my daughter, true to how she was raised, took pains to notify the victims. Fred seemed thankful and promised to have "his man" give her an estimate for painting over the scratch. We preferred to not file a claim and thereby court the insurance gods' wrath.

When the estimate came in at over $300, I suggested to my daughter, who is without great financial resources, that she ask Fred and Agnes to please secure another estimate. They balked, to put it mildly; Agnes raved and ranted so vociferously she drove my daughter to tears. I took the phone and wasn't able to get a word in edgewise.

A bit later, Fred came to the door and demanded the name of our insurer, a request I chose not to honor. We were prepared to pay for the damage without filing a claim, but $300 just seemed a bit exorbitant for a small touch-up job; I didn't feel it was inappropriate to request a second estimate.

Fred, though, disagreed, to put it delicately. He huffed and puffed and threatened to go to the police, which I acknowledged was his prerogative, although I wasn't quite sure what the charge might be. And then, just before he stormed away, he remarked, "gahdam #&!%#$% Jew!"

As I considered if it wouldn't have been wise to just have handed him the money he had demanded, I also pondered his parting words.

Do Fred and Agnes sit around planning cemetery stone swastika-painting? I don't think so. Do they deliver Mahatir Mohammed-style speeches to each other bemoaning the Grand Jewish Conspiracy? Nah.

But deep within them (or at least Fred; I'll give Agnes the benefit of the doubt), apparently, there festers an at least latent Jew-hatred. Is it of a kind with the animus that Hitler so effectively tapped in the German people in the 1930s? I don't know, and hope never to find out. But it's not inconceivable.

Assuming that he hadn't found any relief at the police station, I left a note in Fred's mailbox the next day. I made no mention of his colorful comment and just reiterated that I was asking only for one other estimate for the job, and assured him that he would have a check in hand as soon as I could compare the two work orders.

He responded several days later by dropping off a claim estimate from own his insurance company, assigning considerably less money for the paint job but adding an additional several hundred dollars for body damage he was now claiming. It was odd that he was apparently filing an insurance claim himself but he nevertheless reiterated his demand for my daughter's $300. She, as an observant #&!%#$% Jew, paid him promptly so that the scratched area could be repainted without delay.

Unfortunately, there's another bit of damage, hidden deep within Fred, that isn't so easily repaired.

_________________________________
AM ECHAD RESOURCES

[Rabbi Avi Shafran is director of public affairs for Agudath Israel of America]

posted to JLaw.com: 12-16-03