For me, November rode in on a wave of cynicism and dread. But the month — which signals a descent into the darkness of winter — has become a season of greater ideals.
As the month began, I felt weary of the campaign’s negativity. For many, it had become a conflict not between different proposals for a shared goal but between good and evil, right and wrong.
Newspapers assailed President George W. Bush for his legacy after eight years in office: two wars, the unyielding threat of terrorism and a collapsing world economy.
And then came Election Day. I have heard from community members of all political affiliations who were struck by the historic nature of Barack Obama’s election as the 44th president.
Particularly powerful were stories in the news media about Black centenarians who voted for an African-American as president as they remembered their parents, who had once been slaves. In a Nov. 5 column in the New York Times, journalist Thomas Friedman declared that the Civil War had finally ended.
As the granddaughter of immigrants, as a Jew who has always felt like an Other, I recognize the magnitude of Obama’s election. And I ask, when will we celebrate the milestone of a Jewish president? When will we consider a female candidate without focusing unabashedly on her appearance?
This election is momentous also because it reminded Americans to refocus on higher ideals, beyond partisan politics, D.C. power wrangling and the conflict of the moment.
Obama has been derided for being too eloquent but I believe that his call for unity and idealism feeds a deep hunger in America: People want to believe that their personal stories fit into a larger narrative in which right may indeed conquer wrong and fear does not control the spirit. The image of the United States as a home for all — “tired,” “poor” and “huddled masses” included — is still clear and sharp.
I felt that spirit this weekend at two community events. On Saturday night, I saw the Afro Semitic Experience, a multi-faith and multi-cultural ensemble that arrived in Milwaukee as part of the Jewish Book and Culture Fair.
The show was a wild festival of musical genre in which jazz, African tunes and cantorial solos merged and emerged, harmonious and whole. It reminded me how the old model of America’s diversity — the melting pot — has given way to a new model — the rainbow, in which each color is distinct and brilliant.
The audience of about 250 people sat quietly and respectfully, bobbing their heads, until a magic moment when the percussionist, Baba David Coleman, signaled for everyone to get up and dance. In an instant, having been granted permission, the crowd was on its feet and exuberant.
I believe that the excitement was only partly about the tunes. What got a quiet crowd boogieing was the band’s story and its successful experiment to celebrate faiths and races.
We’re accustomed to seeing white Jews play African drums but when do we see African Americans singing Jewish cantorial music? It was uplifting — and hopeful, I would venture — to hear “Eliyahu Hanavi” transformed into a rich, jazzy and genre-busting piece.
Those higher ideals are part of the group’s vision, according to bassist David Chevan’s Web site: “Through our concerts, recordings and workshops, we are actively creating an artistic response to anti-Semitism and racism of all forms. This is our ongoing mission and it is of central importance to us.”
The next afternoon, I returned to the fair and caught the Art Expo Boutique, where local artists shared their work. I was stunned by the number of Jewish artists in our midst and the range of their talents, from primitive and worldly metal work and hamsas to delicate jewelry to colorful textiles.
My friend, Julie Zvi, showed me her booth and pointed out a particular painting that had drawn an unusual amount of attention. It was of three children standing before a rainbow. What was it about that painting, she mused?
It’s a continuation of last night, I thought. Though arguably no more artful or esthetically pleasing than her other colorful, soulful designs, this one stood out for its message — hope. As parents dream of their children’s future, this image tells of endless possibility and supreme optimism.
In his menschlich concession speech last Tuesday night, Sen. John McCain captured that spirit: “I call on all Americans, as I have often in this campaign, to not despair of our present difficulties but to believe always in the promise and greatness of America, because nothing is inevitable here.”
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