‘Long Story Short’ — Bad for the Jews?

This post contains mild spoilers

First, let me say I really enjoyed watching “Long Story Short”. And, I was even deeply moved by its portrayals of what’s meaningful about Judaism and why a person might choose it. So, if you’re interested in Jews or things Jewish (or you just really love adult animation like I do), don’t wait — get on Netflix right away and watch this 10-episode portrayal of the dynamics of an American Jewish family. You’ll probably laugh a lot, but you might have to fight tears back too, like I did when a kind of ghost appears suddenly and guides a somewhat fractured family through the ritual of lighting candles to welcome Shabbat, a Shabbat they intend to celebrate together. 

It was what I call a L’dor Vador — from generation to generation — moment, bringing to life for me the miracle that it is that our so often oppressed and hated people has endured. It sparked a deep gratitude in me for the gift of Shabbat and, especially, the people, like my Father of blessed memory, who have, against all odds, sought to preserve our ways, our identity and our sense of the importance of being together.

But when the tears had dried on my face, I found myself asking, “is that it? Is this really such a great victory, that one family for just one night decides to follow the call to light candles and share a meal? What about all the rest of Judaism and Jewishness? What about keeping Kosher? Or keeping Shabbat in an in-depth way, including refraining from work as well as  putting your smart phones down for a day? Being a regular part of a synagogue? What about all the other Shabbats of the year?

Of course, that list makes it sound like I think being religiously observant is the only way to be Jewish. But my real point actually has to do with the opposite, with the importance of there being a place for secular Jews and about what it takes to maintain that place.

I was such a secular Jew for many years while I was still living in America. But, even though I never set foot in a synagogue, I maintained a strong Jewish identity and a sense of connection to all the other Jews in the world — to their life and story. And that came from what worked — what worked on an emotional level, in the kishkes — about the Judaism of my childhood.

In that Judaism — suburban and in the Conservative Movement like that of the show’s matriarch — my parents certainly cared about Judaism as a religion. But almost nothing of that importance got communicated to me as a child. The High Holidays, for example, struck me only as some strange, dark thing the adults engaged in, sitting in a boring, stifling synagogue all day; I formed no emotional connection to that.

But something else my parents did helped me form a strong bond in my gut to the rest of the Jews — they showed that they cared deeply about the fate of other Jews in the world. They marched in support of the Jews who were then trapped behind the Soviet Union’s Iron Curtain. They supported the Jews of Israel in any way they could and, more importantly for my development, showed on their faces the deep pain and fear they felt when Israel’s very existence seemed at threat in the wars of ‘67 and ‘73. They taught me that Judaism is not just about identifying with a religion, it’s also about belonging to a people — about peoplehood. This is a fundamental difference between Judaism and most forms of Christianity, Judaism is connected to being part of a particular people, and to their collective story through time.

But you won’t find any trace of the peoplehood part of Judaism in the family of “Long Story Short”. And I doubt that was actually true in the family the show was inspired by — the suburban Jewish family of show creator Raphael Bob-Waksberg. My guess is there was plenty of concern and talk about non-American Jews, especially the Jews of Israel. But, apparently for some kind of idea of artistic reasons, Israel has just been completely excised from this fictional Jewish family.

That’s not just my opinion. Bob-Waksberg admits to censoring Israel out of the show — he even censors the word “Israel” out of his admission about this: “I mean, there’s a specific issue we’re talking around right now,” he said in an interview with Variety. “And I’m doing that deliberately, because I have found that when we talk about it, it takes all the air out of the room. It makes everything about that.”

Bob-Waksberg may think his choice is a neutral one, because he’s not taking any side in the debate over Israel. But censorship — erasure — is never neutral. It carries a powerful message, one that is very painful for this citizen of Israel. He’s presenting a vision of being Jewish that at its core has no connection to other Jews around the world, especially the half of the world’s Jews who live here. He’s — through the power of his compelling artistic vision — helping the people who think they can make Judaism nothing but a religion feel ok about actually living out a peoplehood-free version of Jewishness.

And there’s nothing neutral about that. It’s not only bad for the Jews outside of America, but also for the Jews of America. Because secular Jews need a place to thrive as Jews too, and a secular Jewish identity can’t really exist for long without some kind of anchor beyond an affection for bagels and lox, and for matzah ball soup. I loved those foods all the years I was a secular Jew, but what really kept me anchored to my Jewishness was my sense of connection with — of caring for — all the other Jews of the world. For me, that eventually led to adopting a more explicitly religious life, to moving to Israel and to raising two (Jewish) children here. The power of peoplehood did that for me and “Long Story Short” erases all of that. (It also helps perpetuate the kind of arrogant prejudice I grew up with — the idea that the culture and norms of American Ashkenazi Jews are those of all Jews.)

That’s not to say it isn’t an incredibly well-done show, one that takes the spirituality of Judaism seriously in a way rarely seen — like many, I was especially touched by its portrayal of how the collective (“we” voice) aspect of our liturgy might move a person to choose to adopt a Jewish life. But the show is also an example of a troubling trend in the American non-Orthodox Jewish world, a choice by many to essentially disappear half the Jews of the world, to act, as if caring about other Jews isn’t an essential part of what it’s always meant to be Jewish. 

And that’s not good for the Jews.