let them kill me, I love being a Jew.

I took a couple five-year-old boys to the zoo today, a last 'hoorah' before the cold sets in. as we were walking through the park, stopping for what seemed like hours to gaze into cages of animals that seemed anything but interested in entertaining us I noticed a man staring in our direction. His interest in us didn't bother me at first. The boys had kippas on their heads and tzit tzit visible at their sides. It's safe to say that in suburban, catholic, Milwaukee Binyomin and Zevy tend to get a stare or two. I ignored him and kept pointing out the snakes to the boys who were deep in conversation about which one could eat them quicker than the other. We walked out of the reptile room and I followed the boys pulling on me and telling me to walk faster. I noticed the man again, close to us, with what I guessed were his wife and children. I caught his stare and he didn't look away.

Right away I began to feel an unsettled feeling in my stomach. The boys however would not be pulled away from the zebra cage. By the time I convinced them to move quicker, bribing them with ice cream, he was right next to us. If I were brave enough to look down I would have guessed the toes of his shoes were close to mine, as I instinctively backed away, the boys behind me, he didn't relent. He stepped forward. Before I could open my mouth he breathed his stale breath in my face and said "are you going to put those monkeys in one of these cages?"


"Mark." I heard his wife say beckoning him back to her. He didn't listen.
I couldn't think. I could only act. I grabbed the boy's hands and held them close, I knew without looking that they were looking up. They stood unmoving. I told him that if he knew what was smart he would walk away now and go rot in hell. To my horror he grinned. He began to tell me in a low sinister voice that there was only one place for a Jew. I tried not to cry, knowing that would make it worse. I told him to get out of my way. Not wanting to make a scene for the children to remember. He wouldn't let me walk around him. G-d was obviously more than just watching us, because as I opened my mouth to tell him just what I thought of him two guys in University of Chicago t-shirts, one wearing a kippa came to my side. Somehow they heard the whole thing. It's safe to say that man will never be allowed into the zoo again, until of course they have a cage available for him.


This has happened to me alone before, when someone so ignorant has approached me about being Jewish, something you wouldn't think would seem that different as compared to everything else that sets people apart these days. These are the days when men marry men and women have children together, when you can choose your sex, tattoo your entire body, our society makes nearly everything seem acceptable, but a Jewish child at the zoo? Unheard of.
When we got in the car I was scared to talk to Binyomin and Zevy. The two guys who helped us told them before they left that there was nothing they should be more proud of than being Jews. While their reassurance was nice I had a feeling that it wouldn't be enough for the boys. I was right. Binyomin asked why that man hates us. I paused, thinking of what to say that would make sense. I explained how people were scared of what they didn't know. That people are scared of a belief in a G-d that doesn't fit into their idea of what G-d should be like. I asked him if he had ever heard of the other times Jews had been pointed out and harassed for nothing more than being Jews. He said he had. His Bubbie was in the holocaust, he had heard the stories even though his mom thought it was to early. I paused again, thinking. Trying to find a way to articulate my thoughts. Zevy broke his silence that I mistook for sadness, he said looking out the window, in a stronger voice than any five-year-old should have, "Let them kill me, I love being a Jew. I will serve Hashem forever."


If a five year old can stand so strong by what he believes, what stands in the way of the rest of us? Convenience? How people see us? What's comfortable? The things we just cant seem to give up? A five year old makes it seem so simple, and it is, it's just not easy.