HOWARD FELDMAN
This past week, on the way home, I walked past groups of men who had clearly been to minyanim. If I was tempted to say anything to them, I was stopped in my tracks by one of my sons, who reminded me that I’m not a COVID-19 “street prefect”. For that reason, I didn’t point out that they, and some runners we had walked past, weren’t wearing masks either.
For clarity sake, not wearing a mask is illegal, having a minyan with less than 50 people, where rules are adhered to, isn’t. But that doesn’t make it smart either.
The lead article in the SA Jewish Report (12 June 2020), “Defiant private minyanim happening despite high risk”, was criticised on social media. The allegation was that media (including Jewish media) are quick to point out the behaviour of Orthodox Jews, while the non-observant seem to receive a free pass.
Shops, they claim, are full, people are breaking lockdown rules by having play dates and get-togethers, but the focus has been on places of prayer. A similar allegation was made in relation to the Israeli press where those living in Tel Aviv weren’t singled out for going to the beach, while those in religious communities were vilified.
In New York, similar accusations were made. It’s even more noticeable when tens of thousands of people have been allowed to participate in marches across the city, but playgrounds in religious neighbourhoods have remained closed.
There is a perception among some within the religious community that they are being targeted. There is a sense that whereas most people break the rules in one way or another, when it comes to the religious community, there seems to be a vehement intolerance.
If the concern is accurate and there is indeed more of a focus on “frum” Jews, is this because of a bias, because religious Jews are easily identifiable, or because there is the expectation that they should know better?
While there might be an element of truth to it, the danger is that it allows the conversation to shift towards a “hostile press” and away from the very real dangers of gathering for a minyan or anything else. In the same way that difficult questions are being asked of the media, the issue of compliance and resistance to regulations in some sections of this community should also be examined. And those who are involved in the so called “secret minyanim” need to take an honest look at themselves.
Over the past week, the number of infections has increase significantly in our community. Hatzolah has issued a warning pleading with people to stay home, and it remains to be seen how long schools will be able to stay open. The pandemic has already had an impact on the Muslim community following Eid celebrations, which illustrates the danger of gathering in groups.
All shuls have remained closed, and the chief rabbi, although keen to find a way for them to open, has decided that now isn’t the time to do so.
Lessons learned around the world have taught that religious get-togethers are dangerous, and have resulted in the spread of the virus in communities that defied the rules.
Not everyone agrees. My father, who is 83 and has comorbidities, is one of them. He is of the view that we need to have more faith in G-d, and that we are pretty much a weak and neurotic generation.
On Tuesday, when chatting on the phone, he lamented the fact that shuls aren’t open. His new concern is that people are being trained not to go to minyanim anymore. “What’s more,” he said, now fired up by the subject, “Do you know how long it’s going to take to get people back to shul?”
“Yes,” I agreed wholeheartedly, “Especially the dead ones! They will take the longest.”
We have agreed to disagree on this.
We have also hidden his car keys.
