I wish I had written a note about Izzy Hagbah, by J.J. Gross, back when I had a copy near me. I had to ILL it, actually, because nobody nearby had a copy. And I very nearly bought a copy, only, in the end, I didn’t. Or, at least, not yet. And I’m pretty sure I won’t.
The thing is, there is so much to talk about with this book. Oh, the pictures are wonderful, and it’s a very sweet story. But…
The theme is tolerance, but specifically tolerance within the Tribe (broadly speaking). The story concerns a Hasidic shul and a Conservative guy—the titular Izzy—who went to services in the building when it was used by a Conservative congregation (since moved to the suburbs). The relationship is not an easy one; it is clear that they would be happier if he found some other worship community, and it is equally clear that he views them as strangers and interlopers. Eventually, a miracle occurs, and the Hasids come to respect Izzy and his faith.
There is a frame story, quite a nice one although not really necessary, but its inclusion complicates things, a bit. The story is told by an old man who was a boy in the Hasidic congregation during the Izzy years. The story is told to a group of children in a synagogue. The narrator appears to me to be Modern Orthodox: kippah but no payess, fringes on the outside, trimmed beard, modern but ‘modest’ clothes. Possible I’m mistaking it, but I think that’s the implication: he has left the Hasidim but is still Haredi. The synagogue he is in, however, seems to me to be pretty clearly a Conservative shul: the boys and girls are together, for one thing, and the kids are wearing modern clothing. I’d have to look closely at the pictures for more clues, but I certainly got the impression of a Conservative shul. The frame makes it clear, by the way, that the narrator is a guest with this congregation.
So. We have a story about interaction between Jewish groups, and a frame involving interaction between Jewish groups, but the frame doesn’t seem to back up the story—that is, while the frame is nice and all, it doesn’t involve a bridging, a relationship built. I was left with a sense that tolerance was a good thing, certainly, but that it might be better not to test it too much. Was I too skeptical? Could be.
My Best Reader noticed right away (of course) that there were no female characters in the book. Of course, the whole thing takes place on the floor of a Hasidic shul; it would be impossible to place women characters there. On the other hand, there are bits of it on the doorstep or the street outside, and one would think it is Mr. Gross’ choice where to place the story, so there’s that. But for me, what the lack of female characters represents is the kind of tolerance we see a lot of in the Jewish community, what has been called the Frummest Common Denominator. If a college group wants to hold a service (or a meal, for that matter) with participation across the Jewish spectrum, it’s a terrific moment for tolerance—and women don’t get to lead prayers.
I think Izzy Hagbah is rather a wonderful book, and that Mr. Gross has his heart in the right place. But the book is problematic, because the world is problematic, and while I enjoyed reading it to my kids once, I’m not sure I want to have it around the house.
Tolerabimus quod tolerare debemus,
-Vardibidian.