Maybe if we put on a better show they wouldn't hate us so much.

      Lots of feedback to Monday's column about the Chicago Quantum Exchange at the University of Chicago, interviewing its director, David Awschalom. Somehow, this email stood out, from a medical doctor:

     Mr. Steinberg,
     If Dr. Awschalom is of our faith, it would have been an appropriate mention given the context of your article.
     All efforts to remind others of our worth, our contribution to society would be a benefit in this era of overt prejudice and anti-semitism.
     My thoughts are a sad commentary of our times.
     Sincerely,
     Lewis C., MD

    While Dr. C.'s remark appeared in my spam folder — he must have said something annoying in the past, though I can't recall what — it touched on a pet peeve of mine, and I thought it deserved a response:  

   Dear Dr. C:
    I disagree wholeheartedly. I don't have many personal rules of conduct, but one ironclad stricture is: don't write for people who hate you. The Jews constitute 0.2 percent of the world population, yet make huge contributions to most realms of culture and science, far outstripping our numbers. Either someone knows that already or they never will.  
    You are giving antisemites too much credit. There is an assumption in your suggestion that is common, and I would argue against: that people who are prejudiced reach that point by weighing reality, assessing the facts before them before coming to their conclusions. Just the opposite: they blinder themselves with their bigotry, and cherry pick what facts support them, when they're not fabricating calumnies out of whole cloth. 
   I see this attitude sometimes if I write about something that departs from the traditional practices of our faith —eat a pork chop, for instance. I'll hear from Jews frantic to put on a good show for the goyim. I guess we need to be all exemplars of our religion. Guess what? We don't.   
     Given the sort of people who go about unashamed, I don't see why I, or you, or Dr. Awschalom, can't do the same. I didn't mention his faith because it wasn't germane — he's not refugee, yet. Though the way our country is going, I could see that happening — no matter how many Jews are making the world a better place — so perhaps I'll have reason yet to mention his religion, prior to his fleeing to the relative safety and tolerance of a nation such as Germany.
     Thanks for writing.
     Neil Steinberg 

     I assumed it would end there — discussion doesn't seem high on anyone's list anymore. But Dr. C. did reply, in a thoughtful way that deserves sharing.

     I appreciate the eloquence and contents of your comments. However, there is a reversal, a stirring exhibited within the American Jewish communities.
Whereas until recently, we hid our Jewishness on campuses or walking down Michigan Avenue so as not to be the recipient of the wrath from irrational bigots, we now have struck a tone of “ here we are and we’re proud of who we are”.
     I do agree there was no natural transition to add the religion of Dr. Awschalom in a seemless way into your column.
     The newsroom guys, the medical colleagues, the factory workers, the small shop owners, the Amazon Prime drivers, the waitresses, the police, the construction workers, the housewives — it is directed toward them, a silent majority, that the Dr. Awschaloms of the world are the shining light, the vibrancy of our religious culture and invent the insanely brilliant stuff that benefits humanity.
     Thank you for reading this.

     It broke my heart, a little, to read that, the old-style notion of blue collar America nodding in admiration of the Jewish molecular physicist changing the world. Maybe they do — I can't speak for them. But looking at the politics of the moment, it's hard to imagine. 

     In my view, the religion would be buoyed, not by more public scientists, but by emphasizing the Jewish truck drivers, waitresses, police, construction workers, etc. — salt-of-the-earth sorts automatically admired in a way researchers are not. It dislodged an old memory. The Chicago Police Department has a Jewish chaplain, Moshe Wolfe. Intrigued by the idea of Jewish Chicago cops, I got him on the phone, and asked him to be the focal point on a story. He flatly refused — not so much because he's Jewish, I believe, but because he's a cop. The code of silence, remember, isn't just about bad apples. It's about everything. A Chicago Police Officer wouldn't want to be subject of a story about rescuing a kitten from a tree — anyone who stands up is hammered down. Not courage in the way I understand it. The whole thing struck me as very sad.