We live in a vital community, but we’re not flawless. Many of our flaws have gone unspoken of and in the process have hurt many people.

Through my years as a Jewish community professional, I have talked with dozens of homegrown Jews and immigrants from places such as Winnipeg; Morocco; Brantford, Ont.; Israel and Halifax, who have expressed a painful truth of feeling disenfranchised living in the Toronto Jewish community because of a system that can be very judgmental with some unreasonable expectations.

Lorne Opler, 48, is one of those people. He was born in Toronto to a family with blue-collar roots, a fate that can be most difficult in our city.

“As a child I was conditioned to undervalue my father’s work because he was part of the retail class, not of the professional class,” Lorne said. “Because of the Jewish community’s culture, which puts value on white collar professionals, only as an adult have I come to appreciate my father’s working-class background.”

He added that his quiet disappointment came from his years in Jewish day schools, where students were generally not encouraged to become musicians if they were passionate about music or carpenters if they loved creating with wood.

“Every kid is unique and should be seen as such,” Lorne said. “How many people are there in our community wishing they were painting a canvas rather than analyzing a year-end statement?”

Lorne makes a sound argument that still applies today. Indeed, how many people reading this article wanted to become an author but felt there was something lacking in them if they pursued their dream? How many of our members chose their profession because of community and/or family pressure and have the same expectations of their children?

This need to see ourselves as high profile in the area of career choice likely started a century ago, when Jews were marginalized by their host countries and we needed to be seen to be safe.

Today, when we meet someone new at shul or an event, the first question we ask is, “So what do you do?” What we want to hear is, “I am a successful and affluent professional or entrepreneur.” The auto mechanics just don’t cut it in our community, regardless of their contribution, and if they did, you would see more of them being honoured at our galas.

And the truth is, calling a plumber up to the dais for years of precious community work doesn’t raise money. And in our community, money is status. I know this stuff; I run an organization and in many ways am part of this system.

 Unfortunately, this approach, according to Lorne, has created a community “A” and “B” list. The “A” list is made up of those who have worked hard for personal wealth, or inherited it, volunteer for larger institutions, and fit well into middle-of-the-road Judaism that speaks on behalf of the Jewish people. Those on the “B” list practise their community membership quietly, often on the sidelines, and seldom are asked for their opinion about things integral to the Jewish world and our town. Both are good folk, but only one feels part of the big picture.

As a community, we need to see our flaws and consider how painful it must be to feel marginalized and without a voice. It’s important that we are authentically introspective so we can create an even more vibrant environment for every Jew, and a community that celebrates its Torah scholars, doctors, artists, lawyers, teachers and businesspeople.  

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