I wrote my first letter to the editor last week. Oh sure, on more than one occasion I planned on writing a letter, and there were a couple of times when I even sat down to write one, but last week was the first time I actually followed through and sent it in.

The Côte-St Luc borough council’s decision to remove Zahra Kazemi’s photo exhibit from its library was the agent of change that turned me from lollygagger to letter-sender-inner. Turns out the library where I spent my youth continues to be a place of learning for me — albeit with one key difference. Instead of serving as a repository of knowledge, this time the library is teaching me where my own breaking point is — sort of like my very own version of the film Network with me throwing open the daily paper and screaming that I’m mad as hell and I’m not going to take it anymore.

I should back up a bit. I’m Jewish, and while some might call me a self-hating Jew, I prefer to think that my reference points are the religion’s social justice and liberal touchstones. As such, the actions of the Côte-St Luc city council were profoundly disturbing to me. Where to begin? For an excellent discussion of all that was wrong with this decision check out babble. Suffice it to say that I was left incredulous.

Incredulous that in practice — if not in intent — the borough council is speaking for and defending a Jewish community it does not represent. But most of all, incredulous that the Jewish community — my community — with our twinned history of tolerance and being oppressed, would support these actions. Surely rather than stifle dialogue, we should be looking for opportunities to begin one?

While that may explain why I was — and continue to be — disturbed, it doesn’t really explain why I wrote the letter. There are lots of things that leave me shaking my head — building a Wall through the Occupied Territories comes to mind — but I’ve never written a letter about it before. I’m still not sure why I wrote the letter. In the end what the event signified — the coupling of the silencing of ideas as an action executed on behalf of Jews — led to a perfect storm of disbelief, dismay and decisiveness.

As a secular Jewish Montrealer, it felt as if we had crossed a line and I could not just shake my head this time. Some might argue that the Jewish people crossed that line a long time ago, and that this form of violence pales in comparison to events in the Middle East, and they may be right. Call me naïve, but it always seemed to me that even though questioning Israel’s policies was far from popular, that it was at least possible. By removing the photos, I was being told that criticism of Jews was no longer allowed. Worse still, what should have been clear to anybody who cared to lift their head up from the sand, was that the optics of the event were sure to create fodder for anti-Semitism (regardless of whether or not the library was hoodwinked as the council now claims; their actions speak for themselves).

So here we are: art — not to mention criticism — are no longer tolerated. Check your sensibilities and your moral compass at the door Mr. Lubelsky; thou shalt not forget that you are Jewish. Well, I don’t want to forget that I’m Jewish, in fact, I’m glad to be reminded of it. The political opportunism that leads to Judaism and Zionism being inter-twinned in speech writing had almost made me forget what being Jewish means. The Judaism I practice celebrates diversity, tolerance and ideas — especially ideas I don’t agree with. It is the Judaism I plan on continuing to practice and I, my Jewish upbringing, my Jewish family and my Jewish friends are at the root of that practice. Judaism has shaped me as an activist and as a person and it feels good to be reminded of that.

We all have our Network points and I would like to thank the Côte-St Luc public library for showing me where mine is. I’m a better person, and a better Jew for it.