[dropcap]It’s[/dropcap] just interesting, our hyper vigilant era of at times contrived, politically correct extremism. People pounce on others for every undotted i and uncrossed t, crucifying and cancelling people sometimes without reason, alongside coerced groveling with scripted apologies that include all the familiar “right” code words and trigger words. With all these apologies, often for reasonable statements, somehow a few seconds of gratuitous anti-Semitism on TV is still deemed OK.

I can laugh at myself and my community’s quirks. I can take feedback and constructive criticism. And some situations indeed demand great reckoning. But in these hyper reactive times, it is perplexing to see a cheap shot taken at the Jewish community, specifically the chasidic community, with no reaction whatsoever.

I admit I don’t really know American TV. But I do know a ridiculous portrayal of Jews when I see one. Curiously, the writer of the episode supposedly is himself Jewish.

Granted, I have not watched NBC’s series “Nurses.” I only saw the quick clip circulating, depicting a conversation between a chasidic family’s exchange at a hospital bed with the doctor.

The scene is so offensive, yet also so ridiculous and dripping fake, it can almost pass for a parody. Even the regalia of the peyos, the sidelocks, look about as authentic as though taken straight off the shelf of a dollar store’s Halloween department. A side point, though, to be sure.

It’s just over the top. The patient’s name just so happens to be Israel. He rejects the doctor’s proposal of a leg transplant because the leg would come from a ‘goy.’ “It could be it’s from an Arab . . .”

[dropcap]This[/dropcap] scene is simply hideous. It feeds straight into anti-Semitic tropes and stereotypes.

But more important, on a substantive level, it’s wholly inaccurate and unfaithful to what the Jewish religion’s position would be if this situation presented itself in real-life. The most flexible area of Jewish law pertains to anything linked with the sanctity of human life. Human life is privileged over all, even above the holy Sabbath, even above the holy of holies, Yom Kippur. The sanctity of life is one of the bedrock values of the Jewish faith. Almost nothing in Judaism trumps it. Sabbath observant Hatzala volunteers who normally refrain from the use of technology on the Sabbath regularly take emergency calls on the Sabbath, saving lives of anyone who is in distress, be they Jewish or gentile. And many Hatzala volunteers are chasidic. What this brief scene, in this TV show “Nurses” depicted, is just totally untrue.

If the show wanted to illuminate more of what this seemingly mysterious community is like and also critique legitimate prejudices that might exist within it, that would be fair. It is fair and interesting to examine any lesser known subject, culture or faith, as long as it is professionally executed, thoughtfully, substantively, with nuance and context. With that, I would have no issue.

If the show would address the complexity in halachic Judaism of organ donation, that would have had merit and potentially stimulate interesting discussion.

Instead, this “Nurses” clip was just another crude clip of another primitive Jew who feels his blood is redder and would rather risk dying than receiving a donated organ from a gentile. Aside from wrong, how distasteful! This debacle is not only about optics. It is also noteworthy because of its contrast to the at times savage, politically correct overreactions to comments that can reasonably be understood to be benign — but this? A scene such as this, integrated into a mainstream TV drama, seems to be acceptable.

[dropcap]This[/dropcap] is not directly related, but there is also irony here. While the chasidic community does indeed choose to live a sheltered life, siloed from society, the one place that this breaks apart is actually in the hospital. Once upon a time I was quite involved in Bikkur Cholim, hospital visits to the ill, in New York City. Needless to say, among the many different patients I met, ranging from non-Jewish secular to Hindu to Sikh to Muslim to Jewish secular and Jewish observant, were also chasidim.

If anything, the hospital is the great equalizer. It’s a place of human to human pain, where stereotypes often break down. The pain of common anxiety and grief becomes bonding. Stereotypes melt away, and the intimacy of fraught, shared experiences become a glue between unlikely groups of people. It’s a place where a Sikh doesn’t see a chasid and a chasid doesn’t see an Arab and an Arab doesn’t see a Jew. It’s a place where people are seen for what, after all, we are: people. Vulnerable people.

I don’t mean a generic, John Lennon type of everyone-is-just-the-same type of place. Quite the contrary. At the hospital, everyone is fully who they are, be it culturally or religiously, yet the connection of this shared humanity respects and even transcends these differences, often morphing into the most unexpected of friendships.

Chasidic patients integrate and meld into the fabric of the hospital community, just like any other patient. Even more so, here in New York City, the chasidic community is visible in the hospital scene. Chasidim are quite present as volunteers, I would say volunteers extraordinaire, for whom there is an abiding affection. They visit complete strangers and supply specialized (bikkur cholim) rooms with nurturing, warm, home cooked meals, Sabbath food and baked treats, at a time when such support can feel comforting and be very helpful.

To take a difficult medical moment of crisis in an ill patient’s life and turn it into a cheap anti-Semitic shot just seems like a new low to me. In these times when people are tripping over themselves for every little slight, I wonder why such an overt one as this is somehow cushioned with major network approval.

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