Observance Is Reason to Break

In 1968, rioting students besieged Columbia University. Vietnam War protesters and substantial violent, disruptive upheaval rocked the Morningside Heights campus. To bring about a return to routine academic life, the Administration sat down with the students to reconcile the rifts that had arisen between the two.

Among other demands the University met, Columbia agreed to give off the Monday and Tuesday of Election Day each November so that students might return to their home districts and actively participate in the electoral process, be it with a picket line or a presence at the polls.

In 2000, Jewish students quietly disengaged from the daily tribulations of academic life that they might observe Yom Kippur, the Jewish Day of Atonement, yesterday. Likewise, students broke with routine for Rosh Hashanah, the Jewish New Year, which falls 10 days before Yom Kippur.

The University closes for two days on Election Day and the preceding Monday, but for neither Yom Kippur nor Rosh Hashanah, the two most holy days in the Jewish calendar. This might not be so important a consideration if Columbia were not so heavily populated by Jewish students, or if electioneering were a serious concern that students pursued vigorously.

The Princeton Review and Student Advantage reported in their 1997 edition of The Hillel Guide to Jewish Life on Campus that of 19,000 students at the University, 6,000 were Jewish--3,000 of which were undergraduates at either Barnard or Columbia. Admittedly, 3,000 is a conspicuously round number, but even if it lands in the right ballpark, Columbia's 1996 undergraduate population was approximately 33 percent Jewish. The 2000 statistic cannot be too far from the 1996 one. According to an administrator in the Public Affairs Department, the University does not gauge its religious constituencies.

Additionally, it is quite possible that there are more active Jews on campus than there are active participants in the electoral process: more worshippers than students who immerse themselves into the election any further than a walk to the polls. Leaving home to attend school in New York City carries with it the tacit acknowledgement that students will not be able to picket outside of the polls or attend a rally with the candidates. Absentee ballots are not difficult to acquire; any and all information and media about a candidate's platforms is accessible via the Internet and Columbia's subscription to Lexis-Nexis. Why go home?

Such a utilitarian approach as one that concerns the number of Jews versus the number of civic-minded students constitutes a slippery slope, but the tradition of returning home to vote is outdated, unnecessary, and generally irrelevant to today's undergraduate community. Those facts will remain a significant force in the plea to trade, if necessary, the Election Day vacation for a break on Jewish holidays.

In all fairness, not every Jew religiously observes the High Holy Days, but even if one in three Columbia Jews practices even enough to attend synagogue on Yom Kippur--likely a low approximation--the University permits considerable academic detriment to 10 percent of its undergraduate students.

Jewish students who observe Yom Kippur must fast (some refrain even from drinking water), attend services, and honor the dead. It is not a day to be taken lightly, and the religious must remain serious and pensive of their sins. The Holy Day lasts from sundown to sundown, potentially dealing a double blow to students who have night classes on Kol Nidre (the eve of Yom Kippur).

Judaism is a minority contingent on campus, but it plays host to a heavy-handed plurality of students. Arguably, there are no religious holidays that Columbia students celebrate for which they do not already have off from school. Exchanging days given for patriotism with days given for religious observance of a minority body might evoke fears that the University caters to special interests, but the numbers show otherwise. If even the low estimate of one in ten Jews takes off of school for the holiday, ten percent of the undergraduate populace is deprived of lecture notes, thought-provoking discussion, and all of the other academic amenities this institution provides.

Dishonest students looking for an excuse to sleep in compound the reflexive blow that Columbia deals itself, as do observant professors who must cancel--and inconveniently reschedule--class on the High Holy Days. Columbia Jews today are victims to the seemingly arbitrary whim of a restless undergraduate demographic 30 years removed from Morningside Heights.