Rabbi Sklarz - MLK Sermon

Black/Jewish Relations After Oct 7 – Rabbi Andrew R. Sklarz, Temple Judea, February 16, 2024

My dear friends, so often I’m asked what led me to the rabbinate. The simple answer of course, is my love for humanity and a desire to partner with people as they travel on their earthly journeys. In other words, establishing a spiritual connection with others as they travel through the vicissitudes of life and wrestle with existenial questions. Indeed, at the heart of these relationships is exploring Torah, as we understand how Judaism has the ability not only to guide and inform us, but if we open ourselves to all that it has to offer, how it can stand at the very center of our lives and our relationships. While Jews are my people and Torah my vehicle, the desire to form deep bonds with those of different walks of life brings such color and depth to human existence. Judaism’s call to care for others is introduced early on in Torah and is punctuated in the Book of Exodus with the command to remember the stranger, for we know what it is to be a stranger having been strangers in the land of Egypt. This concept is of course underscored in the later biblical books as the prophetic call for social justice is at the very core of Reform Judaism.

No more has the call for social justice been underscored than during the Civil Rights era when Jewish leaders walked arm and arm with Rev. Martin Luther King and fought hard against the unjust laws placed upon people of color in our nation. Indeed, throughout the later part of the 20th century to the present, the Reform Movement has been on the vanguard for change when injustice of any sort has reared its ugly head.

As we have been schooled by our Reform tradition to advocate for those whose voices have been stilled, we have fought the good fight. Of course, at moments - an intersectionality has existed as there are members of the Jewish community who are people of color, members of the LGBTQ+ community, and lest we not forget, that more than half of the Jewish population is comprised of woman - a group that has long faced both abuse and discrimination in our nation. As Reform Jews, standing up to injustice towards any marginalized group feels as if it is embedded in our DNA, yet we have too often felt the sting of those have sought to marginalize us or worse. From Egypt through today, attempts to destroy our people include, but are far from limited to the Crusades, the Inquisition and the Holocaust. As we well know, from the day statehood was proclaimed, Israel has been seeking to protect itself from its neighbors who banded together chanting, “We will drive the Jews into the sea.” However, nothing prepared us for the world’s reaction world when Hamas attacked Israel on October 7.

To say we were devastated by the atrocity would be a gross understatement, for it is hard to put into words the emotions we have felt by the hateful anti-Semitic rhetoric and acts which have followed - especially by marginalized groups on whose behalf we have fought. Feelings of isolation, abandonment and fear have not only shattered us, but suddenly we, the Jewish people feel so alone in the wilderness.

With some groups with whom we had stood, this was a terrible shock. However, with others, this was a sad reminder of how relationships have deteriorated. Tragically, the once strong Black - Jewish alliance has frayed and feels to be at a distance from the days when our rabbis went to prison with MLK or when the Civil Rights and Voting Rights acts were both drafted in our Reform Movement’s Religious Action Center in Washington, DC.

A far cry from the Golden Age of the Black-Jewish partnership in the 1950s, 60s and 70s, by the 1980s Jesse Jackson’s remarks led to the vitriol of Leonard Jeffries, Louis Farrakhan and by the 1990s, tragic events in Brooklyn created a growing wedge. However, the harshest blow occurred in 2016 as the Black Lives Matters Platform accused Israel of being an apartheid nation committing genocide. As a response to these events, I have sought to deepen my relationship with the Black community and my fellowship with African American clergy. To this end, I have been in Black churches when crises have taken place and have sought to create meaningful events every year for MLK Shabbat with dynamic speakers.

Of course, with the pandemic, I could not invite church groups to the temple. Thus, over the past few years, I have called upon friends, Black ministers in different parts of the country to speak to the congregation on Zoom. However, this year, as we have eased up with COVID restrictions, I sought to find a local preacher to be with us in person in my congregation in that pristine town of Putnam Valley, NY.

The hamlet of Putnam Valley would be characterized as vanilla, but it is within proximity to the urban center of Peekskill – a city with a dramatically different sociological mix. To my horror, I learned that Peekskill, an old industrial city, was once a bastion of horrific racism. Decades ago, Peekskill gained notoriety on the national stage when Paul Robeson was invited to host a concert. The program organized for the Civil Rights Congress never came to pass as angry white mobs chanted hate and lynched Robeson in effigy.

However, today Peekskill has a substantial Back population, and thus, I reached out to the pastor of a large African American church, with the hope that she would be interested in cultivating a relationship with our temple and consider speaking from the bimah for our MLK Shabbat. My outreach to the pastor was essentially a cold call, for I had no idea how she or her parishioners felt about Jews, especially given the strong anti-Israel sentiments since October 7..However, taking a deep breath in, I made the call. To my delight, Rev. Valerie was so warm, kind and open as she expressed such empathy when I spoke of the heartache, the sense of isolation, abandonment and fear that Jews are feeling. In light of this wonderful conversation, I felt the security to extend the invitation for her to speak on the bimah for our MLK Shabbat along with her parishioners and the church choir.

In the weeks that ensued, Rev. Valerie and I began to develop a warm relationship, and the choir master and I also became fast friends. By the time we all met in our sanctuary for the MLK Shabbat, it felt as though it was a reunion of old friends. The evening was powerful and it became a love fest. We mingled at the Oneg Shabbat, and we spoke of future events we could share. As an aside, I am so delighted the church will be with us – actually, we will be at the church, for our congregational Passover seder, which as a temple family, we hold a week before Pesach falls.

And so, as I began to plan for Black History Month in February, I called upon Rev. Valerie, who now calls me “Bro” and I call “Sister” to partner with me on a program to deal with the complicated relationship between the Black and Jewish communities. The church group joined us at the temple for dinner, followed by an informal service in the social hall and then Pastor Valerie and I aired a video entitled - A Strained Relationship: The Complex History Between Black & Jewish Americans. Prior to showing it to our combined communities, Rev. Valerie and I agreed that there were a number of portions which were indeed “cringe worthy,” but we also felt it contained necessary content to be confronted if a true relationship between our congregations was to come to fruition. As the title expresses, the video showcases the highs and lows of our relationship in this nation. The discussion which followed was indeed powerful and meaningful.

My friends, all of us have been in terrible despair since Oct 7 not only with the horror perpetrated upon Israel, but with the ensuing Jew hatred world wide and the abandonment by those whom we had thought to be our friends. Indeed, these feelings are understandable, and the inclination has been to become self-focused, remaining insular amidst our own people. However, while we need to console and comfort one another, if we merely insulate ourselves there will be no possibility for any progress.

In that small corner of the world outside of New York City, between Putnam Valley and Peekskill, a tiny dent has been made – a relationship has begun and hope exists. I pray that a stone has been cast in the water and the possibility of ripples are before us that may turn into waves. But Putnam Valley and Peekskill are only a small corner of our nation… I look at all of you in another major northeastern corridor, as well as in various cities across the nation, and ask for our sacred community here to do the same. There are no promises, but there is potential, and if we do not make the effort, there is no possibility. You know your communities far better than I do, so I ask you to speak to me. Let’s work together.

We are all understandably bruised, angry, hurt and frightened, but as we fight the anti-Semitism, we must continue to fight the good fight with and for others. Let us continue to hold fast to the belief that if we extend a hand, there will be others willing to hold ours… Ken y’hi razon – May it be your will Oh God & let us say – Amen.

Rabbi Andrew R. Sklarz, DD, MSW, MA, February 2024