Memory and Black Lives Matter: Questions for Parshat Behaalotecha

In this week’s Torah portion, BeHaalotecha, we find the following: 

4. And the mixed multitude that was among them had a strong craving; and the people of Israel also wept again, and said, Who shall give us meat to eat?

5. We remember the fish, which we ate in Egypt for nothing; the cucumbers, and the melons, and the leeks, and the onions, and the garlic;

6. But now our soul is dried away; there is nothing at all, beside this manna, before our eyes. (Numbers 11:4-6)

It’s amazing to me how the Children of Israel could have such a selective memory….. Just a few months prior to this utterance, they were slaves.  And yet, the memory of the horrors of their enslavement had begun to fade away and all that they could remember about Egyptian bondage is the fact that their bellies were full….

I think of this as we enter into a new week because now is a time that we, as a nation, are seeing history playing out in front of our eyes. We have witnessed an uprising – people taking to the streets in protest. For those who have marched, and those who have watched - transfixed as hundreds of thousands of people – of every race, religion, gender, and ethnic group – have demanded justice – not merely for the martyr, George Floyd, but for our entire nation, we realize that THIS is a time of revolutionary change; of cheshbon Hanefesh – soul searching and radical rethinking…the culture of separateness and division that has resulted in deep divides, cultural inequality and violent repression is being called out and condemned. “Black Lives Matter” is more than a slogan, it is a call to conscience and consciousness. Or is it?

We have been here before….

In the 1960’s we saw marches in Selma, in Montgomery, in Chicago, New York and Los Angeles. As a young child, I have vivid recollections of sitting on my father’s shoulders as we marched in protest – against the war, against segregation, against corruption….. and things changed, somewhat, but not enough. And so, once again - the same cries for equality; the same brutality against people of color; the same inequities and imbalances against which people marched are once again paraded on the streets of our cities.

Memory is selective – it is also fickle.

As one crisis wanes, another takes its place.  Two weeks ago, I would not have predicted that a virus that stopped the world in its tracks could be removed from the forefront of our consciousness and replaced by a popular uprising of historic proportions. What will next week bring, or the week after that? 

In our text, our ancient ancestors had recently witnessed and participated in an Exodus from slavery that would become the archetype for every liberation movement throughout history. And yet, just a short time later, all they could remember about their time in Egypt was the food that they ate when they were slaves.

And so, the questions that I pose for this week revolve around the lessons that we are learning as we are living in history. How will we be changed as we move ahead? How will we understand our responsibility, not only to witness change, but to BE the change that our society so desperately needs?

1. Change is neither easy nor comfortable. The images of protests we see in our streets can make us anxious and afraid. The violence that has erupted alongside peaceful protest – no matter the source - is disturbing and unnerving. Have we allowed ourselves to focus on the violence and ignore the message of the protests themselves?
2. The phrase, “Black Lives Matter” has become a rallying cry. There are those who hear this phrase and reply: “All lives matter! Why only Black lives?” Other voices in the Jewish community focus on unfortunate and yes, anti-Zionist and anti-Semitic phrases that have been linked to a small group of leaders of the Black Lives Matter movement. It is important to understand that these ideas are neither central to nor definitive of the protests we are witnessing. Again – will we allow these concerns to deflect us from understanding and internalizing the reality of oppression that people of color experience on a daily basis?   
3. Most Jews in America are white. We have benefitted from White Privilege and give thanks for opportunities that we have been afforded simply because of the color of our skin. Yes, as Jews we have been victims. And yes, we know that many of the same people who hate people of color also hate us. We have witnessed a dramatic rise in anti-Semitic events over the past few years. And yet, we have the ability to blend in – to hide our Jewishness, should we choose to do so. Our shared vulnerability and history of oppression can and, at times has been a bond that has brought our communities together. Are we willing to work to rebuild ties that bind us to our Black brothers and sisters?
4. And while most Jews are white, there are men, women and children of color in our congregation and in Klal Yisrael – the Jewish people – who feel invisible, abandoned and neglected by the faith and community that they love. Over the past few weeks, several members of Temple Emanuel have reached out to me in pain and shared that they feel out of place – that our kehilla kedoshah-our sacred community is not a place of comfort or love to them. How can we reach out, not only to welcome them, but to hear their pain, their stories and the tension of their lives?
5. And finally, one of the key lessons that I have learned is that I have a great deal that I need to learn. I am committed to understanding not only the roots of racism in America, but also the seeds of segregation that have been planted within me. Like our flawed and wounded ancestors in this week’s torah portion who longed for and were corrupted by the comforts of 440 years of slavery in Egypt, we, too, have allowed ourselves to be lulled by the false promise of the past. It is not enough to be an ally or an advocate to our black brothers and sisters. We must also dig deep into our own behaviors, experiences and prejudices and acknowledge the role that we have played in maintaining a system that is flawed. Are we willing to do the work? Are we willing to take the risk? Are we willing to make mistakes and learn from them?

My friends, these are not easy questions. If I have made any of you uncomfortable by asking them, that’s OK. It is only by confronting our fears, assumptions and discomfort that we can begin to make change. Let us not allow ourselves to revert to the way things were – that ship has sailed. Longing for the creature comforts of what was in the past will only lead us to futile wandering in the wilderness.