Last year, on Oct 8, the Jewish community felt alone. Jews across this country felt isolated, misunderstood, and abandoned by some of our historic allies.
I made the mistake of going on social media that day and the first thing I saw was a post by an imam, a friend and colleague, whom I had worked with for years on interfaith dialogue and social justice issues. We’d lobbied in Harrisburg together to advocate for public education funding, gun violence prevention, and voting rights. Meanwhile, his post on October 8 showed no concern for those killed on October 7 and his post justified Hamas’ actions as legitimate resistance. A pogrom is not resistance. Rape is not resistance.
I had hoped on October 8 that I would hear from some of our interfaith allies. The imam didn’t call me to check in. Did I have any family in Israel? Were they okay? In pain, I felt invisible to him.
I was angry; still reeling from what I had seen and heard on the news and from friends and family in Israel. I sent the imam a text message that was pretty harsh. I didn’t mince words. I asked him if he thought 9/11 was legitimate resistance too. How would he feel if his family was under attack. I probably should have slept on it before sending (good advice to all of us). And then we didn’t talk for a bit.
In true, clergy joke irony, it took a pastor to bring us back together. The pastor invited us to join him at a faith leaders conference sponsored by the US Department of Justice. So, two months later, a pastor, an imam, and a rabbi walked into the National Constitution Center to learn about the dangers of white supremacy and homegrown-terrorism. We learned about the shared threats to our houses of worship and the role that we can play in protecting each other. We learned how to spot and report hate crimes. And we learned that standing up for each other’s safety is a powerful tool in combating extremism and hate.
After the briefing we had lunch together, we talked, and we listened. We accepted that we are not going to agree about the politics of the Middle East, but we understood each other’s pain a little better.
I felt validated and seen when the imam recognized that a recent protest in Center City was indeed anti-Semitic. And it went a long way for him to understand that I, and much of my community, do not blindly support the policies of the current Israeli government. In our fear, we had assumed the worst of each other.
Most importantly, in that moment, we realized that while we have little effect on the politics of the Middle East, we can have a profound effect on our own communities here in Philadelphia.
That one lunch did not solve all our problems, and some of our multi-faith relationships are still strained. But at the National Constitution Center, the three of us agreed that we would not let mistrust and fear divide our multi-faith, multi-racial, diverse coalition.
We’ve spent years building bridges. And today, in this season, we need those bridges more than ever.
Rabbi Nachman of Breslov taught:
כל העולם כולו גשר צר מאוד והעיקר לא לפחד כלל
The whole world is a very narrow bridge and the most important part is not to be afraid.
The bridge really does feel pretty narrow right now! The isolation and abandonment many Jewish Americans understandably feel makes us want to put up walls and give up on bridge-building. But Nachman is saying: don’t let that fear cloud your judgment, don’t let that fear consume you, don’t act on that fear. Nachman’s metaphor feels so tangible; it’s like we have to walk this tightrope – and when we look to the left or the right, all we see is danger, a chasm so deep, it feels insurmountable. But that narrow bridge is all we have. And we need those bridges – for our own protection and for the good of our country. Our Jewish safety is inextricably linked to the safety of other communities and to the future of our inclusive democracy.
I recently had the chance to learn from activist Eric Ward, a true ally to the Jewish community and a nationally-recognized expert on authoritarian movements, hate-fueled violence, and preserving inclusive democracy. As a Black man, Ward has been on a mission to help Americans understand the interconnectedness of hate. He sees antisemitism at the core of dangerous authoritarian thinking such as white nationalism, the belief that the United States should be an all white nation, free of people of color and Jews.
Ward writes: “Antisemitsm is so central to white nationalism that I became convinced that people of color and other marginalized groups will never win our freedom if we’re not also active in the struggle to uproot this form of anti Jewish hate. Jews are cast in the same role that they’ve always filled for anti-Semites as the absolute other.”
Ward explains that for white nationalists, it is the fantasy of invisible Jewish power that explains how Black Americans, supposed racial inferiors, could orchestrate the end of Jim Crow. For white nationalists, it is the fantasy of invisible Jewish power that explains how feminists and the LGBTQ community could upend traditional gender roles.
When the Tree of Life Shooter said Jews were committing a genocide against white people, he was using language that was intimately familiar to his fellow white nationalists. Antisemitism is at the core of white nationalist thinking. And Jews are not the only victims.
Black shoppers in a Buffalo supermarket were killed by a mass shooter who believed that he was in a war with Jews. The worshippers killed in a Black church in South Carolina, Latino shoppers murdered in a Walmart, in El Paso. For white supremacists, there is no difference, Jewish, Black, Latino, Gay – we are all an affront to their vision of America. We are all connected.
כל העולם כולו גשר צר מאוד והעיקר לא לפחד כלל
It’s not easy to walk that bridge right now, but we must not be afraid – we need to keep building bridges. As we become more divided as a nation, our bridges are the one thing that continues to keep us connected. The bridge is being stretched like never before. And white nationalists, extremists, and authoritarians are all feeding off this polarization to reshape our nation.
In a recent webinar with rabbis from across the country, Justin Florence, director of Protect Democracy, taught us how democracy has been eroding across the globe since 2007, including in America where we have seen a frightening surge of authoritarianism in recent years.
The authoritarian playbook is fairly similar across regimes and Protect Democracy defines some common characteristics that might sound familiar:
- Spreading Disinformation: Autocracies create confusion about what’s true and what’s not and use disinformation and propaganda to divide us and further their political goals.
- Quashing Dissent: Though cracking down on legitimate protests or limiting the media.
- Stoking Violence: They rile up private militias and use that violence to intimidate the opposition.
- Scapegoating Vulnerable Communities: Ones like ours in order to build their own political power and pit minorities communities against one another.
- Corrupting Elections: They hold elections that are not free and fair; disenfranchising voters and creating unnecessary roadblocks to voting.
This is not hypothetical – we are seeing this very rise in authoritarianism in America at the expense of our democratic ideals.
And to answer the age-old question – is it good for the Jews? No. No, it is not. And it is not good for our country, our democracy, and the majority of Americans. The best defense against authoritarianism is to build bridges across lines of difference to combat the hate that affects us all.
Jews make up just 2.5% of the population in America; we are too small to go it alone. And sadly we are often pitted against other minorities. White supremacists want us to fight. They are using antisemitism as a wedge to break up historic multi-racial, multi-faith coalitions.
Take DEI (Diversity, Equity and Inclusion), for example. Some would have us believe that DEI departments have contributed to antisemitism on campus. While it is clear there are gaps in knowledge of some DEI departments in the area of antisemitism, rather than fight DEI, let’s ensure that DEI offices are well trained in antisemitism. Rodeph Shalom was honored to host Dr. Valerie Harrison, Vice President for DEI at Temple University for our congregational Passover seder this past year. It was an opportunity for her to learn about our historic oppression and antisemitism today.
We’ve spent years building bridges. And we need to keep building them. But it doesn’t mean it is always going to be easy. It will be uncomfortable. It has been uncomfortable.
This doesn’t mean we tolerate antisemitism, but maybe it’s ok to stay in a setting even when we are uncomfortable. Because the good outweighs the bad. Because building bridges means we can educate others as well. We need to continue helping other people understand antisemitism and why the fight against antisemitism is inherent to their own safety and to our democracy
If we can overcome our fears and stay on that bridge, we educate others.
Representative Alexandria Ocasio Cortez (known as AOC) was recently in dialogue with Amy Spitalnick, CEO of the JCPA, the Jewish Council for Public Affairs, to better understand antisemitism. While the two do not agree on all issues (especially in regards to Israel), for Spitalnick, engaging new partners in the fight against antisemitism, white supremacy, and extremism comes first. After deep listening, AOC said, “Antisemitism, hate, and violence against Jews because of their identity is real and it is dangerous. When the Jewish community is threatened, the progressive movement is undermined.”
And then what happened a day after this conversation between Spitalnick and AOC? The Representative publicly called out an anti-Semitic incident in her district. The bridges work – our communities are stronger when we are in dialogue and partnership.
We have a unique opportunity in just over a week to hear from Amy Spitalnick, when she joins us in a conversation about civic participation in polarizing times as part of our Broad Perspectives Speaker Series.
Then join us a week later, on Tuesday, October 29th for our ‘Get Out The Vote’ phone banking. RAC-PA, the Pennsylvania branch of the Religious Action Center, is phonebanking every week through Election Day with our partners; doing wide scale voter education and voter turnout, especially in underserved Black and Latino communities across Pennsylvania. We are calling voters with nonpartisan encouragement to vote.
Lastly, on your way out of the sanctuary today, you will see fellow congregants handing out postcards in the lobby. Take a pack of five postcards with five addresses for you to handwrite. Studies have shown that a handwritten postcard is much more likely to get the attention of a potential voter than a form letter or phone call. Write a compelling nonpartisan message reminding fellow Pennsylvanians about the importance of voting. (Thank you to our Berkman Mercaz Limud students for your help with the postcards.)
כל העולם כולו גשר צר מאוד והעיקר לא לפחד כלל
The whole world is a very narrow bridge and the most important part is not to be afraid.
It is so easy to let fear take control of us, because it is a scary bridge these days. But we must resist this instinct to stay on our side and not walk the path together. Our safety is bound up with the safety of other minorities in this country and our path forward is one deeply rooted in relationships and solidarity.
I think of that famous picture of the Rev Dr. Martin Luther King Jr walking hand and hand with Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel and many others across the Edmund Pettus Bridge in Selma, Alabama almost 60 years ago, marching for voting rights.
We’ve spent years building bridges. It is time to reinvest in those bridges, to work together against extremism and hate, and to build a just, democratic future for our country.
Ken Y’hi Ratzon/May This Be God’s Will.
Amen.
