(JTA) — For many Jewish organizations, Martin Luther King Jr. Day is a time to talk about the current state of black-Jewish relations.
There’s a lot to talk about this year, from the controversy over ties between Women’s March organizer Tamika Mallory and Louis Farrakhan, to common cause over the rise of white supremacism, to an issue of Commentary magazine that took a pessimistic view of the relationship between African-Americans and Jews.
But for those members of the Jewish community who also identify as black, it’s more complicated than whether the “relationship” is good or bad, up or down.
JTA asked Jews of color to share their thoughts on Martin Luther King Jr. Day. Their responses range from reflections on their family histories to takes on the Women’s March controversy and race relations in the United States.
Rebecca Pierce is a filmmaker, writer and activist.
On this Martin Luther King Jr. Day, I’m struck by both the strength of the bond between Black and Jewish communities, and how painfully far we still have to go in reconciling the intersections between them. I grew up on stories of Jewish participation in the civil rights movement, including my father’s rabbi, Arnold Jacob Wolf, marching in Selma and hosting Martin Luther King as a speaker at his temple at a time when King was seen as an extremist and not the ubiquitous icon he is today.
These stories of risk-taking solidarity meant everything to me as a Black and Jewish kid who didn’t see any contradiction in being part of both communities. But as an adult, I’m finding that stories aren’t enough. The coalitional civil rights organizing of our current moment raises challenges we must learn to face together with grace and accountability rather than avoidance and the politics of disposability. We can’t dismiss every voice that challenges us, whether on issues of race or topics as fraught as Israel and Palestine. We can argue, we can push back, we can try to educate, but we must also be willing to learn and grow in the process.
As the voices of Jews of Color and issues of race in the Jewish community come to the fore, we are seeing a shocking backlash from some who want to avoid uncomfortable questions that risk pushing needed voices out of our communities. This Martin Luther King Jr. Day we can honor the legacy of a man who gave his life for freedom by showing up for one another, sitting with the discomfort of our shared challenges, and having faith in ourselves and each other to fight for what’s right, even when it isn’t easy.
Rabbi Shais Rishon, also known as MaNishtana, is an activist and author who has written about racism in the Orthodox community.
As Martin Luther King Jr. Day arrives yet again, and in a year that has seen so much toxic gate-keeping (usually surrounding dissenting Jewish voices of color), demands for sweeping condemnations from non-Jewish communities while simultaneously not holding the same level of censure for ill-behaving Jewish figures, and a general refusal to acknowledge instances where — despite “ally-ship” — American Jewry can be complicit in the very same ideologies many Jewish fled from, a particular quote can’t help but come to mind from Dr. King’s “Letter from A Birmingham Jail”:
First, I must confess that over the past few years I have been gravely disappointed with the white moderate. I have almost reached the regrettable conclusion that the Negro’s great stumbling block in his stride toward freedom is not the White Citizen’s Council-er or the Ku Klux Klanner, but the white moderate, who is more devoted to “order” than to justice; who prefers a negative peace which is the absence of tension to a positive peace which is the presence of justice; who constantly says: “I agree with you in the goal you seek, but I cannot agree with your methods of direct action”; who paternalistically believes he can set the timetable for another man’s freedom; who lives by a mythical concept of time and who constantly advises the Negro to wait for a “more convenient season.” Shallow understanding from people of good will is more frustrating than absolute misunderstanding from people of ill will. Lukewarm acceptance is much more bewildering than outright rejection.
Rabbi Isaiah Rothstein is the founder of Union Street Sanctuary, a Jewish social organization in Brooklyn, and the rabbi-in-residence at Hazon and Be’chol Lashon.
Martin Luther King Jr. Day and Tu b’Shvat help us tap into nuance the way many Jews of Color live with each day. I recall the moment Barack Obama became president like it was yesterday. My mother, a Black convert to Judaism, sat in front of the TV screen with tears of joy. Once named Tanya Maria Robertson, now Shulamit Geulah Rothstein, my mother was raised in Chicago during the civil rights era. Carol Robertson, one of the girls murdered in the Birmingham church bombing of 1963, was her cousin. My father, raised in a secular Jewish home in New York, became a religious Jew, a Lubavitcher, a Hasid of Rabbi Menachem Mendel Schneerson, the Chabad rebbe.
I grew up knowing my ancestors were slaves during the Passover seder, both in Egypt and in America. I have freedom songs and Chabad niggunim harmonized with the melodies of dual worlds of cacophonous beginnings that end in a symphony of love and celebration.
Martin Luther King Jr. Day has always been a holiday for me because although it took more than one person to bring my parents together, this day represents the story of American liberation during a period of oppression and deep hatred. Martin Luther King Jr. Day is a holiday for me because my American roots as a Jew of a color hold complex collisions of multiple worlds and perspectives. This holiday allows me to reflect, as Dr. King did, that “the arc of the moral universe is long, but it bends toward justice.” On Martin Luther King Jr. Day this year, I am holding an awareness that so many different Jewish communities are looking to uplift marginalized groups, uplift the downtrodden and promote acts of kindness and charity. I also know that celebrating this civil rights leader is one thing, and living the change he was boldly pursuing takes partnerships that aren’t solely dependent on one day a year. Martin Luther King Jr. Day teaches that authentic and raw relationships are important.