Dad, how come all dark-skinned people live in neighborhoods like this one?

My son, Dakota, innocently posed this question to me a few months ago.  Cody had a friend over after school.  As the time came for his friend to leave,  Cody and jumped in the car to take his friend home.  His neighborhood was not even a mile or so away, so it would be a short trip.  Distance wise, it is a short trip.  Just within the few blocks between our homes, the neighborhoods changed dramatically.  We left our idyllic, well-manicured confines of Stapleton to enter into the older, more desolate looking and feeling neighborhood of northeast Aurora.  Cody clearly noticed this stark difference between his friend’s neighborhood and his own.  And yes, Cody’s friend is African American.

As we drove away, Cody posed his question: Dad, how come all dark-skinned people live in neighborhoods like this one?

There was a lot to answer for in that short drive home.  I did my best to address the complexity of the question.  I tried to speak to the societal inequalities and injustices his question revealed.  I hoped to express the sympathy that was in my heart and the willingness I felt in that moment to make change.  (I am sure he stopped listening long before I was done speaking!)  And then we arrived at home, and soccer practice or homework or dinner called our attention and focus.  The reality Cody addressed had not changed and nor – do I believe – did my sincere thoughts and feelings about it.  But, I was back in my own community and facing its needs, demands and challenges.  There is only so much that I can do, so much that is my responsibility …

Even as I say those words, I do not fully believe them.

There is something happening in our country that is eating away at our societal core.  Even though our plates are full … even though it seems that the roots and impact of what is happening feel well beyond our realms of responsibility … Well, we, too, were strangers in the land of Egypt.  There are communities of people, who live houses, blocks, neighborhoods away from us, who do not have the same chance to live in the same kind of house, get the same kind of education, receive the same treatment by the law as you or me.  All because of the color of their skin.

What Cody saw that afternoon is a reality:

• In the United States, according to Federal Reserve’s 2013 survey of Consumer finances, White families hold 90% of the national wealth, Latino families hold 2.3%, and black families hold 2.6%.
• The median wealth for a single white woman in the US is $41,000, the median wealth for a black woman is $100. And for single Latinas it’s $120.
• According to the Pew Research Center, for the past 60 years, black unemployment has been twice as much a white unemployment.  
• In May of 2014 Atlantic magazine detailed a study that showed that blacks with college degrees are twice as likely to be unemployed as all other graduates.  
• The US Department of Education reported in 2014 that when all age groups are examined, black students are three times more likely to be suspended than white students, even when their infractions are similar.
• And once black children are in the criminal justice system, they are 18 times more likely than white children to be sentenced as adults.
• While blacks constitute 13% of the population of the United States, they make up 40% of the prison population.  

The opportunities, the possibilities the very realities that are available to us in this room this morning are not open to everyone who is part of our country, our state, our city … our very neighborhoods.  All because of the color of their skin.  

While our outrage may be genuine and our concern may be sincere, at the end of the day we still go back to our own communities and live our own lives … not seeing, any more, what outraged us or gave us cause for concern.

This morning’s Torah portion mirror this experience of ‘not seeing’ of ours.  We read the account of the people entering into a great social contract — offering opportunity and prosperity.  “You stand this day, ALL of you … your tribal heads, your elders and your officials, all the men of Israel, your children, your wives, even the stranger within your camp, from woodchopper to water drawer ….  it is the whole community, of Israel.”  It seemed like everybody was there, accounted for … part of this great covenantal contract.   However, it is not EVERYBODY.  It is just all of the Jews and a few others mixed in who also left Egypt.  However, In the setting of Deuteronomy there are numerous peoples living in that same land … Hittites, Amorites, Canaanites … Perizzites, Hivites and Jebusites.  They were there, but they were not seen by the authors of Torah, by the Israelites, by God.

They were not seen.  They did not count.  This menagerie of ‘ites’ did not get to be part of the promise of that covenantal contract.  Even though the Torah says ‘all of you’, it really did not mean ‘all of you.’   All did not mean all.

Torah mirrors our society today.  We feel as if we are part of a great societal covenant, that ‘all of us’ are in … but, there are Hittites, Amorites, Canaanites … Blacks, Hispanics, Muslims … who we do not see, who we do not include.  Are we comfortable living with the fact that ‘all’ does not mean ‘all.’  We have to begin to take responsibility for our place in this exclusion.  All must mean all.  

Responsibility?  Yes, responsibility.  Well, we, too, were strangers in the land of Egypt.  Wait, we have not intentionally voted for any politicians, supported any laws that would promote racism.   Most of us work hard to act kindly, fairly and respectfully when we have the chance to engage people of color. However, even though we do not act with intentional malice, it does not mean that we do not do damage.

There is a helpful, if not obscure, Talmudic concept of one’s responsibility for communal damage.  The Talmud categorizes this damage through the perspective of an owner of an oxen to the community:

• The keren or horn represents damage done with intent to harm.  (Think of an ox that attacks with its horns.)  
• The regel or leg represents damage done in the course of how the animal regularly behaves.  (Think of an animal that steps on a piece of pottery and broke it.)  
• The shain or tooth represents damage done while seeking pleasure.  (Think of an animal that ate someone else crops because of hunger or damaged a fence trying to scratch an itch.)

Let’s say that we can agree that in regard to damage done with an intent to harm – keren/horn – by us to the Black community, we can determine that we are not guilty.  What about the other categories?  Might there be things we do  – in the normal course of doing what we do – that beyond our awareness we never know how we impact an already difficult status quo of the Black community?

Rabbi Avi Killip, director of an educational organization called Project Zug, further elaborates on these categories of damage and this question of racial injustice:

… much of the damage caused by racism in America is not motivated by any hatred or anger; it just comes about through the way the system itself is set up. I may cause damage just by nature of how I walk in the world … When I go to the store to buy a shirt, I likely fail to notice that the salesperson immediately caters to my every need while the black woman next to me is ignored or maybe even followed around suspiciously. I am not trying to hurt anyone. I am just living my life, walking my walk … Most of the damage we do as white Americans is not out of malice to minorities, but in pursuit of bettering our own lives … These categories remind us that there are many ways to do damage. The intent doesn’t need to be malicious for the damage to be real … The Talmud categorizes harm in order to address fundamental questions: Who is responsible? Who is liable? And most importantly, how will we make it right?  It’s not enough to avoid intentional harm. We have to see ourselves as responsible, as liable, for our involvement in upholding, even benefiting from, a rigged and racist system. How will we make it right?”

What does making it right, look like?  I believe that making it right starts with us … trying to see beyond what we already think we see and know.  Even when doing so makes us uncomfortable, uncomfortable as thinking of Hittites or Jebusites or Amorites as Israelities.

Black Lives Matter recently made it uncomfortable — by aligning themselves with the Palestinian cause.  That alignment and the language they used to describe that alignment provoked many Jews.  But, even when that story or those who tell it provokes us we cannot stop listening, we cannot stop trying to see beyond ourselves.

Making it right begins with us beginning to see those whom we do not normally see … the Hittites, Amorites, Canaanites … Blacks, Hispanics, Muslims.  Making it right starts with realizing that we truly want All to mean All.

It is in the spirit of trying to see beyond ourselves and glimpse at this truth, I have invited our community to read and then take some time to reflect and discuss, Ta He-nasi Coates’ book, Between the World and Me.  The book is a series of essays written by Mr. Coates as a letter to his son.  He confronts the notion of race in America and how it has shaped American history, many times at the cost of black bodies and lives.  Mr Coates beautiful writing that pulls no punches feels to me like a compelling way for us to begin.  As to the ways he might provoke or challenge us, I think his owns words to his son offer us good counsel:

I drew great joy from the study, from the struggle toward which I now urge you … the struggle and rupture has made me several times over  … The changes have awarded me a rapture that comes only when you can no longer be lied to … the changes have taught me how best exploit that singular gift of study, to question what I see, then to question what I see after that, because the questions matter as much, perhaps more than, the answers.

I urge you – whether you come to reflect and discuss communally or not – to begin this process of seeing beyond what we already think we see, to study, to question and to keep on questioning.

Dad, how come all dark-skinned people live in neighborhoods like this one?

I want there to come a day when there is no need for sons or daughters to ask mothers or fathers such questions.  And why it may not be my grandchildren whose world has no need ask questions, perhaps my great-grandchildren … but only if we begin the work today.  The work of frankly confronting the inequalities and injustices in our world.  The work of seeing everybody in our community – not just those who look like us.  The work of understanding, intending and living that when we All Stand Together that when we say ‘All’,  ‘All means All’ … and even when we might say or sing ‘We’, We will mean We’

? We shall overcome,

We shall overcome,

We shall overcome, some day.

Oh, deep in my heart,

I do believe

We shall overcome, some day. ?

I am going to blame it in the Muslims.  It is the all the Muslims fault.

I had every intention of not taking this sacred time of mine – that you entrust to me – to talk about the political season, the election.  Knowing when the New Year would fall this year, knowing that the election season would be approaching a crescendo … I knew that I had a choice to make.  I don’t make it a practice regularly speak to you on politics.  I do so when I believe that addressing a spiritual aspect of whatever is happening is needed.  I do so when I believe that I feel I need to add something to the societal conversation. I do so when I believe that there is a concern, a fear or a loss or anxiety that we as a community need acknowledged.  After serious consideration, I did not think I had anything to add to this conversation – a lot of thoughtful, intelligent people have been contributing plenty already.  I did not think that our community needed any help finding clarity or perspective on the nature of this political season.

And then, along came the Muslims …

One week ago yesterday, on Sunday morning, I found myself at Masjid Taqwa – the Northeast Denver Islamic Center here in North Park Hill.  I was there at the invitation of my colleague Imam Abdur Rahim Ali.  Congressman Keith Ellison, the first Muslim elected to congress, was in town to meet with some Denver Muslim community leaders.  Imam Ali invited me and a handful of other non-Muslim colleagues to sit in on the meeting.  I listened a lot.  Congressman Ellison spoke about the importance of getting out the vote.  He did not endorse or push the Democratic candidate, but simply appealed to Muslim values and the need to respond to the prejudice, anger and hatred directed at his community during the election.  Those leaders in attendance listened, too … and then talked about their challenges and hopes in leading their communities to stand up and participate at this crucial moment in our country’s history.

I was one of only a handful of non-Muslims in the room.  I was only one of two white skinned people in the room. I was the only Jew in the room.  And yet, I felt very much at home.   I was moved by the congressman’s eloquence and passion.  I was humbled by the array of leaders in the room.  Here were people – perhaps with different titles or different ways to name the organizations they led – seeking the exact same things that we would seek and fight for, too.

The Muslims at Masjid Taqwa inspired me.  I was inspired by the simple clarity of the Congressman’s ‘get out and be heard’ message of empowerment.  I was inspired by the palpable sense in the room that these individuals seemed buoyed and energized by being reminded of their tradition’s highest vision for themselves.  I was inspired by the way this collection of souls that morning so contradicted the images and narratives that it seems our world is presenting … about muslims, about our country and about ourselves.

Our Muslims friends have inspired me to speak our truths this morning.  It was the Muslims.  They did not scare, threaten or intimidate me.  They inspired me.  Why do we gather together on this day in this way?  Perhaps one reason is that we can be a forgetful bunch.  I believe we come together to remind us of our best selves and our greatest visions.  There are many external and internal voices that get in the way of our knowing and remembering these highest aspirations.  So, we get together to remember … to be inspired and to be empowered.  Historically, we are in a moment that we all need to be awake, aware and as alive as possible.  We gather together to say the words, sing the songs, hear the ideas and listen for the sounds that wake us up.  

And for my part, in my role in the life of our community, our Muslims friends have inspired me to remind us of our truths this morning.  

We are a community of souls who are not bullies and we stand up to bullies. It does not matter if this bully operates on the playground or on the campaign trail, we stand up to those who manipulate with fear upon our insecurities.  I am not speaking about someone or others with whom we have a severe ideological difference.  (After all, aren’t we the people who boast that it is cool when 2 people have 3 opinions?)  I am speaking about the blatant and violent disregard for the other — whether the other is defined by gender, ethnicity, nationality or socio-economic status.

It may not be any more simply put than in the story of creation – on our minds today, the birthday of the world.  When the human being is created, Torah teaches us that human beings are all created B’tselem Elohim – in the divine image.  We need no reframing or rationalizing, each and every soul on this planet possess that divine spark.  Period.  No discussion.  Confronting those who seem to at best ignore and at worst extinguish the spark is our continual work in this world. No one, but no one is without it.  When we witness those who might forget this … and belittle, diminish or seek to minimize the other – we have no choice.  

We are taught in Torah: Remember the stranger, for you, too were strangers in the land of Egypt.   We are taught by our Sages: In a place where (it seems like) no one is acting like a human being, be a human being, be a mentsch!  Or to echo the words of our First Lady, “When they go low, we go high.”  Even when it seems the deniers of the divine spark are many and we are few – we must remember:  We are a community of souls who are not bullies and we stand up to bullies.

Our Muslims friends have inspired me to speak our truths this morning …

We are a community of souls who have power … and the privilege and responsibility that comes along with it.   In the landscape of this political season this power is most easily recognized by opportunity to vote.  Voting is but one of the ways we can participate in the political process.  To not vote or to abdicate our rights to lobby or organize or simply hound our elected representatives is a gross negligence of the power we have.   It is understandable to feel overcome and overwhelmed by feelings of impotence and insignificance as we look at the way money, big business, lobbyists or extreme voices seem to manipulate our societal destiny.  It is also inaccurate and untrue.  

Back to that same birthday of the world, creation story.  When the mystics read the account of the creation of the human being, they see more than a bedtime story about the birth of the first man or woman.  They teach that it was not a human being of flesh and blood, but a primordial template or software, if you will, for the whole universe.  They called it called Adam Kadmon – the Original Person.  This Adam Kadmon serves as a kind of cosmic infrastructure that weaves in and out and connects each and every human being.  A part of that Adam Kadmon lives within each and every one of us.  So much so, that each of our actions — negative or positive – impacts that cosmic infrastructure. According to this mystic wisdom, we are all ‘wirelessly’ connected into the same system — a system that transcends time and space.  Every act — even the ones we see as little, small or insignificant — changes the cosmic wiring of the universe.  There are no actions without influence, there are no people without power.  Possessing power does not immune us from feelings of fatigue or frustration.  At the end of the day, we neglect or negate this reality at our own peril.  

Our Torah teaches us:  You are holy, because the Source of Your Being, is Holy. Our Sages teaches us: When you save one soul, you save an entire world, when you destroy one soul, you destroy an entire world.  American anthropologist, Margaret Mead, taught it in a different way: “Never doubt that a small group of thoughtful, committed citizens can change the world; indeed, it’s the only thing that ever has.” Even if the world seems to tell us that we are feel powerless and insignificant, we must remember … We are a community of souls who have power … and the privilege and responsibility that comes along with it.

Our Muslims friends have inspired me to speak our truths this morning …

We are a community of souls who look at the world and see its capability, not its inability.  We do not have to look far to find the messengers that will tell us that not only that the sky is falling, but it is falling fast and furiously.   Some of this message comes to us from external voices – like the ones from the political campaign.  These voices chide us for not experiencing the same amount of the power, status and success that we once enjoyed.   This message warns us of the countries, groups and individuals who are out to get us. Some of this message comes from interval voices.  When we hear the preponderance of those external voices, the internal ones warn us to fear the consequences for us as Jews and minority.  In the shadow of our Jewish narrative, we fret and worry, wondering about our safety and security.  In this cacophony of noise, we have little bandwidth left to anticipate anything but the worst.   

The wisdom of our tradition – even at our darkest moments – pushes us in this direction of seeing more.  When we stand at the grave of a loved one … we recite the Mourner’s Kaddish.  You may have heard me say it once or a hundred times, there is no mention of death in this prayer.  It speaks of the Source of life … and the blessings of life: the experience of the holy, of joy and of peace.  At a moment of profound darkness, pain, anger, loneliness and emptiness … the Jewish tradition says: Hey! pay attention to life!  In this moment when what we have lost and lack seems so monumental, this wisdom guides us: Remember, embrace and cultivate life!  Perhaps it is our human or even our animal nature for threats and fears to gather all of our attention.  It is our divine nature that compels us to see the full picture.  

Our Torah teaches us: I have placed before you blessing and curse, life and death – Choose life.  Our Sages teach us: There is no thing that does not have its place, no person who has not their moment.  Anne Frank put it this way: “How wonderful it is that nobody need wait a single moment before starting to improve the world.” At this darkening historical moment, when it seems that the worst of our human nature dominates the stage … we must remember that we are a people who see our gifts and our opportunities, we are a people who see possibility and life, We are a community of souls who look at the world and see its capability, not its inability.

Yes it is our Muslims friends who have inspired me to speak our truths this morning … but it is for us and all of our friends that we must remember and act upon them.  We all need to be awake, aware and alive as possible. Whatever words, songs or sounds get our attention … let us speak, sing and proclaim them. The last sound we will hear this morning — will the sound that spiritually summons them all — the sound of the Shofar.  

As we hear its piercing, startling sounds …

May the shofar wake us up, heighten our awareness and aliveness.  May the shofar startle us to pay attention to the possibility and urgency of this moment of our lives, of this moment in history.  May the shofar urge us on to deeply embody our truths and take this opportunity to stand up to bullies, to wisely exercise our power; and to maturely look out at the world and see not what frightens us, but what inspires us, not our curses, but our blessings, not death, but life.    

תקיעה ….

I love having a dog once again.  Rocky entered our life 4 months ago after a 7-year non-dog hiatus.  Aside from the puppy-kind of land mines one might expect, our lives have been filled with the kind of love that one experiences from having a dog in the household.

I took Rocky earlier this week for one of his first hikes in the mountains.  He is new to hiking and he loved it – especially, the veritable cornucopia of scents to smell, bugs to chase and sticks to carry.  It made the hike go at a different pace than I had anticipated — especially the sticks to carry.  There were so many sticks to pick up, transport and nibble.  And when he finally chose one for the next part of the journey, I was more than ready to get moving again.  I queried him (as you do): What are you going to with that stick? You know that we are not stopping again so that you can chew it … you cannot take it in the car … this one is too big … that one has too many twigs.  And all the while there was Rocky blissfully marching along with his new stick.  I swear, I noticed a little extra bounce in his step when he had one of those damned sticks in his mouth.  He was not worried about its size, its mass or even what he was going to do with it.  Rocky was just content to be carrying the stick that happened to be in his mouth.

And then there came moment that instead of my consternation of the how’s, what’s and why’s of the stick … I became acutely aware of his abundant joy.  That dog became my ‘rebbe’ for a moment and embodied a classic chasidic teaching: “Joy breaks all boundaries.”  Accepting the joy of performing each task before us – no matter how mundane; no matter of the toil involved; no matter the complications and complexity that may follow – is a powerful tool.

We are engaged this time of year in the work of evaluating the kinds of boundaries that inhibit or limit our growth.  If this premise rings true – no matter if the boundaries are ones the world puts upon or those we put upon ourselves –  then mastering this joy holds an important key to our success.  With such boundaries broken, we liberate ourselves to feel, experience and encounter more.  More truth.  More love.  More meaning.  More life.  It is in the best interests of our Teshuvah to get our heads and hearts around this formula of joy.

Or from Reb Rocky’s perspective: Be happy carrying your stick!