I wanted to share with you a speech that I delivered this past Monday, when I was invited to be the keynote speaker at the Crozer-Chester Medical Center MLK Day event. I spoke after we laid a wreath at the entrance of a building that once housed the Crozer Seminary, where Dr. King himself studied in the 1950s. And Rev. Bayard Taylor, who invited me, is currently the pastor at Calvary Baptist Church in Chester, where Dr. King preached as a young seminarian! So it was truly an honor to speak to a community that feels great pride in their personal connection to the life of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.
Please feel free to write back and let me know what you think of the sermon. Thanks!
Speech at
Crozer-Chester’s Martin Luther King Day Event
Monday, January
18, 2016
Dear Friends,
I am truly honored to have
been asked to come and speak at this Martin Luther King Day of Service event. I
will admit, it IS a little daunting to be speaking here, after the wreath
laying and the video presentation; both reminders of the role that Dr. King
played in this community. I know that it is with great pride that Chester
residents speak of their connection to Dr. King, and I feel blessed to be here
honoring his memory and his legacy today.
As you know, I am a rabbi, the religious
leader of my Jewish community of Ohev Shalom, currently located in Wallingford,
just up the road from here. I say "currently" because the
congregation wasn't founded in Wallingford, it has its origins in Chester.
Records have been found that show Jews living permanently in Chester as far
back as 1859, and Ohev Shalom was first located at 3rd and Lloyd, then built a
building at 8th and Welsh in 1920, and only moved out of Chester in 1965.
Though the congregation relocated decades ago, we are still "OF
Chester," and we are proud of our heritage.
As you also heard a couple
of minutes ago, I was ordained at the Jewish Theological Seminary, JTS, in New
York City. When religious leaders first came to Chester to serve its Jewish
population, they came from JTS. Like Ohev Shalom, JTS also has a long and rich
history, dating back well into the 1800s. One of the great leaders of JTS, in
the mid-1950s, was a rabbi by the name of Abraham Joshua Heschel, who
originally came from Germany, then lived in Poland, and eventually escaped the
Nazi Regime of the Second World War, and came to New York to become one of the
primary theologians and teachers at JTS. In those days, he was quite well-known
around the country, even outside the Jewish community.
And one of the proudest
things that all JTS students know about Rabbi Heschel, that students still
speak of to this day, was his close personal friendship with Dr. Martin Luther
King, Jr. The two men met in 1963, and according to Susannah Heschel, Rabbi
Heschel’s daughter: “What brought them together was a piety that transcended
differences, forged by their love of the Bible, especially the prophets.”
And I will also share with
you that anyone who studied at JTS is familiar with a famous picture, from the
start of the Voting Rights March in Selma, Alabama, in 1965. In the middle, of
course, is Dr. King, to his left is Ralph Bunche, undersecretary of the United
Nations, and to HIS left is Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel. I wish that there
were more pictures of rabbis from the Jewish community and leaders from the
African-American community marching arm-in-arm, but unfortunately we don’t see
enough of those these days.
But Rabbi Heschel DID march
with Dr. King, and it left a tremendous impression on him. There is a very well-known
quote from Rabbi Heschel about the march – one that Jews aspire to emulate
every time they engage in activism, civil rights, violence prevention,
anti-poverty advocacy, or any other act of healing our world. Rabbi Heschel
said: “When I marched in Selma, I felt my legs were praying.”
We sometimes erroneously
believe that only our mouths can pray, or perhaps just our minds, hearts, or
even souls. But Rabbi Heschel powerfully reminded us that activism, the work of
our hands and feet, can also be praying, devoted service to the Almighty God of
the Universe.
Rabbi Heschel and Dr. King
agreed on many things. Susannah Heschel has written about how both men rejected
the theology of Aristotle, who described God as the “unmoved Mover.” According
to Aristotle, God pushed a button, or perhaps tipped the first domino, and then
the world set off on its course, without any further influence – or concern –
from God. “NO!” said Dr. King AND Rabbi Heschel. On the contrary, God is “the
most moved Mover.” “God cares deeply about human beings and is pained by human
acts of injustice and cruelty.” They each felt that deeply in their bones, and
their lives are true testaments to living by the principles in which you
believe.
I have to say, I really
love how each man, each of these incredible leaders, emphasized the Biblical
prophets. It is something I speak a lot about in my congregation, at Ohev
Shalom. We sometimes, in the popular imagination, depict prophets as predictors
of the future. We read the Biblical books of Isaiah, Jeremiah, and Ezekiel, and
we see visions of what will be, almost as if they were soothsayers or oracles,
writing about things to come in the near future or sometime millennia off in
the distance.
But I tell you now, we’ve
got it all wrong. The role of the prophet was NEVER really to emphasize the
future. They would foretell gloom or hope, depending on the audience, to try
and spur the people to change RIGHT NOW. The point isn’t the vision; it’s what
the vision is cautioning you about your actions TODAY, in this very moment.
And believe you me, it was
TOUGH being a prophet. They would tell it like it is. They held up a mirror to
society and demanded that people see themselves for who they were and how they
were behaving. And when people in Ancient Israel would tell the prophet to
stop, to keep those stupid predictions to themselves, the voice would only get
louder. Sometimes prophets wished they could stop; wished they didn't have this
impossible job. Jeremiah tells us, in chapter 20: “Then I said, I will not make
mention of Him, nor speak any more in His Name. But His word was in my heart as
a burning fire shut up in my bones.” Prophets had, and have, no choice. Once he
or she sees the true nature of things, and sees the pain and suffering in the
world, it has GOT to come out.
A prophet stands in the
breach, caught between God and humanity. Sometimes the prophet speaks to us on
God’s behalf, and sometimes to God on our behalf. It is a TOUGH job. You know,
we’ve got a lot of clergy members in the room today, as well as nurses,
doctors, orderlies, administrators; we all think WE have it rough; prophecy has
us all beat!!
In March of 1968, just a
few, short weeks before he was killed, Dr. King spoke to a gathering of rabbis,
honoring Abraham Joshua Heschel. Heschel himself introduced his friend, Dr.
King, and in those opening remarks he said the following: “Where in America
today do we hear a voice like the voice of the prophets of Israel? Martin
Luther King is a sign that God has not forsaken the United States of America.”
I think each of them saw
the other as taking up the call of the prophets of Israel. They saw in one
another a kindred soul, someone else who saw the way things were, and who could
not refrain from speaking out against violence, oppression, hate, or injustice.
They each felt that fire in their bones; perhaps it was comforting to see
someone else who carried that same burden.
Dr. King was supposed to
attend a Passover Seder in Rabbi Heschel’s home a few, short weeks after that
ceremony. Instead, Rabbi Heschel found himself with the tragic and
heart-breaking task of reading a psalm at Dr. King’s funeral.
As you are likely aware,
Passover celebrates the story of the Exodus from Egypt. In fact, in the Jewish
community right now, we are reading that story in our annual cycle of Biblical
readings. Starting in the fall, Jews around the world read one small section of
our Torah, the Five Books of Moses that are the first five books of our shared
Bible, each week, so that we end up back in the fall at the end of Deuteronomy,
ready to restart our cycle again at the beginning of Genesis.
This past Sabbath, we read
the story of the final three plagues, rained down on the Egyptians by God, and
then the glorious story of the Israelites finally escaping slavery.
In my sermon to the
congregation, I highlighted one, single verse, often overlooked in this
world-famous story. In Exodus, chapter 12, verse 37, we are told that “the
Israelites journeyed from Rameses.” THAT, seemingly minor statement, is
actually the precise moment where they finally leave. And that is NOT the verse
I wanted to highlight. The NEXT verse informs us, “Moreover, a mixed multitude
went up with them.” In Hebrew, the text uses the term “Erev Rav.” “A mixed
multitude.”
I don’t know if you were
already familiar with this statement. Perhaps you were. But if you weren't, it
might have surprised you to hear that the Israelites, in fact, did not leave
alone. MANY other people left with them. Other slaves, other disenfranchised
people – probably captured in one Egyptian conquest or another – seized the
opportunity and escaped bondage WITH the Israelites.
In my remarks to the
congregation, I said: “Others threw their lot in with ours, and we took
responsibility for their ultimate destiny. Our fates were intertwined, and this
motley crew of former-slaves had to learn to coexist, and even rely on one
another for their very survival.”
We cannot do this alone.
None of us can. The story of the Exodus teaches us that we can only escape
slavery and oppression together. As Dr. King so prophetically reminds us: “All
men are caught in an inescapable network of mutuality.” OUR lives, all of us in
this room, in the city of Chester and the surrounding communities of Delaware
County and beyond, our survival and success is dependent on one another. It is
inescapable.
We are the Erev Rav, the
mixed multitude. There are A LOT of things that enslave and oppress us, but
like the ancient Israelites and their fellow freed slaves in Egypt, we need to
band together to defeat these plagues. And if we cannot defeat them right away,
we must at the very least face them together.
And YET, we actually have to strike a
difficult balance. It is true, We need to be like the prophets, with our eyes
wide open and our hearts ready to tackle the truth of our situation. But what I
also think is SO powerful about the teachings of Dr. King is his refusal to
despair. So often today, I read articles and talk to people who say the
situation is hopeless. Racism is too ingrained in us. Hate is too powerful,
corruption too widespread, and the people too disheartened. But Dr. King never
said it was hopeless. Could we really ever claim that our situation and our
plagues are WORSE than what Dr. King faced in his day? He saw it all, but
maintained his hope. We need that same attitude - to see the honesty of our
situation, but never allow ourselves to lose hope.
I was listening to a
fascinating interview recently with Valerie Jarrett, senior advisor to
President Obama. She was asked about a famous quote by Dr. King, and a recent
rebuttal, written by the incredible writer, Ta-nehisi Coates. Dr. King said, “The
arc of the moral universe is long, but it bends towards justice.” And in his
book, Between the World and Me, Coates retorted, “the arc of history
bends towards chaos.”
And when she was asked
about this, Valerie Jarrett said Coates wasn’t necessarily wrong, but that she
refused to see the world that way. She refused to accept that the lesson of
history is everything turns towards chaos. Like Dr. King, Jarrett said she
insisted on staying positive. Not because she was ignoring the problems in our
world, but because she maintained faith that we are moving in the right
direction, and things ARE getting better.
Once again, it is the balancing act that we
must do. Honest, yet hopeful. President Obama, in fact, expresses this same
sentiment in his book, "The Audacity of Hope," where he writes:
"To think clearly about race, then, requires us to see the world on a
split screen... to maintain in our sights the kind of America that we want
while looking squarely at America as it is, to acknowledge the sins of the past
and the challenges of the present without becoming trapped in cynicism or
despair.”
And so, today, on Martin Luther King Day, I
must turn to all of you, and ask if this is something you can do. Can you
maintain this split-screen with me? Can we talk about systemic racism and gun
violence and the problems that plague our society, but all while refusing to
become bitter, jaded, or so cynical that nothing changes? Can we come to the
table and speak honestly, holding up mirrors to one another, and challenging
each other to be our best selves, to form new relationships and bonds across
our various divides, to heal our country and our world together?
I am not saying this to you because it's
easy. It isn't easy for me as a white, Jewish, male, straight, (let's face it)
privileged person to speak about oppression and invoke the name of Martin
Luther King as if I've lived ANY of the hardship he endured. Or to represent a
congregation, Ohev Shalom, that is "of Chester," but moved away half
a century ago, and hasn't always maintained relationships in the community the
way it could have, or should have, done all along. This isn't easy.
But I share all of this with you today,
because of my ancient ancestors, the Israelites, who marched out of Egypt
arm-in-arm with a mixed multitude of freed slaves. I stand here proudly,
because of my rabbinic role model, Abraham Joshua Heschel, who marched
arm-in-arm with Dr. King. My history reminds me that we cannot do this alone.
We all need one another. We all share an "inescapable network of
mutuality." Every year, on this day, we should recommit to the work of
battling oppression and speaking out against injustice, AND defiantly refuse to
lose hope that someday we will win.
I urge ALL of us to do just that. To keep a
clear eye and vigilant focus on the chaos that swirls around us. However, we
cannot allow ourselves to be crushed by it. It may push us, it may bend us… and we SHOULD bend. But when we do, let us
bend toward justice.
Thank you.
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