I have had many reactions so far to the recently leaked audio of comments made by Los Angeles Clippers owner Donald Sterling. For those who have missed the media coverage, Sterling had a lengthy conversation with his girlfriend about why she should remove all photos of herself with African-Americans on the social media platform Instagram and why she should not bring African-Americans to Clippers basketball games.
First and foremost, I am disgusted by his comments. I am disgusted by the dehumanizing hate inherent in his words. I am disgusted that Donald Sterling is a Jew, the son of immigrants who knew what it meant to be hated for what you were rather than judged for who you were as a person. I am disgusted that Sterling can date his girlfriend/mistress (he is not divorced from his wife), who is both African-American and Mexican, while finding her public associations with other African-Americans to be abhorrent. I am disgusted that Sterling can find it fitting to profit from the physical exploits of his predominantly African-American basketball players yet prefer for African-Americans not to attend his games. I am disgusted that a Jew would be associated with these racist comments at the time of Yom Hashoah, Holocaust Remembrance Day, when we affirm our commitment never to forget what hate and discrimination can lead to. So I join the basketball players, sports columnists, and pundits who have condemned these comments. I hope, once due process runs its course, that if it is confirmed that Sterling spoke these words (thus far he has not denied that it is his voice speaking), that he is forced to sell his team and banned from basketball.
(Update: NBA Commissioner Adam Silver announced today that Sterling admitted to being the speaker on the audio recording and Silver banned Sterling for life from the NBA and was fined $2.5 million)
I further hope that the Jewish community of Los Angeles will exercise tochecha (rebuke) and reject his presence and involvement unless and until he shows true contrition and a willingness to engage in teshuva (restorative repentance).
Yet some might view Sterling’s comments as less abhorrent than the overtly racist screeds we heard earlier this week from Cliven Bundy, the Nevada rancher who illegally grazed his cattle on federal lands and refused to pay for it. Bundy, of course, became infamous last week for telling New York Times reporter Adam Nagourney that African-Americans were better off when they were slaves:
“They abort their young children, they put their young men in jail, because they never learned how to pick cotton. And I’ve often wondered, are they better off as slaves, picking cotton and having a family life and doing things, or are they better off under government subsidy? They didn’t get no more freedom. They got less freedom.”
Seen in this light, Sterling’s comments seem far less jarring. Disregarding the fact that Sterling has a history of explicitly racist comments, in the audio recording, Sterling argues that he is not racist but a realist. At about the one minute mark, he claims that his girlfriend should not publicly associate with African-Americans not because they are inherently bad but because of public perception of minorities as bad. “I’m living in a culture, and I have to live within the culture. So that’s the way it is.”
Yet there is an insidious underpinning to Sterling’s comments that bothers me, as a Jew, far more than Bundy’s noxious harangue. Sterling argues that we stuck with the detritus of our culture, that there is nothing we can do individually to change racism in America. But this idea of acquiescence is anathema to Judaism! It is the opposite of the redemption we have experienced throughout our national history and which we pray for daily in our liturgy. The story of Abraham is the story of a man being willing to leave his homeland, his status quo, for an uncertain future. And, in Genesis 18 (when Abraham argues with God about the destruction of Sodom and Gomorrah), it is the story of a man who was willing to stand up to no less than God for what he thought was right. The story of Passover, which we just celebrated, is the story of God, through Moses, freeing the Israelite slaves in Egypt from the mightiest empire then on earth. The story of the founding of Israel in 1948 is the story of a people who had been exiled from their homeland for nearly 2000 years yet never giving up hope of an ultimate restoration to that land. As Rabbi Tarfon insists in Pirkei Avot (Ethics of Our Fathers) 2:16, “It is not your responsibility to finish the work [of perfecting the world], but neither are you free to desist from trying.” Standing up to the status quo, fighting for what is just, effecting change in a world of intransigence and stasis—this is what makes Jews Jews.
During the seven weeks from Passover to Shavuot, we Jews count the Omer to symbolize and to embody the ongoing pursuit of personal and collective redemption. As we do so this year, let us continue to fight for what is right and reject those who claim “that’s just the way it is.” Let us reject the Sterlings who accept the world with all its flaws and re-commit ourselves to creating the world as we aspire it to become.
Have you filled out your bracket yet? Yes, “Madness” is in the air as the most exciting two weeks of sports in America are about to begin: the NCAA Men’s (and Women’s) College Basketball Tournament. Roughly 50 million Americans (myself included) will take time out of our busy schedules to plot out 63 different matchups and enter our picks into office pools or online competitions. We will spend countless hours sneaking peaks at TVs or mobile broadcasts of the games during work and neglecting our kids at home for hours at a time on the weekends, leading to the inevitable stories about how many billions of dollars in productivity our economy has squandered. But why do we care so much about a bunch of college basketball games?
For starters, there is the chance of work-place glory and even some petty cash for winning one’s office pool. The self-proclaimed “experts” among us will analyze conference records, strength-of-schedule comparisons, and other analytical metrics, agonizing over each pick until we are convinced we have the perfect bracket. We will check our results daily, arguing at the water cooler over why our upset picks should have won. And then we will lose our office pool to the person who picks teams based on who has the cutest mascot! For those who yearn for more than just office bragging rights this year, Warren Buffett has upped the cash ante by offering $1 billion to anyone who can correctly pick all 63 games (spoiler alert: the odds are roughly 1 in 9 quintillion that you will do so, so don’t start spending that billion just yet).
For many others, the thrill of the NCAA Tournament is less about filling out brackets than about a celebration of all that is good about sports. While professional sports are filled with doping scandals and selfish athletes who play more for their next contract than the welfare of their teams, college basketball is different. As one blogger recently put it, “March Madness is the culmination of hundreds of hours of blood, sweat and tears. It is a group of unpaid athletes brimming with school pride and playing with emotional intensity that only comes with playing on the national stage.”
There is a sense of meritocracy in the Tournament; of hard work, effort, and sacrifice for the greater good being rewarded with team wins, since the best teams in college basketball are not necessarily those with the best individual players. The passion of the players and coaches in the Tournament is palpable, from the shouts of joy to the tears streaming down players’ faces as they realize that their year, and for some their career, is over. This passion somehow works its way through the television and into our own hearts as we cheer on our favorite teams or shriek with delight as this year’s Cinderella teams make buzzer-beating shots. I challenge you to watch the famous CBS video montage, “one shining moment,” at the end of the Tournament and not feel your heart race!
But I think there is a deeper reason why so many millions get engrossed in the NCAA Tournament. It offers us a bonanza of something we rarely get to experience: unpredictable and exciting results. So much of our lives today are on auto-pilot. We have our work routines, our home routines, our usual Starbucks stops, etc., that we thirst for what is new or novel. The randomness and unpredictability of the Tournament provide this in abundance. In the homogenized, gentrified world in which so many of us live, the Tournament’s inherent uncertainty offers us something we rarely find, especially in real-time.
The sad truth is that this is what Judaism is supposed to offer us. Our rituals and our religious calendar are supposed to give us breaks from our quotidian existences. Shabbat and other holidays are supposed to provide respites from, and a reorientation of, our normal work-weeks. Praying during the day, whether in formal services or extemporaneous prayers, take us out of our automated consciences and give us the opportunity to access the sublime. Unfortunately, we, as Jewish leaders, are failing in our efforts to transmit this crucial experiential legacy. We are not providing the kind of targum (translation) of how our texts and rituals have the potential to be transformative, to shake us from complacency and satisfy our desire for authenticity and creativity.
March Madness reminds us that we all need experiences that feel genuine, organic, and even miraculous. We crave these breaks from our ordinary lives, these chances to feel truly alive. The NCAA Tournament offers this to us for two weeks each year. The challenge for Jewish professionals is to find ways to transmit our heritage, our culture, our Torah in the same way. We have the potential for 52 weeks of Madness; it us up to us to deliver.
p.s. Florida is looking tough to beat this year, and don’t forget to pick at least one 12 seed to upset a 5 seed!