Now that the Jewish fall holidays have been celebrated, I have had some time to reflect on some of the meaningful moments of late summer and early autumn. This musing was inspired in part by a coworker, who sent me a screenshot of our Facebook page, showing the interesting juxtaposition of a picture of me and my fellow clergy speaking in Jackson… with a picture of another preacher and another rabbi preparing to speak to a crowd 50 years ago.
August marked the 50th anniversary of the March on Washington. All around the United States, the diverse people that continually make this nation so great gathered to celebrate and remember that momentous day through song and prayer, through words and fellowship. I was part of the celebration here in Jackson. As I stood on the steps of the Mississippi Capitol, beside my friend and fellow Mississippi clergyman Bishop Ronnie Crudup, to honor the steps that had been made and those still remaining in the march towards true equality, I pondered that day from 50 years ago.
What would it have felt like to stand before the gathered assembly of 250,000? What exchanges may have taken place between those who waited to speak? Did Dr. Rabbi Yoachim Prinz say anything to Dr. Reverend Martin Luther King, Jr. as Prinz warmed up the crowd to hear King’s dream?
Given the collective spirit of God’s will present that day, they must have. For it was that same spirit that brought me and Bishop Crudup together this summer.
“I remember the original March,” Bishop Crudup shared. “I was seven and my mother was active in the Civil Rights Movement.”
“Aren’t you frustrated then that – as a society – we haven’t covered much ground?” I asked. “After all, right here in Mississippi, we’re still miles away from reaching a state in which every citizen – regardless of race or religion, gender or sexual orientation – has equal access to the same opportunities.”
Bishop Crudup grew reflectively silent. Then he said something I’ll never forget: “You may not see it. But, from the vantage point of my years, I do. You and I can stand together, dine together, work together. So, the work of changing laws is over; what remains is the challenge of changing hearts and minds.”
I nodded, knowing that this task was going to be as – if not more – difficult than the first task. But those who marched on Washington are passing us the baton. If we wish to move our society forward we can no longer simply march on Washington; we must also march over to our neighbors, and continue these important conversations.
October is National Breast Cancer Awareness Month. Since a peer-led health initiative is one of the programs I help coordinate, I thought I would model peer-led-health-education, and share some of this information with you.
According to Sharsheret, a national not-for-profit organization supporting young women and their families of all Jewish backgrounds, facing breast cancer, 1 in 40 Ashkenazi Jews has a gene mutation putting them at increased risk for breast cancer, ovarian cancer and related cancers.
Breast cancer and ovarian cancer are two diseases that many of us can put a face and a name to in our own families and communities. Congregations can play a critical role raising awareness about breast cancer and supporting women and their families who have been diagnosed with breast, ovarian and related cancers. Sharsheret has put together some incredible resources to make it easier for congregations to inform congregants about breast cancer, and early detection, and raising awareness in their community.
One program that Sharsheret can help bring to your community is Sharsheret Pink Shabbat.
Will you be participating in a Pink Shabbat this month? Tell us in the comments below, and please share ideas you have to bring breast cancer awareness to your community!
A week ago, a woman named Deb took her life in New Jersey. I learned about her death in an email sent to me here in Jackson, Mississippi.
Over the past few days, I have been speaking with many people who share Deb’s background. Like Deb, I too am part of a tight community of people who have left ultra-orthodoxy–this news impacts us quite personally, but should impact all Jews.
That’s why I decided to write this post. At first, I wondered how I could directly connect its content with southern Jewish life. Then I realized that this story connects to all of us, and if all Jews are responsible for one another, well, then even if the only Southern connection here is me, I still thought it was important to raise awareness about the deep pain that one community of Jews is currently feeling.
I believe in the teaching from Jewish tradition that we cannot sit idly by when injustice is taking place. Particularly when lives are literally at risk, and being lost. A while back, I wrote a post regarding Jay Michaelson’s article about fundamentalism in the Jewish community. Fundamentalism in the Jewish community is real, and dangerous, and Deb’s story is an example of why.
The ultra-Orthodox Skverer community, with the help of expert witnesses and judges, not only failed to help Deb through what is ultimately a very difficult transition; but actually made Deb’s life even harder when she chose to leave their ranks. What is one to do, upon hearing about this tragedy? Learn! Do not sit idly by. Do not let communities that, under the guise of Judaism, cause tremendous pain to people who choose to live differently. As you learn, you will find out that there are too many people who, like Deb, are beaten down by their ultra-orthodox communities of origin. The Jewish community as a whole could do better to support individuals who are alienated by their Jewish communities.
Shulem Deen’s website Unpious provides a platform where he and others share his struggle as a parent leaving ultra-orthodoxy. I encourage you to read a recent article, published by Tablet, in which he shared his reflections on Deb’s death. There is one paragraph that is particularly hard to swallow: “In my case, I didn’t lose in court. I lost my children’s hearts and with them, very nearly, my sanity. I had been many things in adulthood—a husband, an entrepreneur, a computer programmer, a blogger—but for 14 years, fatherhood defined me most. When my children withdrew their affections, I no longer knew who I was.”
If the community that you had once is now against you, and the larger community is not actively taking your side, hope is hard to find. My hope is that a larger segment of the population, including the readership of this blog, will realize that reaching out and supporting those who leave fundamentalism is important and benefits not only the individuals to whom we lend our support, but also benefits us all. If welcomed into the larger society, those who leave their community of origin bring many gifts and talents to the world.
Lani Santo is the Executive Director of Footsteps, an organization that assists people who, like Deb, choose to leave their community of origin, and live a life that is consistent with their personal needs and beliefs. In an email to friends of the organization, in which she responded to this tragedy, she wrote, “It is our sincere intention to work for lasting change so that any individual who wishes to leave ultra-Orthodoxy and build a self-determined life can do so. It’s the one true way we can honor those who felt they could not live with the consequences of their brave decision.”
I echo Lani’s sentiment. My thoughts are with Deb’s loved ones, and with each person who has experienced struggles like hers. May all of our hearts be moved to action.