Sermon (6th April) by Edie Friedman, Executive Director of JCORE

Written by Writings & Sermons by others — 8 April 2019

Let me start with a bit of history.

I was born in 1949 on the West Side of Chicago. My parents were first generation Americans born to Russian immigrants. Like the East Side of New York and the East End of London, the West Side of Chicago was settled by recent immigrants.
During the 1960s the Civil Rights and Peace Movement profoundly affected me as it did many others of my generation. At University I took a course called Judaism 101. We sat in our torn-off jeans and Che T-shirts, chewing gum and waxing lyrical about how it was possible to save the world. A certain Rabbi J. Goldberg, who I am sure would have been a disciple of Heschel’s, taught the class, helping us to make the connection between our idealism and being Jewish.
In the early 1970’s I moved to Britain. In some sense, I felt like I was a political exile from the America of the late 1960s. I am not suggesting that I was at any risk because of my views. Nor was it just that my political heart was more comfortable elsewhere, but the enthusiasm and the optimism of the early 60s had given way to despair that our endeavours to create a more just world had come to nothing.
I left an America, still recovering from the poison of 1950s McCarthyism, which was rife with political conflict: thanks to the increasingly unpopular war in Vietnam; and a black population still disenfranchised from the American Dream; it was an America where student and political unrest was too often met by violent responses by the state and was scarred by the assassination of three of its most eloquent icons: John Kennedy, Robert Kennedy and Martin Luther King.
I also left an America where Jews, whether religious or secular, played a disproportionate role in many of the social movements struggling to create a country which embodied humane domestic and foreign policy.
The Britain I had moved to was, unlike the America I left, a country which had institutionalised outstanding social provision through the creation of its welfare state and National Health Service. But paradoxically the Jewish community I found in Britain was, unlike my American experience, less involved in an overt way in issues of social justice, even if individual Jews played (as they have done in many parts of the world) a disproportionate role.

It was in this climate that I started in 1976 The Jewish Council for Racial Equality, known then as the Jewish Social Responsibility Council, spurred on by a Jewish woman who said “I’m glad you do the Christian thing of love your neighbour!”

During these past 40 years certain questions keep occupying me

Why do so many secular Jews still recognise the ethical impulse within Jewishness?
How do we get those many Jews who are involved with social justice but find absolutely no identification with any aspect of Jewishness, to find some identification? How do we make more room for those many who sit on the margins?
If social justice is meant to be one of the core values in Judaism, why is it that so many observant Jews do not involve themselves in social Issues? Susannah, the daughter of our great sage and political activist Abraham Heshel wrote that when her father was heavily involved in civil rights and the peace movement he received warnings and complaints from some members of the Jewish community, who felt his protests were endangering American government support for the State of Israel.
And why, that even though a disproportionate number of progressive Jewish involve themselves in social issues, most do not. Why not? This is troubling and perplexing as much is made of the fact that the prophetic tradition is paramount within progressive Judaism.
Where are the voices in our Jewish world that are speaking up for an inclusive, tolerant Judaism where dissent and questioning are seen as absolute virtues, in fact the very cornerstones of our tradition? The voices must be amplified to offset those who want to shut down debate.
How do we recognise our Jewish heroes? Not super-human beings but those people articulated positive Jewish ethical values and a commitment to social justice There I know I feel a certain sense of pride (and I am not alone) when I read (mainly in the Guardian obituaries) about the life and times of prominent Jewish anti-apartheid activists and other social justice champions.
How do we ensure that our children grow up in an environment which encourages them to see the connection between Judaism and social justice ? Several times when I have visited Jewish schools, I have asked pupils the question “What does Judaism have to say about our responsibility towards others?” This question was more often than not met with an embarrassed silence. Abraham Heshel wrote in his diary – that Jewish religious institutions have again missed a great opportunity, namely, to interpret a civil-rights movement in terms of Judaism. The vast majority of Jews participating actively in it are totally unaware of what the movement means in terms of the prophetic traditions”.
Why is it so easy to forget our own history as well as our tradition? I meet with a wry smile those protests from fellow Jews about how unworthy today’ immigrants and asylum seekers are, compared to how we were. Why do we forget that the first anti-immigration legislation was directed against Jewish immigrants in 1905?
How do we get beyond our day to day concerns, communal politics and bickering and compassion fatigue?

I want my Jewish world to be a place where social justice is the norm, rather than the exception. I don’t want this to happen at the expense of other aspects of being Jewish, but as something which is part and parcel of that Jewishness.
So on to the next 70 years – I am an optimist!

Resist compassion fatigue. – refugees, homeless people, victims of war – don’t have the luxury of giving in. Their situation won’t improve unless there is a concerted and combined effort to change it.

Revisit the word tolerance – regarded by some as outmoded because of its association with the rather patronising acceptance of others. We need to recognise there are ever- increasing levels of intolerance within our current public discourse and behaviour and that we need to get back, at the very least, to a place where a modicum of respect and a live-and-let-live mind-set prevails.
Make sure we occupy a scapegoat-free zone. We need to deal not only with the pernicious post-Brexit rise in hate crime, but also to be on guard against the scapegoating of groups such as migrants and refugees and Muslims which is reinforced by certain sections of the press and politicians and make sure we don’t indulge in the good Jew vs bad Jew scenario. The drip-feeding of stories that turn individuals and groups into caricatures is damaging. We, of all people, know where that can lead.
Change our relationship with social media. A diet of verbal abuse, misogyny, antisemitism, Islamophobia, other forms of hate crime, and just plain shouting is simply not good for the nation’s psychological well-being. use social media, we do so with.
Work more closely together – develop working relationships with other minority communities, and with organisations. Recently a new group has started BAJA a black/Asian/Jewish Alliance- where we can have common front against all forms of racism not just the one which affects our own community..
Broaden our horizons – rethink where we get our information. We need to avoid staying within our own media bubble, and instead become more familiar with a wider spectrum of issues and views affecting Britain today. Could the Jewish press and communal organisations not do more to help facilitate this?
Become more knowledgeable on one important issue – such as homelessness or child poverty – and galvanize others to do the same. There is no campaign within our community about either of these critical problems, and there should be. It only needs one person to start one…
Be realistic about what can be achieved and set achievable goals – we all need to feel that on some level we can, individually or collectively, make a difference.
Reframe our notion of ‘what is good for the Jews’. Being Jewish has always reflected a struggle between universalism and particularism. What is good for us is the same as what is good for the UK as a whole: the just treatment of refugees and asylum seekers; a commitment to human rights; a decrease in inequality and measures to tackle racial attacks, Islamophobia, xenophobia and hate crime generally.
Stay positive- -Honestly there is life beyond Brexit!

Shabbat shalom