Parshat Metzora Shabbat Hagadol 8 Nisan 5776 April 16, 2016 Two Eyes When a person or a community has a really bad moment, when we are not faithful to our own highest ideals, it is important not to ignore what happened, but to learn from what happened. Thursday night, April 7, was a very bad night for the Jews of Newton. I like giving happy sermons. Especially on a Shabbat like this, the b nei mitzvah of Daniel and Louis, I would love to do happy, happy. But I cannot do happy, happy today because we have to talk about what happened on April 7. Namely, the Newton public schools had an open meeting to discuss anti-semitism, racism and homophobia. There have been incidents, and the purpose of the meeting was to invite people to share their stories and to reaffirm a shared commitment to dignity and decency and respecting all of our humanity. In the course of the evening, an African American woman was trying to share her son s experience of racism. How he had been called the N word. How kids asked if they could touch his hair. How kids said to him you must know rap. While she is speaking her truth, to our great shame, several Jewish activists talked over her, disrupted her, heckled her, claiming that the purpose of the meeting was to talk about anti-semitism, not racism. If you watch the clip of this sad moment, which is publicly available, she has to stop her narrative in the middle and respond to these intrusions, arguing with them that it is legitimate for her to tell her son s story, an obvious point, but not obvious to the Jewish activists trying to interrupt her. Not hearing an African American woman s story of racism because we only have bandwidth to talk about anti-semitism was a very bad moment for the Jewish community of Newton. 1
When I heard about it, and read the press coverage, and saw the clip, I was saddened, and embarrassed, as a rabbi in Newton, as a Jew, and as a human being. I called both Mayor Warren and Superintendent Fleishman and apologized for conduct that is unworthy of us and inconsistent with our own ideals. I also tried to ascertain the identity of this woman so that I could apologize to her as well. On the underlying question of anti-semitism in the Newton Public Schools, it is important to disentangle two different issues. One, disturbing incidents of anti-semitism did happen: swastikas in the snow, anti- Semitic slurs on the wall. There is no dispute that these happened, and there is no dispute that it is totally unacceptable. Indeed, the Newton authorities, the Mayor and the Superintendent, called the meeting precisely to discuss these incidents of hate, as well as others forms of hate like racism and homophobia. In addition to these incidents of anti-semitism, as to which there is no dispute, another issue is whether the Newton curriculum is somehow infected with an anti-israel or anti-semitic bias. On this question people disagree. To me it is highly unlikely that there is any such bias, and I say this for a single, simple reason. I asked a number of our very bright teens who are in Newton s high schools whether they felt there was anti-semitism or anti-israel bias in their curriculum, and to a person they said no. Not only that, but in 19 years at Temple Emanuel, where lots of our families attend the Newton Public Schools, I have never heard from a single parent or student in the Newton Public Schools that there is such a bias. Our parents, and our students, have a strong voice. They are not afraid to speak their mind. If parents or students thought there were anti-semitism or anti-israel bias in the curriculum, I would have heard about it from them. And I never have. Nineteen years. Lots of families. Zero complaints from parents. 2
Zero complaints from students. I give greatest deference to the people closest to the facts. And from the people closest to the facts, zero complaints. I don t think it is a real issue. But Thursday night was a real issue. Does the fact that there have been anti-semitic incidents mean that we cannot also listen to an African American s story of racism? There is a larger spiritual question at stake here. Let s take this issue from the charged context of a heated town meeting and see how it plays out in our own lives. We all have our own pain. What impact should our pain have on our ability to see and respond to the pain of another? You have lost your loved one. You are saying Kaddish at the daily minyan. A new person comes in with their loss. You have your own pain. Can you see theirs? You are struggling with your health issue. A friend confides in you about her recent diagnosis. You have your own pain. Can you see hers? Your adult children are struggling, wandering in the wilderness of twenty and thirty something seeking and not finding. Somebody tells you about the struggles they are having with their lost 20-something. You have your own pain. Can you see theirs? Does our pain make us more closed or more open? More indifferent or more empathetic? The Torah portions that we are in the middle of, Tazria and Metzora, concern how two people connect when one is in great pain. There is the leper, the metzora, who has an infectious skin disease, and who in the age before modern medicine, is quarantined outside the camp, away from his family and community when he could most use their support. The only person who visits the lonely leper is the priest, who closely inspects the leper to see if his condition is getting any better, so that he can be readmitted. In commenting on this encounter, Rabbi Harold Kushner cites a midrash to the effect that the priest who inspects the leper must have two eyes. There cannot be a one-eyed priest. Why? 3
The priest needs two eyes to remind us that we need to see the person before us, and the pain they are in, in the broadest possible context. We cannot focus on one issue. We cannot focus only on our own issue. We must raise our gaze to take in the largest view. That was the spiritual sin of the Jewish activists who heckled the African American mother. They were one-eyed priests. They could only see their own issue, anti-semitism. But our Torah expects more from us. We need to try to emulate Francine Christophe. A documentary short, called Human, shares the story of a French Jewish woman named Francine Christophe, who was born in 1933. At the age of 8 she had to wear the big yellow star that says Juif. She holds it before the camera, observing how big it felt when she was a little girl. She and her mother were taken to Bergen Belsen concentration camp. Because they were the family of a Prisoner of War her father fought for the French they were allowed to bring with them a special treat: two small pieces of chocolate. Her mother said we will save these for a day when we really need it. This chocolate will give us the strength we need to make it through. Meanwhile, another prisoner, a woman named Helene, turns out to have been pregnant. One day Helene goes into labor. Francine s mother says to her: I know we were saving this chocolate for ourselves. But giving birth in a concentration camp is really hard. Helene may die. What do you think about our giving Helene the two small pieces of chocolate? Francine agreed, and they gave their two small pieces of chocolate to the woman giving birth in Bergen-Belsen. Six months later Bergen-Belsen is liberated. Francine survives the Holocaust. Roll the film forward. Francine grows up, gets married, has children. One day her daughter poses a provocative hypothetical: Mom, what would have happened if, in 1945, the 4
survivors from the camps had had available therapists, psychologists, psychiatrists? If there had been mental health services available, what impact would that have had on the trajectory of survivors lives? Francine decides to hold a conference on just this question. If there had been mental health professionals available to survivors in 1945, what impact would that have had? Lots of people attend the conference. Survivors. Historians. Therapists. Psychologists and psychiatrists. Francine gives her lecture. Right after she is done, a woman approaches Francine at her podium and introduces herself as a psychiatrist living in Marseille. She places two small pieces of chocolate in Francine s hand, and says, I am the baby. When we summon the vision to see somebody else, God only knows what beautiful things can flower. The good news is that at that town hall meeting, there were Jewish teens who did the right thing. One teen, Rebecca Wishnie, observed that It does not diminish me as a Jew to say anti-semitism is not the only issue. Another teen, our own Josh Sims Speyer, observed When we say one type of hate speech is worse than another, we build walls in our community. Francine Christophe brought two eyes to Bergen-Belsen. She could see the pain of somebody else. Rebecca and Josh each brought two eyes to that heated town hall meeting. They could see the pain of somebody else. We all need to bring two eyes to see the pain of somebody else. That is a core Jewish value. In the future, may the phrase Jewish activists refer to Jews who are active in bringing this Jewish value into our world. Shabbat shalom. 5
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