Over the last six months, I’ve traveled the US on the first legs of a national listening tour for the Jews of Color Initiative. Listening sessions in Portland, Denver, Tucson, San Diego, Los Angeles, Las Vegas, New York, and elsewhere (DC, Raleigh, Detroit and Chicago are coming up) have been filled with Jews of Color, White-identified Jews, Jews by Choice, LGBTQ+ Jews, those Jewish-adjacent, and allies. Feedback, stories, and insights about experiences in Jewish spaces have left me inspired, surprised, energized, and in tears. As the head of the JoCI, which works to create a thriving, inclusive Jewish community that reflects the multiracial composition of Jews today, hearing directly from community members is key to our efforts to serve the Jewish community. 

These tour stops reflect 21st century Big Tent Judaism. The learnings, so far, from these conversations are reminders about the galvanizing power of human connection, and the importance of staying tightly focused on the basic, everyday issues that matter to everyone (spoiler alert: it’s not Israel). Here are some of the biggest learnings:

First, we have to get off our phones and computers and visit with one another in person. I am an introvert who must work to be social and interact with people. But like receiving a hand-written letter, people find it meaningful when an effort is made to build a human connection. In-person interactions are especially important for the Jewish community because, beyond being racially and ethnically diverse, we are geographically diverse. Our national community voice is over-represented by coastal perspectives, with important regional peculiarities and nuanced differences of day-to-day life lost. It was refreshing and instructive to watch Portland community leaders converse with respect and relative ease about the headwinds they face to meaningful engagement. For them, lack of affordable housing, high gas prices, the distance between Jewish communal agencies, the impact of climate change, the harm of Fentanyl, and the history of Portland as “the Whitest City in America” matter a great deal day-to-day—often more than Israel and Zionism.

Second, let’s increase our capacity for discomfort, and talk with our colleagues in “the middle seat.” As an introvert, I always hope that no one sits next to me when I travel alone. But on recent flights out of cities like Tucson and Charleston, the Universe had other plans. Not only was I assigned a middle-seat companion, but they were right out of a casting-call for a “male actor, over 6 ft., big-build, stoic cowboy dad, 30-40, Caucasian or Caucasian-passing.” If I’m being honest, after the disappointment in having a middle-seat companion, usually the next feeling is discomfort. Will I work on my slide deck that has words like “Jews” and “racism” in 24-point font? What if my wife texts me, and my seat-neighbor sees on my phone screen the sweetest picture of the day we got our marriage license? What if my almost six-foot frame dressed in a Pendleton and Levi’s offends him?

I dropped a phone charger, and his eyes were kind when he handed it back to me. I offered to help him get his bag down when he needed his computer. His name was Brian, and he called me ma’am when he thanked me. At that moment I knew it was all going to be fine. He asked me about my work and found it so interesting as he had never thought about Jewish people who weren’t White. 

When he learned I live in California, he asked me about our thinking related to the economy, the costs of living, electric cars, and the environment. A lot of his questions started with, “is it true that Californians….”. At one point he wondered to what extent his own ideas had been shaped by propaganda. I wondered the same about my own. Brian asked about my family. We shared a bit about our stories. I learned that he was in a second-marriage to a (white) woman who had two Latino sons. Clearly, without saying it directly, Brian noted that one of his stepsons is gay. Brian had a lot of fear about the life in front of his son, and how he could best prepare him for a hateful world. I think our time together gave Brian a bit of hope that his son will be okay. Brian certainly made me feel a bit more confident in and softer about the unknown world around me. And if you ever wondered who Lockheed-Martin might call when their steel pressing machines break in the middle of making fighter aircraft, Brian is that guy! How lucky was I that Brian sat next to me and we got to have a middle-seat conversation?

I now welcome these conversations that occur with folks seemingly different from me. They break down barriers and build understanding. While we might find our way to discussing politics and policy, it is through very human interactions that we make each other feel connected and safe. These feelings build trust, trust helps us feel brave, and bravery enables us to take risks to deepen meaning with other humans. 

Third, always remember, “everywhere” has always been and is Egypt. More frequently than Jerusalem, Egypt is mentioned over 700 times in the Tanakh. The command to “remember that you were a slave in the land of Egypt” appears in the Torah 36 times, specifically cited as the reason for observing Shabbat, linking weekly rest to God’s redemption from bondage. In Exodus, in Egypt, we experience oppression under Pharaoh and also stand by idly as the Egyptians suffer when the Plagues befall them but not the Israelites. Our experience of simultaneously being oppressed and being a bystander, of being both marginalized and being an observer, is a core-memory for the Jewish people. Comfort with discomfort, rooted in experiencing freedom while also watching the subjugation of others is one of our core conditions and, as a result, core wisdoms. 

We must remember every day what it is like to be unliberated, to be unfree, and to be the people who watch and sometimes reinforce the lack of freedom and lack of liberation of others. Inside our text and Torah is the technology to hold multiple, sometimes competing and conflicting experiences and realities at the same time. We need to use our core community memories, wisdoms, technology, knowledge, and skills to build new approaches to fighting communal problems like racism and antisemitism. That technology inside us enables us to build common ground across the most challenging and uncomfortable differences in service of the common good. 

The scarier the world gets, the more inclined I am to explore it and meaningfully connect with people. This inclination has only become more pronounced as our own Jewish community struggles to coalesce around issues and themes that transcend our very deep communal differences and unify in service of a common good. Jewish Families Today tells us that Jewish families are diverse, divided, dispersed, DIYers, and Desperate for community. It’s clear from talking to people around the country that 21st Century Big Tent Judaism that eschews judgment and prioritizes human connection — that focuses on the issues that matter to, and affect, most people — will better include and galvanize all of us committed to a thriving, diverse Jewish future.

© The Times of Israel (Blogs)