Shabbat Shalom

“Shabbat shalom” (“peaceful Sabbath”) was the greeting at the door of our local synagogue. I had not been to a Friday evening service at Temple Beth Israel until then. I had, however, worked over the years with Paul Buch, its cantor, and had joined with many of its members involved in issues before the community, and in the development of the vegetable “farm” Uncommon Good, a powerful local social agency, had planted on the synagogue’s grounds. .

The murders in Pittsburgh, while horrible in themselves, have also reminded us that anti-semitism is not dead and that down deep may lurk the seeds of bigotry just waiting to be fertilized. Even more disturbing is the racial, ethnic and religious bigotry that lies buried in the American experience waiting for someone to stir it to life. When after the white nationalist march in Charlottesville, the President stated that there were “good people on both sides,” one wonders if he hadn’t provided the catalyst.

So when we heard about the tragedy in Pittsburgh, many of us knew we had to do something—but what? Speaking out about the rise of bigotry was our primary task. But some public recognition was also critical. The opportunity presented itself when Rabbi Jonathan Kupetz of Temple Beth Israel invited anyone who wished to remember those who had been killed to attend the regular Friday evening Shabbat service.

While the synagogue officials knew a few of us would certainly show up, they were not prepared for what happened. Thirty minutes before the service was to begin, the spacious worship area was packed. An adjacent hall was open and chairs were set up, but the space was quickly filled to overflowing. Who knows how many others were turned away. I have heard from members of my own community who could not find a place to park or who came too late even to get in the building.

At the conclusion of the powerful Shabbat service, the clergy among the visitors were invited to come forward in solidarity with their Jewish neighbors. About sixty of us responded to the invitation. Clearly the bigotry that produced the tragedy at "The Tree of Life” in Pittsburgh, and all other evidences of hatred, had no place among us.

As I sat in that service my mind went back to an incident in the Missouri city where I had been both a pastor and a member of the city council. An out-of–town contingent had come through the community soliciting ads for The Christian Yellow Pages. This publication promised to list the business, and only the businesses, whose owners declared that ‘Jesus is Lord.’

When I looked at their literature it became obvious that this effort was designed to say, “do not patronize Jews.” As a columnist in the city’s daily newspaper, I published a piece on the issue. The conservative Christians supporting the new yellow pages were livid, and demanded that I be publicly rebuked, so they called for a community rally to be held at a Baptist church that housed the largest auditorium in the city. After a series of attacks on me, an elderly woman stood and in broken English said, “I lived in Germany in those days and this is how it started. Patronizing only Christian merchants was demanded, and that meant boycotting all Jews. That is what is about to take place here.” Her testimony ended the Christian Yellow Pages in that city!

With this witness and my other warnings about the subtle evidences of bigotry, I was the first recipient of the local synagogue’s Myron Meyers Humanitarian Award. Myron Meyers was its rabbi for forty years, and had been honored and respected by the entire community.

Bigotry of any description is poison, and anti-semitism is a striking example. These days much personal bigotry is so subtle that many of us who may harbor its seeds may not even recognize its existence. So we are called to examine carefully what might be growing in the dark hidden recesses of our lives.

So when the Pittsburgh slaughter became known in my community, hundreds of our local citizens joined hands to say “NOT HERE.” And when at the door of Temple Beth Israel I was greeted with the words “SHABBOT SHALOM” I quietly responded “SHALOM ALEIKHEM” (Peace be upon you.)