When Civil Rights Lost it’s Jewish Soul

Walking with my kids across the Edmund Pettus Bridge in Selma, Alabama, you can feel the history pressing in from all sides. Think oppressive Alabama heat, the persistent hum of passing traffic, and the palatable ghosts of batons, dogs, and tear gas, still lingering in the air. This was the very spot that Martin Luther King Jr. and his supporters had taken a stand and marched for justice in defiance of the overwhelming odds. Despite the gravity of the moment, it was difficult not to ask the obvious question: what actually happened to that dream?

Mickey Gross on the Edmund Pettus Bridge

We sat beneath the bridge drinking ice-cold Coca-Colas, chatting with the old-timers about those fateful days when, in spite of the oppression, there was a sense of hope for the future and history in the making. They recounted to us about all the yarmulkes that walked alongside them and pointed out the Jewish storefronts where the marchers could find respite and even refuge.

Selma, Alabama Shul

They showed us the Shul that was just a stone’s throw from the bridge and told us about the vibrant Jewish community that once was in Selma. There was a strong sense of unity in mission,  and the fight for justice back then was a shared one that had a strong Jewish theme and active participation.

This was a very different experience from the frosty reception we received in both Ferguson, Missouri and George Floyd Square in Minneapolis. We visited Ferguson on the first yahrzeit of Michael Brown to pay our respects, and we were “urged” to get into our car and drive back to New York.

Shayale & Shlomie Gross at the Michael Brown Memorial Ferguson

In George Floyd Square, the atmosphere was at best hostile and at times threatening. The message was clear: we were not just outsiders; we were unwelcome. The stark contrast between those experiences and the positive reception we had in Selma was too significant to be ignored, and even if I had wanted to, my kids demanded answers.

What transpired between Selma and George Floyd that caused such a seismic shift in the entire movement, and what would the good Reverend think about the state of his legacy today?

The Reverend King was strongly influenced by biblical undertones and Jewish philosophy. He worked closely with Rabbis and Jewish communities in what was considered a shared responsibility in righting the wrongs of Jim Crow and finishing the job for which Reconstruction had so spectacularly failed. The Reverend not only marched arm in arm with his Jewish friends and colleagues but was vociferous in his support for Israel. He never wasted an opportunity to mention the ultimate sacrifice made by the two young Jewish activists in Mississippi, acknowledging their dedication to the cause.

In spite of all this, less than two decades after his senseless assassination, the movement went from Jewish brotherhood to a full-blown program in Crown Heights. How can the legacy of someone as noble as MLK be so completely misconstrued that the self-appointed heir to his mantle, Al Sharpton, would whip a baying mob into hysteria over a false antisemitic narrative? This Sharpton-fueled racial violence directly resulted in the murder of Yankel Rosenbaum, with the mob chanting “Kill the Jew.” This was clearly not the dream; this nightmare was a perversion of King and set aflame all that he stood for.

The irony is that after MLK was assassinated, the Lubavitcher Rebbe addressed his murder during a farbrengen (Chassidic gathering) just two days later (Shabbat HaGadol, 5728):

“A person who fought for justice and fairness was suddenly taken from us… Every human being was created in the image of God, and differences in race and color are merely external. What matters is the soul, which has no color. The murder of any individual, particularly one who sought to bring justice and fairness to the world, is a terrible tragedy.”

(Farbrengen, 6 Nissan 5728 / April 6, 1968, Likutei Sichos, vol. 6, p. 114)

In order to hopefully achieve clarity in this paradoxical situation, we continued our journey to Memphis and the Lorraine Motel, the site of the tragic assassination of Reverend King. James Earl Ray, an unapologetic racist, took his shot at 6:01 p.m. on April 4, 1968, while King was standing outside room 306. Standing at the very spot, you can feel the sense of injustice at a life cut short for standing up for what he believed. It is also clear that at this moment, the moral clarity of the King era was usurped by the racial grievance of what would follow.

The Jewish allies were swiftly purged from the movement, Black Power replaced brotherhood, and the dream of achieving equality was replaced with one of victimhood. This was not just a betrayal of the vision of MLK but a wholesale abandonment of his core message of unity and alliance. The dream of Reverend King died with him at the Lorraine Motel on that fateful day.

In the decades that followed, the likes of Farrakhan, Sharpton, and Jesse Jackson became the self-anointed leaders of the movement that emphasized antisemitism over unity. The true flame carriers of the legacy, such as Justice Clarence Thomas, Thomas Sowell, and Glen Loury, were treated as pariahs in their communities while the pretenders to the throne were deified for their rhetoric and vitriol as they focused on identity politics.

Today, we are subjected to the pseudo-intellectualism of Ibram X. Kendi and Robin DiAngelo, who represent everything that MLK rejected. Their promotion of race essentialism, collective guilt, and a worldview that divides people by color rather than uniting them by character is an affront to the dream and the principles of the good Reverend.

Continuing east to Atlanta and the grave of Reverend King, the conversation in the car was heated as we dissected the journey from Selma to George Floyd and all the missed opportunities in between. Why did Reconstruction fail so dismally (Andrew Johnson)? Why did the movement allow itself to be hijacked after the death of King? How different would America be today if King had survived and achieved his stated objectives?

With these questions hanging in the air, we said a fervent prayer at the graveside of Reverend King to restore his dream as one of unity, not division, of dignity, not grievance, of character, not color, and  to finally bring harmony to America because in its absence, greatness will always be elusive.

“How many years can some people exist before they’re allowed to be free?’”

Bob Dylan – Blowing in the Wind