While reading “The Book of Delights” by Ross Gay, I come across the phrase, “the long, if complicated, political companionship between blacks and Jews.” In the light of the recent events in the US and around the world, these words seem to strike me differently than they would have several weeks ago.
As I consider this past High Holiday season, a time when many of us reach out to friends and family whom we have wronged—in order to hold ourselves accountable, not in order to be forgiven—I reflect also on Jessica Krug, a white Jew from Kansas who claimed to be Afro-Latinx for most of her life. Krug was an associate professor of history at George Washington University, where she specialized in politics and cultural practices in the African diaspora, of which she pretended to be a member. With the history of blackface being used to belittle Black American culture, and perpetrate racist stereotypes, I hope that it is not necessary to explain that Jessica Krug’s “academic blackface” is racist, abhorrent, and extremely damaging, especially to the Black students she interacted with as a professor.
Whether we “claim” her or not, whether we knew her or not, as a Jew, Jessica Krug is part of our community. All of us must atone for her transgression, just as all of us must atone for the transgressions of synagogues who hired police and security that scrutinized Black Jews and Jews of Color entering our sanctuaries. There cannot be any evasion here.
Atonement, or at-one-ment, as my rabbi likes to enunciate, is the act of reconciling oneself with G-d. In a way, this is also the reconciliation of oneself with the world: the taking on of responsibility for fixing a hurt or undoing a wrong. In Vayikra 16, the verse we read on Yom Kippur, it is stated that “from the community of the children of Israel, [Aaron] shall take two he goats as a sin offering” to bring before G-d (16:5). It is also stated that “he shall effect atonement for himself and for the people.” (16:24). There is a dual emphasis on community in this verse: the communal ownership of the goats, and the community of Aaron and his household, and the Children Israel for whom these sacrifices serve to “effect atonement” (16:16). The community is responsible for providing the sacrificial vessel—the way to atone, in the modern world—and it is the whole community whose transgressions are brought together into this vessel to be sent forth to G-d.
More applicable to the situation of Jessica Krug is the verse of the Talmud which states, “The Jewish people … are punished for each other’s sins, which teaches that all Jews are considered responsible for one another. The reference is to a case where others had the ability to protest the sin but they did not protest. Consequently, they are punished for not protesting, regardless of any familial relationship they may have with the sinner” (Sanhedrin 27b). It is through these verses that we are taught that we must atone for every transgression big and small, for every transgression knowingly and unknowingly, for every transgression communal and individual. Yes, communal. Yes, even if you stood against a communal transgression that occurred, our Torah teaches us to atone. Yes, even if you did not know the transgression occurred, our Torah teaches us to atone.
Because of the oftentimes close relationships between Jewish houses of worship and police precincts who are hired to protect against anti-Semitic violence, this year our communities have been especially complicit in upholding a police state built on white supremacy. As fear of antisemitic acts escalate under the Trump administration, our communities turn increasingly to the police for protection. This relationship serves to provide police precincts with the community support that they crave when so much of our nation is opening their eyes to the fact that police and policing have been created and crafted to protect property, often at the expense of marginalized people. Additionally, and most importantly, continuing Jewish community relationships with the police puts Black members of our synagogue and neighborhood communities at risk of violence. This is also a communal transgression for which we as white Jews must answer.
Rabbinical Judaism teaches us there is both no wrong too small to atone for and no wrong too big to atone for. It is at this time that we wrestle with the difficulties of Un’taneh Tokef, the verse which tells us, “it is written on Rosh Hashana and sealed on the fast Yom Kippur who will live and who will die” and only through teshuvah (return to the self), tefillah (attachment to the physical and spiritual world), and tzedakah (enacting justice) can we temper the harshness of this decree. Un’taneh Tokef is a difficult verse to study, both for the fatalistic nature of its declaration and for the responsibility it places on each individual to commit to teshuvah, tefillah, and tzedakah lest they be written in as one who will die.
During a poetry performance by a member of the synagogue I attended for High Holiday services, a question was posed regarding the complexities of Un’taneh Tokef: “When [it is written for someone to die] asleep in their bed at the hands of an officer, whose teshuvah, whose tefillah, whose tzedakah can temper this?” It sure isn’t Breonna Taylor’s. Or Amadou Diallo’s. Or Sandra Bland’s. Or George Floyd’s. There is no easy answer in Judaism here.
In the framework of teshuvah as part of the acts of atonement, it is important to examine what atonement entails in a larger sense. Often, especially in a world so dominated by Christian ideology, the idea of atonement is rarely presented as separate from forgiveness. This is not so in Judaism. Despite the complexities of the question of whose teshuvah is necessary to rewrite the fate the upcoming year has set in store for each of us, nowhere do we see forgiveness as part of that equation. In the face of these hardships, these impossible We must remember, there is no onus on us, or anyone but G-d, to forgive. No one has to forgive racists, no one has to forgive white supremacists, no one has to forgive antisemites. They may atone, again and again, and we do not have to forgive them.
We do not have to forgive Jessica Krug, the white woman who put on blackface and masqueraded as a stereotype for most of her life. It is on her to atone, but we as a community do not need to forgive her. The Black students whose trust was broken with her lies do not need to forgive her. The Black scholars around the world whose opportunities were taken by her do not need to forgive her. She does not need, nor deserve, forgiveness. This being said, her situation does require understanding;not sympathy, but rather asking how did our Jewish community fail her? How can we ensure that our community does not create a situation in which actions like hers can be deemed acceptable?
As Jews with European ancestry gained whiteness over the past 70 years, some Jewish communities have refused to acknowledge this transition, arguing that our experiences of antisemitism at the hands of white supremacists preclude us from whiteness. Classifying antisemitism as separate from racism seems to create cognitive dissonance among some groups of white Jews, and I wonder what it is about our history and our communities that leads so many white Jews to refuse to acknowledge their whiteness? If we can universally acknowledge that class privilege is different from race privilege (though they have many intersections), why is it so difficult to see antisemitism as separate from racism? Is it because not all of antisemitism is strictly due to religious differences? Is it due to the fact that “Jewish” has been classified as a race in the past? Other scholars explore these questions with more depth than I will here, but it all makes me wonder, do we not see the disservice to Black Jews when we refuse to make this distinction in oppression? When we refuse to acknowledge that those of us who are white are afforded certain privileges that change how we interact with the world relative to Black Jews? Why do our communities continue to allow this manifestation of anti-Blackness? What can we do to change these attitudes, to call in our fellow Jews to think critically about the ways we interact with race as a community? If we had these conversations, if we took more actions against anti-Blackness, would there have been room for Jessica Krug to act the way she did?
Torah teaches us that we are all each other’s responsibility, that we as a community hold ourselves and each other accountable, that “if [anyone] is in a position to protest the sinful conduct of the whole world, and [they fail] to do so, [they are] apprehended for the sins of the whole world” (Shabbat 54b). Revolutionary ideology teaches us that we keep us safe by holding ourselves and each other accountable. Revolution and Torah both urge us to look at the goodness in the world and say “it is not enough” and push forward to something better. I see parallels here that uplift me, as a Jew and as a revolutionary. But in our community I see failure to hold each other accountable, failure to question the basis of our assumptions on race, privilege, and oppression. Failure to atone for transgressions within our communities and transgressions by our communities.
What could our atonement look like? What does community accountability look like? I have so many questions, and so few solutions. I’m not sure that I, as a white Jew, should be the one to offer these solutions. Should we not be following and listening to the wishes of Black Jews and other Jews of Color in regards to how we can perform communal teshuvah for the actions taken against them both within our synagogues and within our larger communities?
Despite the fact that I have mostly questions, I want to challenge you, and myself, to regard these questions as an opportunity to dream, just as we use conversations in the United States on policing as an opportunity to dream of a world where police do not exist. I want to dream into existence a world where community accountability is reparative, ubiquitous, and loving. The synagogue where I sing in choir challenged its members to think about their assumptions of what a Jew looks like, then asked for a community sit-down to reexamine their relationship with the local police precinct. Another synagogue I occasionally attend has a working group dedicated to racial justice work, introducing anti-racism to the synagogue as an organization, but also seeking anti-racist resources for Torah reading and Jewish education courses. I want to see more synagogues integrate active anti-racism within all their programming, beyond these rudimentary steps; these conversations are difficult, and they will not get easier, but neither can we ignore their necessity. If our synagogues and other community organizations not only create spaces for talking about race, but bring the discussion on race and and racial justice front and center, perhaps we can create the educational environment that would have prevented Jessica Krug from ever seeing her blackface as acceptable.
If there is any message to take forward from these questions, I ask only that we work harder. That we open spaces for harm repair, whatever that may look like in different areas and for different communities. That we support local Black community organizations monetarily and through providing a platform to engage with us on community relationships. That we support Black Jews, and actively work to address any microaggressions that they experience within our communities. That we speak up and illustrate to our communities the harm that we have done knowingly and unknowingly, including condemning the actions of Jessic Krug. It is the latter that is the most difficult, but no less important. Reflection and conversation can help us recognize harm we have caused, but our responsibility is to atone—to recognize wrongs and seek repair— and be better, not to forgive or be forgiven. The harm that we, and our communities, have inflicted is not acceptable. And it never should be. It should have to get better, in fact, it needs to get better. I have faith that we can, and will, be better; that we can, and will, move forward condemning Krug’s actions and creating a community where this will never again happen, where we can support and uplift Black members of our communities, and persist in active anti-racist action in our communal teshuva.
