Last Friday night at Shabbat in the Park I snuck away from the crowd for five minutes to take Haley to the restroom. While a friend took her inside the girls’ room, I began to make small talk with another parent standing outside. She asked what our group was doing, as it looked like we were having a lot of fun. I explained that we were a synagogue group celebrating Shabbat. I got nothing but blank stares at the word “synagogue.” I explained that we were a “Jewish church.” At that sense of familiarity, she laughed and nodded.
Then, she added: “I am sorry that the police came and busted up your party.” Confused at what she could be even saying, I then thought for a moment and explained, “Oh, no. The police are here for our protection. We asked them to be there for us.” She gave me a confused look. Fortunately, Haley then came out of the bathroom. Moments later we wished each other all the best, and went our separate ways.
I’ve been replaying this conversation in my head for the past several days. It could almost begin like a bad joke: “a Jewish Rabbi and an African-American Woman meet up outside a park bathroom…” If there ever was a moment that exemplifies the chasm that Americans have in our lived experiences, this was it. Despite all that has transpired in our country over the past year, as a Jewish American living in the suburbs, it simply never dawned on me that a group of police officers would be there to “break up a party.” As a synagogue, we enjoy a warm relationship with our Cobb County police. They’ve done nothing but provide exceptional service for us in every way. I think of the officers we have developed relationships with over the years as a part of our family. Needless to say, three months after the George Floyd Verdict, I’ve been thinking about her remark.
It also seems to not have dawned on this person that a group of three-hundred Jews meeting outside in a public space to pray might need protection. As Jews, we can talk about the rise in anti-Semitic incidents that took place over the summer until the cows come home. What happened this summer to us in the wake of the attacks on Israel should have awakened the hearts of our friends and neighbors. But were people really paying attention? Synagogues assess security fees and day school entrances are hidden behind security barriers. I’m still not sure that the typical American truly understands what it is like to live as a Jew in America.
Whether in moments in the park, or in genuine dialogue, we have to do a better job creating opportunities to speak to each other. With COVID dividing us, the barrier remains as wide as ever. There’s still work to be done.
– Rabbi Dan Dorsch