All Lives Matter
Yom Kippur Morning 5776/2015
Rabbi Rachel Goldenberg
In the Midrash, our rabbis bring a teaching on a case of the
court-ordered punishment of flogging:
Two men go to court, and one is determined to be guilty.
The Torah says[1],
If the guilty one is to be flogged,
the magistrate shall have him lie down and be given lashes in his presence, by
count, as his guilt warrants. He may be given up to forty lashes, but not more,
lest being flogged further, to excess, your brother be degraded
before your eyes.
The Midrash teaches[2],
From the moment he is flogged, he is your
brother.
From this it was said, “all who are
liable for excommunication and are flogged immediately are exempted from
excommunication.” Rabbi Chananya ben Gamliel said, “all day, the text calls him
‘wicked,’ . . . . but from the time that he is flogged, the text
calls him ‘your brother’. . . .”
According to our tradition, trom the moment the punishment is
brought against a guilty person, he is no longer called “wicked”; he is called
“your brother.”
And this punishment takes place before our eyes, so that we
can be sure that the number of lashes accords with the count that his guilt
warrants, and no more.
In her book,
“The New Jim Crow,” Ohio State law professor and civil rights advocate Michele
Alexander shares innumerable stories and studies, about the War on Drugs and
mass incarceration, especially of African American men. Our country’s enormous
incarceration system, and its injustices, are largely hidden from our view. It
is hard for us to even know what the magistrates are doing, as our systems of
justice and punishment are not carried out as described in the Torah: before
our eyes.
But in the
haftarah this morning, Isaiah reminds us that today is a day for scrutiny – of
ourselves and of the society we are building. The fast that God expects from us
today is one that forces us to face the stories we would rather not hear.
Alexander
argues, based on enormous amounts of research, that the current War on Drugs,
including mandatory minimum sentences, and many other aspects of the criminal
justice system comprise a new manifestation of a racist system of control. This system began with slavery, morphed into
Jim Crow, and now uses the justice system to severely limit and control the
lives of a huge proportion of Black people in this country.
Alexander tells
the social history of how from slavery, through Jim Crow, to today, Black men
have been presumed to be criminals. Today, they are swept up into the criminal
justice system in huge numbers, the system pressures the accused – and often
the innocent – to plead guilty to lesser charges. They are then left with a
record of arrests, jail time, and the label of “felon” for the rest of their
lives.
This label of
“felon” then releases the rest of society from any responsibility for a
person’s future welfare. He is forever known as “wicked.” He is no longer our “brother.”
Here are just
two stories from Alexander’s book[3]:
Imagine you are Emma Faye Stewart, a 30-year-old, single African
American mother of two who was arrested as part of a drug sweep in Hearne,
Texas. All but one of the people arrested were African American. You are
innocent. After a week in jail, you have no one to care for your two small
children and are eager to get home. Your court-appointed attorney urges you to
plead guilty to a drug distribution charge, saying the prosecutor has offered
probation. You refuse, steadfastly proclaiming your innocence. Finally, after a
month in jail, you decide to plead guilty so you can return home to your
children. Unwilling to risk a trial and years of imprisonment, you are
sentenced to ten years probation and ordered to pay $1000 in fines, as well as
court and probation costs. You are also now branded as a drug felon. You are no
longer eligible for food stamps; you may be discriminated against in
employment; you cannot vote for at least 12 years; and you are about to be
evicted from public housing. Once homeless, your children will be taken from
you and put in foster care.
A judge eventually dismisses all cases against the defendants who
did not plead guilty. At trial, the judge finds that the entire sweep was based
on the testimony of a single informant who lied to the prosecution. You,
however, are still a drug felon, homeless, and desperate to regain custody of
your children.
Now place yourself in the shoes of Clifford Runoalds, another
African American victim of the Hearne drug bust. You returned home to Bryan
Texas to attend the funeral of your 18-month-old daughter. Before the funeral
services begin, the police show up and handcuff you. You beg the officers to
let you take one last look at your daughter before she is buried. The police
refuse. You are told by the prosecutors that you are needed to testify against
one of the defendants in a recent drug bust. You deny witnessing any drug
transaction; you don’t know what they are talking about. Because of your
refusal to cooperate, you are indicted on felony charges. After a month of
being held in jail, the charges against you are dropped. You are technically
free, but as a result of your arrest and period of incarceration , you lose
your job, your apartment, your furniture, and your car. Not to mention the
chance to say good-bye to your baby girl.
According to
Alexander, these “brutal stories. . .
are not isolated incidents, nor are the racial identities of Emma. .
. and Clifford . . . random or
accidental. In every state across our nation, African Americans –particularly
in the poorest neighborhoods—are subjected to tactics and practices that would
result in public outrage and scandal if committed in middle-class white
neighborhoods. . . .”[4]
“Where is your
brother” – God asks Cain.
“Am I my
brother’s keeper?” is his response.
And the Torah
reminds us, “You shall not remain indifferent.”
Here are just a
few statistics[5]:
·
When the War on Drugs gained full
steam in the mid-80’s, drug related prison admissions for Blacks nearly
quadrupled in three years, and then increased steadily until in 2000, it
reached a level more than 26 times the level in 1983.
·
Today, in at least 15 states, blacks
are admitted to prison on drug charges at a rate from 20 to 57 times greater
than that of white men.
·
These are the numbers, despite the
fact that the vast majority of illegal drug users and dealers nationwide are
white.
·
Incarceration rates continue to
climb in all communities – even though violent crime rates are at historic
lows.
·
Overall, one in every 14 black men
was behind bars in 2006 compared with one in 106 white men. And for black men
between the ages of 20 and 35 the rate skyrockets to one in nine.
In the book of
Deuteronomy[6],
we read,
“Tzedek, tzedek
tirdof,”
“Justice,
justice you shall pursue.”
The
commentators ask why the word “tzedek,” or “justice” is repeated twice.
One answer they
give is that just ends can only be achieved through just means[7].
The means: our
system of law enforcement, how we enter a plea of guilt or innocence, the way
we populate juries, how we sentence people, the punishments themselves, and
what happens afterwards. The means must be just in order for us to call what we
are doing, “tzedek,”– “justice.”
Another story –
this time from the Washington Post[8]:
In February
2010, Louis Sawyer, a 49-year-old Black man, was released from federal prison
in Pennsylvania after spending more than half of his life behind bars for
murder. Authorities rejected his
plan to live with family, who could support him while he looked for work.
Sawyer was left to return to Washington, D.C., where he had no home, no job
prospects and no family. A blizzard had hobbled the mid-Atlantic, and Sawyer
called Hope Village, his appointed halfway house, to ask if he could delay the
trip. Permission denied. If he wasn't there by midnight, he'd be considered an
escapee.
Sawyer checked in and entered the kitchen-less, two-bedroom
apartment he'd share with up to seven roommates. He had four months to find a
job and permanent housing. If he failed, he could be evicted and end up
homeless.
Louis began signing up for classes. One taught him about the
internet, which he had never encountered. Hope Village threw up obstacles,
though: the computer lab was reserved for a GED course, not job searches, and
cellphones and laptops were not allowed.
Another training program rejected him because there was a
nursery school in the building where it met, even though his offense had
occurred 25 years ago and had nothing to do with children.
His job applications were rejected, one after another,
because he had to check “the box” indicating he had a criminal record. He went
to city jobs fairs, though he soon learned that most of the organizations
represented there did not hire returning citizens. Ultimately he was accepted
into a transitional home and eventually did land a part-time job,
more than 6 months after leaving prison, through a contact made a church. Today
he works as a peer advocate for people recently released from prison.
Mass
incarceration has enormous consequences, not only when a person is in prison,
but even more so when they are released. Nationwide over 46,000 statutes impose
consequences on people convicted of crimes. Many states bar people with felony
convictions from jobs that require licenses – including nursing, hair dressing
and plumbing. Many employers are reluctant to hire people with criminal
records, reducing the likelihood of job callback or offer by around 50%.
When citizens
return from prison, if they are able to find a job, they rarely earn a living
wage, perpetuating the cycle of poverty and incarceration. And this doesn’t
just affect those who served time; simply having an arrest record can affect an
employer’s decision.
Louis is an exceptional example - he doesn’t drink or use
drugs, he was able to develop marketable skills while in prison, and he is
healthy. Many other returning citizens have minimal education and are also
struggling with addictions and mental health issues, creating even more
obstacles.
Our brothers’
voices cry out to us.
Shall we remain
indifferent?
How can it be that in our country, the only jobs that will
hire returning citizens are those related to helping other returning prisoners.
The Midrash I opened with says, “all who are liable for
excommunication and are flogged immediately are exempted from
excommunication.”
How can it be that our society does the bare minimum, if
that, to help our brothers reintegrate and become contributing members of the
community.
This afternoon, we will read in the book of Leviticus that we
are commanded to have accurate and honest scales, weights and measures. The
word used for “accurate” or “honest” is again this word, “tzedek” or “just.”
A holy society is based on a justly calibrated
system of scales, weights and measures.
The Torah doesn’t use this word “tzedek” by accident. I think these
verses are teaching us that if our system of tzedek is out of whack – if the
scales and systems of justice are not calibrated correctly – we will end up
doing acts of great injustice.
Let me be clear – I am not laying the blame here on any one
person or group of people or facet of our justice system. I don’t believe that
all of our police are corrupt or are out on the streets purposefully looking
for Black men to arrest. But I do believe that the scales – the system –has
been calibrated - and Michele Alexander
argues – purposefully calibrated –in a way that incentivizes and
rewards unjust and racist practices that have unjust and racist results.
The system has been calibrated such that the prisoner is no longer
considered our brother.
It is calibrated such that not enough weight is given to
elements of compassion such as rehabilitation, mental health and addiction
services, housing, and real support for finding employment after release from
prison.
The system has been calibrated such that outrageous numbers
of African Americans –shockingly disproportionate to their population and the
crime rates in their communities – are under correctional control today.
One result of this distorted system is that “more African
American adults are under correctional control today – in prison or jail, on
probation or parole – than were enslaved in 1850, a decade before the Civil War
began.”[9]
One result is that “more [black men] are disenfranchised
today than in 1870, the year the Fifteenth Amendment was ratified prohibiting
laws that explicitly deny the right to vote on the basis of race.”[10]
One result is that “Young black men today may be just as
likely to suffer discrimination in employment, housing, public benefits, and
jury service as a black man in the Jim Crow era – discrimination that is
perfectly legal, because it is based on one’s criminal record.”[11]
When we break our fast today, there are a number of actions
we can take.
One is to learn more –every American of conscience should read
Michele Alexander’s book The New Jim Crow, and I hope to create an
opportunity to discuss it as a congregation this year.
We can also thank our state lawmakers and our governor for recently
passing Second Chance Society legislation. These laws reduce sentences for
non-violent offences, abolish mandatory minimum sentences for drug possession,
increase services to reintegrate non-violent offenders into society and work to
close the school-to-prison pipeline. We will have a chance to get involved when
it comes to implementing this legislation.
We can also be proud that multiple cities in CT have already
agreed to Ban the Box on employment applications – the box a person has to
check to indicate a prior conviction or felony – before even having a chance
for a job interview. However, this only applies to the public sector. Those of
us in the private sector and in the non-profit world should also refrain from excluding
a job applicant from consideration solely based on a past
conviction.
Our brothers
cry out to us,
And on this day
of self-scrutiny, we are called upon to ask ourselves, “What truly disturbs
us?” “Whom do we really care about?” “Whose lives really matter?”
In our Torah
portion this morning, when Moses reaffirms our sacred covenant, demanding that
we choose life, Moses addresses our entire nation – men and
women, children, strangers, from woodchoppers to water drawers.
Everyone is a part of this sacred covenantal system.
No one can say, “it is not my responsibility.”
Our sacred American covenantal system of justice, as it
is currently calibrated, is not just.
This should
disturb us.
It is our
responsibility.
And when we are
told to choose life, we should never be asking, “for whom?”
Because All
Lives Matter.
[1] Deut. 25:3
[2] Sifrei Ki Tetze 286
[3]
Michele Alexander, The New Jim Crow: Mass
Incarceration in the Age of Colorblindness, New York: 2012, p. 97-8.
[4]
Ibid. p. 98
[5] Ibid. p. 98-100
[6] Deut 16:20
[7] Simcha Bunem, quoted in Etz Hayyim commentary on Deut
16:20
[8]
http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2011/01/14/AR2011011405709.html
[10]
Ibid.
[11]
Ibid.
