Down In the Land of Cotton
April 9th, 2010
Rabbi Gary S. Creditor
Being Brooklyn born and bred, birthplace of my parents and brother, the ultimate destination of my immigrant grandparents, and thus my being a die-hard fan of the Brooklyn Dodgers, I am nevertheless a Yankee. My orientation is north of the Mason-Dixon Line. I learned history from the northern perspective. Moving to Richmond was much more than a geographical change. I also learned what my history books and the Life Magazine series of the 1960's called "The Civil War" was referred to here as "The War of Northern Aggression," – "which was none too civil." On first blush it sounded humorous, but I quickly realized how serious this was to those born in the south.
While I have not been interested in the battlefields in the greater Richmond vicinity, the history of that era is clearly inescapable. Whether it is the White House of the Confederacy, the Tredegar Iron Works, the monuments of Stuart, Lee, Jefferson, Jackson, and Maury in a row and others that dot the landscape, the very name "Richmond" is enough to evoke the great conflagration that nearly devoured this nation. One doesn't need a month dedicated to it to know where we live and the history of our area.
There is much that every American throughout every corner of this country needs to learn about The Civil War. It is a crucial element in our history. There was clearly a different conception of this country's nature, some that still echo very strongly today. Is power inherent in the separate parts of the corporate body, namely the states, or is it located in a strong central body, the national legislature, the Congress? It influences the debate on health care, on abortion, labor issues, environment, taxes and transportation. There was a different culture and temperament in this country, between a still agrarian society and more mechanized work place. In an era before mass migrations, except towards the west, societies maintained their inherent structure, and it was very different north and south.
When I think of the Civil War I am in awe of the passion evinced on both sides of the fight. I am amazed at the numbers of men who died and were maimed fighting for what they believed in. I visited the hospital at Chimborazo on Church Hill and saw the implements of the medical trade in that time. Some of the Life Magazine articles focused on the hardships of being a soldier in either army. I shake my head in admiration of their courage. I think of the great battles of Gettysburg and Petersburg, and the nickname "Stonewall" for General Jackson. Later generations of American soldiers would emulate that title in the wars of the 20th century. There was great military skill by Robert E. Lee, Ulysses S. Grant, the men who created the CSS Virginia out of the Merrimack and those who invented the Monitor and went to their deaths when it sank off of the Carolinas. They would be the inspiration of the men and women in the army, air force, navy and marines that still fight to defend us and democracy. One must never forget this chapter of American history, never trivialize it, denigrate it, or belittle it. As long as this country exists, it will be part of the fiber of the American soul. It should not be seen as only Confederate history. It is American history. Whether we are born north, south, east or west, whether we are with long ancestry or are "just" the third or forth generation, this is our history. But there is another indisputable component of this history. That of slavery.
We have just concluded Pesach. Reading the Hagaddah at Seder night, the shortest version of the story, or reading the extended narrative in the Book of Exodus, I have often commented that these are "the sanitized versions." In neither edition do we see the blood and gore, we don't hear the screams, we don't feel the lash of the whip, we don't cringe with fear, we don't pant in thirst and hunger, and we don't shiver in the cold of night nor sweat in the heat of an Egyptian sun. Our male children are not ripped from arms, we don't hide them in the reeds, and we don't despair of life itself. But we do repeat, generation after generation, that we are supposed to see ourselves as if we were there. So we dip greens and eat salt water. Twice we are supposed to eat bitter herbs and not in the dainty quantity to avoid the pain. The traditional minimum far exceeds our usual dosage. It is supposed to burn. It is supposed to hurt. That way we have some inkling, some faint imagination, of what it was to be a slave to Pharaoh in Egypt.
For that reason Torah forbids slavery. The language of the Torah is misused. The laws of Torah never permit us to do to others as was done to us. From the enslavement in Egypt we learned compassion, humility, humanity and dignity. The evil of Egypt, the salvation by our God, the resistance of the Israelites, the courage of the women, the stamina of the men are invoked daily in our liturgy and is the cornerstone of Shabbat observance. Shabbat is the perpetual and eternal memorial.
When I think of the Civil War, I think of Egypt. I think of the worst of man. Everything I think of the Egyptian slavery of the Israelites, every allusion to pain, horror and suffering that I read between the words of the Torah and of the Haggadah, I infer, I inter, I posit to be the slavery in America of the 1800's predominantly in the South. I can't understand how one human being whips another, how women and children are treated like chattel, how people are 'owned,' bought and sold like cattle. With family such an elemental component in Judaism, I can't fathom how children and parents are separated never to know their ultimate disposition nor see each other ever again.
It is not an issue of my naïveté. It is an issue of my humanity.
It is the contrast of what my Judaism teaches me to be,
As I watch humanity betraying its name.
And further: If any religion was to be born of Judaism, they needed to learn the lesson of love from our Book of Leviticus, "love they neighbor as thyself." I cannot comprehend how "The City of Churches" – Richmond, could be the home of Lumpkin's Jail. They are the diametric opposites. There is an eternal inconsistency between the two. How can you quote from Genesis that "Man" – it doesn't state the color – maybe they were transparent – "Is created in the image of God" upon on the Hill and then treat "Man" as less than an animal in "The Bottom?" That is part of the story, too.
I don't seek to answer any of these questions nor answer any of my quandaries. Maybe there are no answers. Just like to the Holocaust. We put together words, but they are still not answers.
I cite all this because how wrong and terrible it was for the governor's proclamation, far beyond the omission of reference to slavery. That is just "the straw that breaks the camel's back." True justice to the heroes and the heroines, the victors and the vanquished, true homage to the gallant and the glorious is only to be achieved through a deep, perceptive, embracing, honest, and complete learning by adult and youth of the American story. It is equally to clear to the simplest of eyes, that there is still much to be learned from the Civil War. We are not yet the best that we can be. The promise of America is for many, only a promise and far from being fulfilled.
Shame on the governor for whatever reason, haste, dispatch or inattentiveness to detail! From the House on the Hill, we demand better. Rescind the proclamation. Don't just emend it. Let it embody complete learning of the historical record; the yearning for real equality; the desire for America to fulfill its ultimate destiny. Let it show respect and honor to everyone, Confederate and Union, black and white. We will be made stronger by its truth.
Shabbat Shalom.
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