Black Zionists

An accounting of the Jewish response to these incidents cannot be limited to the narrow confines of Commentary, where editor Norman Podhoretz and others wrote about the demise of the black and Jewish relationship. To be sure, many American Jews did indeed feel increasingly vulnerable, under attack, and unappreciated in the face of Black Power hyperbole. In this sense, Podhoretz’s sweeping broadsides, beginning with his landmark 1963 essay, “My Negro Problem -- And Ours,” did speak to a very real constituency with very real fears. Yet, unlike Podhoretz, a vast majority of American Jews maintained liberal views on a range of social justice issues.

Greenberg insists that the past few decades have “not really changed regular old Jews feelings about tikkun olam or equality or civil rights. But these Jews and blacks do not have the megaphone, in part, because their message does not make the news. ‘Black People Like Jews’ -- that is not a headline,” she says, laughing.

Most black Zionists uniformly dismiss the turn toward radicalism in the late ‘60s as a regrettable deviation, attributable in large part to the egregious failings of leadership in the black community. “Jesse [Jackson] had the microphone, not the black church leaders,” Pastor Glenn Plummer says in a bitter tone. “And there was an impression that he, and Farrakhan, and Al [Sharpton] spoke for black America when in fact they weren’t. I have been around a lot of black Christian leaders, and I am a firm believer that there is a deeply felt love for Israel but the Jewish people do not know it because black people have not articulated it as clearly as needed.” 

Plummer spares some of his harshest criticism for Jesse Jackson, arguing that unlike Farrakhan, he “has no excuse because he was birthed out of the civil rights movement.” He claimed to “speak for most African Americans, and was virtually unchallenged in that regard by most of black leadership, that is what really began to cause a deterioration. It came not from black people by in large, but from Jewish people because they felt betrayed.” 

One brisk Sunday I visit the predominantly African American Corinth Baptist Church in Capitol Heights, Maryland. The church sits tucked away at the end of a quiet street in a residential neighborhood, a modest-sized, well-maintained and painted light pink building. The parking lot showcases a decidedly middle to upper middle class array of vehicles, several of which pull into the lot blasting gospel music. 

The windows are covered in a red plastic that bathes the interior of the chapel in a gauzy rose-tinged incandescence. The chairs too are red. Above the altar hang two giant banners adorned with gilded lettering. One reads: “Hallelujah to the Lamb of God.” The other: “King of Kings.”

As the all-male choir warms up, I am greeted by Reverend Almond Dickens, immaculate in his well-tailored suit, a high shine on his black shoes. Dickens is the chief administrator of the church. His brother, the Reverend Roosevelt Dickens, is the head pastor.

“Jewish people and black people have always had an interwoven link and remarkable ties,” Roosevelt Dickens tells me as he picks away at a plate of spaghetti and a hot dog. We are sitting in his cramped office located just off the main sanctuary. At one point he excitedly presents me with his 2005 membership card to the World Jewish Congress. 

When I ask the brothers Dickens about their passion for Israel, Pastor Al points to the Bible on the desk. “The words in there will never change,” he explains. And in its pages, he continues, it clearly says that those who bless God’s chosen people will be blessed. “God has always taken care of his people. The Jewish people have always been blessed. When I stand with them I am hoping that some of that blessing is reflected onto me.” As Pastor Al talks, his brother spontaneously interjects with creative variations on the theme of “praise the Lord” and “Amen.”

For the Dickens brothers -- and biblical literalists in general -- the ancient past exists on a parallel track with the present. Decades, centuries, epochs are effortlessly condensed into months, weeks, days, even sentences. Casual conversations are peppered with the grandest historical, mythological, and religious allusions. In this respect they differ not at all from the primarily white evangelicals who are a famously pro-Israel constituency. 

“We are concerned about how Israel is giving up more and more land and what this means for the coming of the Last Days,” Pastor Roosevelt tells me. The Last Days, according to Pastor Roosevelt, will occur when the Jewish Temple in Jerusalem is rebuilt on its historic plot. He supports his contention with various passages of scripture and an abstract argument involving numerology. Every point he makes is prefaced with “I have done a lot of research.” The bottom line seems to be that the “Millennial Period” will soon be upon us.