Delight in Zion
‘I cannot breathe’ – We are breathless
‘For the hurt of the daughter of my people I am hurt. I am mourning; astonishment has taken hold of me. Is there no balm in Gilead, is there no physician there? Why then is there no recovery for the health of the daughter of my people?’ – Jeremiah 8:21-22
The agonising murder of George Floyd in Minnesota USA crushed mercilessly by the knee of a police officer, with apparent help from three other officers, has reverberated around the world.
The video of his death, which I find too excruciating to watch, includes the victim’s last words: ‘I cannot breathe.’
What kind of man can ignore the cry of a fellow man desperate for breath? It is beyond any rational understanding. It was cold-blooded murder.
George Floyd, as we all know, was a black man, being crushed to death by a white police officer.
This was not an isolated incident. There have been several killings of black people in the US in recent weeks. But this evil murder of George Floyd was captured on video for everyone to see.
I have listened to, read, and watched the agony of many black people around the world, for whom this latest murder and the victim’s final words echo so powerfully. This needless killing seems to have tipped many people beyond their ability to endure murderous abuse anymore.
I am obviously not black. As some of you know, I am a Jewish believer in Jesus/Yeshua, currently living and serving in full-time ministry in Israel.
But I am the father of two young adult children in the UK, who, although they are mixed race, are deemed ‘black’ by the society they live in. And now I have a baby granddaughter too.
I owe a huge debt of gratitude to my black brothers and sisters. As a white Jewish man, I found faith and life within the black community that I grew to love and respect. I saw first-hand some of the obstacles they faced just because they were black.
I vividly remember one night in the early 80s when I was out on the streets of Hackney, London looking for a young girl who had run away from the children’s home where I worked. I happened to see some policemen verbally abusing a group of black people on the street.
Maybe things have changed since the 80s, or maybe not. But I remember thinking how easy it was for these policemen to abuse and demean this group of young black people, knowing there would be no comeback because the power was in their hands.
Rioting, even back then, was the inevitable uprising of people who found themselves frustrated, trodden down, unheard, and abused beyond human endurance.
Black believers in the Lord knew and felt the deep pain of their own community. It was these believers who showed me, a young Jewish man, love and acceptance.
My first pastor and spiritual father, Ira V. Brooks, a black Jamaican with a love for the Jewish people and a man of great wisdom and sensitivity, made sure that the church was not a silent bystander while the abuse of the black community spiralled out of control. He got involved. He embraced all sectors of the community. I remember his strong practical outreach to families who lost loved young people in a house fire in South London.
I often wonder whether the fact that I found myself as a young Jewish believer in the Lord being discipled by people who knew racist abuse all too well was God’s way of keeping me.
I was familiar with anti-Semitism from my childhood, when I was hit over the head with an iron bar simply because I was Jewish (some say this explains my sense of humour!). Maybe I found deep comfort and understanding from my black brothers and sisters because we shared the common experience of being hated just for who we were.
I have listened intently to the anguish of my black brethren in the UK who are despairing about what is happening in the US right now.
I posted on social media some words that Dr Martin Luther King Junior said back in the 1960s:
‘Darkness cannot drive out darkness; only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate; only love can do that.’
Martin Luther King’s words seemed much better than anything I could say or do.
But then I felt rebuked by my own seemingly lame response. I needed to write something myself.
I am still at the forefront of battling anti-Semitism wherever it rears its evil head!
During the 2019 UK election, I posted many messages about the appalling anti-Semitism in the British Labour Party. I appealed to my UK friends, many of whom are black and would naturally vote Labour, to consider the glaring anti-Semitism coming from its leader at the time, Jeremy Corbyn.
I asked the question more than once: How can anyone who says that the Jewish Jesus/Yeshua is their Lord and Saviour in all conscience vote for a political party that is under investigation for hatred of Israel and anti-Semitism?
Some UK people responded positively. One or two may have changed their voting intentions. But many more did not say anything! I felt sad and disappointed by the silence of many.
I am certain that racial hatred has no place in the Kingdom of God.
I am also certain that my black brothers and sisters, who I love and respect, should not have to endure the deep torment they experience every time a member of their community is murdered or abused.
The death of George Floyd tipped over a boiling pot of agony!
I feel that distress.
When George Floyd cried out ‘I cannot breathe,’ his words left us all breathless.
I am writing now to express my solidarity with the black community.
This virus of racial hatred in all its forms must be overcome. We must speak. We must act. We must pray.
In the Kingdom of God, we should bear each other’s burdens.
Let us stand together.
Shalom and love everyone.
