PHILADELPHIA — The meeting ran a little longer than anticipated, and even after it ended, many participants lingered in the conference room at the Jewish Federation of Greater Philadelphia.
They asked after one another's families and talked about a welcome rise in temperatures after a snowfall and several cold days. Jason Holtzman, director of the federation's Jewish Community Relations Council, offered sandwiches and cookies from the catered lunch for people to take home. Carl Day, pastor of Culture Changing Christians and a Black community organizer, offered goodbye hugs and handshakes.
No one seemed to be in a hurry to leave, and that was the point: Jewish and Christian, white and Black people were talking, laughing and enjoying one another's company after a session sharing their hopes, concerns and thoughts on how to make Philadelphia − and the world − better.
On a whiteboard, they'd written some very ambitious goals and brainstormed ideas: "violence prevention" and "anti-racism," along with "amplify Black voices," "support affordable housing for POC (people of color)" and "push for investment back into the community."
Philadelphia is not the only place where Black and Jewish groups are working to forge and strengthen alliances at a time fraught with racial and antisemitic incidents. Historic bonds are being built and rebuilt in cities across the U.S.
"The American experiences for the Black and Jewish communities are of people who were able to see opportunities for advancement while working and fighting for justice alongside each other," Day said.
In Philadelphia, the fortunes of Black and Jewish people converged, then diverged, Holtzman told USA TODAY.
In the years before and during World War II, Jewish immigrants fleeing European antisemitism and shunned elsewhere in the U.S. were welcomed into Black neighborhoods. Professionals and intellectuals, unable to find work in prestigious, white-dominated institutions, were hired at historically Black colleges and universities (HBCUs).
Jewish people were among the NAACP's founders and were some of the strongest allies for Black people during the Civil Rights era, well represented among the Freedom Riders and marchers advocating for voting rights and racial integration.
But as disinvestment and white flight took hold in Philadelphia's working class-neighborhoods, many Jewish people moved out of the city and into suburban towns. Black people were left behind, confined by housing discrimination in the suburbs, their children stuck in failing schools and their neighborhoods neglected and left to deteriorate.
"The history is very rich, and it's been a two-way street in my opinion," Holtzman said. "It was always the two communities standing together, and that's the spirit we want to get back into."
Day, whose congregation is based in North Philadelphia and Kensington, two neighborhoods that struggle with gun violence, poverty and drug activity, agreed. "There was passion on both sides while facing the potential for violence. There was a monumental level of hatred directed at both communities," he said.
But while Jewish people's fortunes rose, in part because it was easier for them to integrate into white society, Holtzman said, that wasn't always the case for Black people.
"As there's advancement and success, there's also responsibility," Day said. "You get lost in your own responsibilities, whether you're a business owner or a landlord. And then you begin to pay less attention to others' plight."
There are similar dynamics at play in Cleveland, home to Rekindle Fellowship, and in Detroit, home to the Coalition for Black and Jewish Unity.
Charmaine Rice, who co-founded Rekindle Fellowship with Matt Fieldman in 2021, is the daughter of a serviceman who lived in Germany for part of her childhood. It wasn't until her father was transferred Stateside − to Biloxi, Mississippi − that she heard the "n" word.
When she moved to Cleveland, she said, she was struck by how racially segregated the city is. She met Fieldman through his wife, and on a Shabbat visit to their home, was impressed by how welcoming they were, how kindly and patiently they answered her mother-in-law's questions about their faith and culture. She and Fieldman looked for groups that fostered relationships between Black and Jewish people, and, finding none, started their own.
In Detroit, Rabbi Asher Lopatin of the Coalition for Black and Jewish Unity described a place where "everyone gets along well," but acknowledged, "I can't say there are the best relationships."
"You really in many ways have two communities that are very separated," he said.
"We're better together," said Holtzman, who believes Jewish and Black Americans can form a powerful bloc to advocate for the changes that will benefit them both.
"It’s 2024, an election year, and racism and antisemitism have risen to high levels," he said. "We're seeing all these conspiracy theories and people being misinformed. The Black community (in Philadelphia) is dealing with gun violence and poverty.
"We want to stand up for each other. Often, the same people who attack Jewish people are the ones who attack Black people."
The 16-person cohort he and Day lead meets monthly for formal discussions, but also informally for meals, comparative religious study and small get-togethers. They're planning trips to Civil Rights landmarks, the Smithsonian Museum of African American History and Culture and the U.S. Holocaust Museum, Philadelphia City Council meetings, and even a trip to Israel.
"In America, we like to say history is repeating itself, but the truth is nothing ever really changed," Day said. "A lot of the politics over the last four to eight years, the veil of racism has come off. So we wanted to say, it's time for us to create bridges, a table where we all can come together. Our mission is to enhance each other's work and get a greater understanding of each other's plight."
That extends to difficult topics such as the war between Israel and Hamas.
Lopatin, the Detroit rabbi, said that since the Oct. 7 Hamas attacks and the war it sparked, "we've spoken about Israel, not always agreeing, but feeling the support."
Michigan has a substantial Arab American and Muslim American community, and Lopatin said he's worked with them, admitting, "It's been more challenging since Oct. 7."
"I would say everyone here gets along, but separately," he said. "There's not a lot of tension, and I've gone to Dearborn (where, the Detroit Free Press recently reported, a majority of residents are of Arab ancestry), even into a Yemeni cafe, and felt safe and welcome as a Jewish person."
The challenge, he said, "is going beyond just getting along with each other and working together to make the city better for everyone."
The coalition launched a leadership academy for Black and Jewish high school students, has taken trips to Civil Rights landmarks in the South and the Holocaust and African American Museums in Washington, D.C., aided in refugee resettlements and lobbied state lawmakers for a safe driving bill for undocumented immigrants to get drivers licenses.
Fieldman, a self-described "white Jewish kid" who grew up in Florida, said when he learned about the civil rights struggles of the 1950s and '60s, "it was a real point of pride in the Jewish community that we worked with Martin Luther King Jr.
"But we were taught that the good guys won and everyone could go home," he said. "As I got older, I realized that wasn't true."
After moving to Cleveland 17 years ago, he saw two very different communities, Black and Jewish, "working parallel but not in partnership." He and Charmaine Rice set out to change that.
Today, Rekindle offers 15 hours of workshops and discussions that are meant to lead to action. In the wake of the murder of George Floyd in 2020, Fieldman said, Black people told him, "We're tired of talking about being Black," and they wanted actions to back up well-intentioned discussions. Rekindle's teams select projects they can pursue together, such as criminal justice reform and voter registration drives. There are fun activities, too, such as a combined celebration of Christmas, Hanukkah and Kwanzaa.
The nonprofit's curriculum is free to any group that wants to launch its own fellowship.
"Jewish folks felt like they did what they had to do, but there's more to be done," Fieldman said. "Allyship can't be transactional; it has to be about relationships, rather than just talking about something that happened 60 or 70 years ago that our grandparents did."
"The goal is to talk things through and try to come to an understanding of each other," Rice said. "We remind people to be open to all the kernels of truth in each person's story, to come to one another with respect and engage in meaningful dialogue, to build connections where we can feel each other's hearts."
Contact Phaedra Trethan by email at [email protected], on X (formerly Twitter) @wordsbyphaedra, or on Threads @by_phaedra.