As a Black Leader, I spoke up against antisemitism during the Super Bowl. Here is why...

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By?Clarence B. Jones

Feb 15, 2024

?Did you see me during the Super Bowl?

?That’s a question I never thought I’d ask. But there I was on your television screen Sunday night, my hair a little more askew than I’d realized.

?I spoke about something more pressing and profound than the latest touchdown. In the middle of the highest-rated telecast in history, I addressed the nation about antisemitism and all hate and the need to speak up against silence.

?The reaction stunned me. Even my adult children showered me with praise. Usually I get some version of, “We saw you, Dad. You did great, but … ”

?This time, there was no “but …”

?How did this this 93-year-old Black man living in Palo Alto come to speak out during the Super Bowl and impress his hard-to-impress offspring in the process? Well, that’s a long story …

?In the early 1960s, as a young attorney at the height of the Civil Rights movement, I was an advisor to Martin Luther King Jr. Those were heady, vital days. But we faced huge odds in our fight for the rights due to every human being. I remember one conversation with Dr. King like it was yesterday.

?“Martin, I love you and I think you’re fantastic but let’s get real,” I said. “There is no way that Black people, just 12% of the population, are going to get the other 88% of the population to do something it does not want to do.”

Martin took a moment to think it over before saying, “I agree with you, but that’s our challenge, we have to reach their consciousness.”

I became fixated on this idea. Every time we held a demonstration, I’d speak to the white folks who joined us. There were always some. I’d ask: “Why are you here with us?”

?I got the same response: “Well, Attorney Jones, I’m out here with you and Dr. King because that’s what my grandma and grandpa would want me to do.”

?I didn’t understand. What did their grandparents have to do with it? “Our grandparents died in the Holocaust,” they’d say, “so they can’t be here, but we know they’d want us to be.”

?It stunned me. And they said it so matter-of-factly. I knew well the history of the Holocaust, of Kristallnacht and other horrors, but the similarities of our different struggles had never been so obvious to me. Now they were.

?I remember telling Dr. King: “From 100 yards away, all white people might look alike, but I’m telling you, all white people are not alike. Those who self-identify as Jews, they are with us.”

?A few years later, Dr. King gave a speech in Washington we’d written together, telling the world, “I have a dream.”

Everyone remembers those words. But few remember the words of the man who addressed the crowd before him: Rabbi Joachim Prinz. He had fled Germany before the Holocaust.

He told the huge crowed that he’d learned many things in Hitler’s Germany. “The most urgent, the most disgraceful, the most shameful and the most tragic problem is silence.”

?Not too long ago, I became chairman of the board of a nonprofit organization called “Spill the Honey,” which seeks to strengthen the bonds of the Jewish and Black communities through culture, arts and dialogue. I jumped at this opportunity because I know these bonds to be strong, I knew it when I pestered those young Jewish demonstrators so many decades ago, but I also know they can be stronger.

The name is derived from the story of Eli Ayalon, whose mother gave him a cup of honey signifying hope before she was taken to a concentration camp. He survived; she did not.

Which brings us to Sunday night, and my unlikely appearance before 123.4 million viewers. When Robert Kraft, owner of the New England Patriots, asked if I wanted to appear on a spot for his organization, the Foundation to Combat Anti-Semitism, I once again jumped at it. I knew just by my presence, by my history and by the color of my skin, that I’d be doing my part to repay the untold number of Jews who, for decades, have supported my people’s cause.

Some Super Bowl viewers may have been surprised to see a Black man speaking out on behalf of Jews, because over the years tensions between these groups have tended to get more attention than partnerships. Although our struggles were similar, when we were crammed into the same neighborhoods, and when we fought similar but separate battles, friction inevitably arose. I’m involved with “Spill the Honey” to address that surprise.

?When white men march in Charlottesville chanting, “We won’t let Jews replace us,” I think:?Oh my God, this cannot be America.?I know others feel the same way. They know antisemitism is wrong, just as they know it’s wrong to discriminate against and abuse the LGBTQ community, or any other group. But too often they don’t speak up.

?Black people must speak up in the face of antisemitism. I cannot remain silent in the face of this. It would be a travesty. It would shred every thread of fiber in my body.

?Clarence B. Jones, author of?“Last of?the Lions,” ?was an adviser for Martin Luther King Jr., and is chair of the board of the?Spill the Honey Foundation . He lives in Palo Alto.