O pinion
What I Learned When I Sat Down With a Repentant White Supremacist
RABBI AVRAM MLOTEK
BEFORE I MET HIM, I saw
Benjamin McDowell’s name in
the news. Inspired by Dylan
Roof, the notorious shooter
responsible for the Charleston
church massacre, he planned
an attack on a synagogue that
was thwarted by FBI agents.

No lives were lost. No
lasting physical harm was
done, though the synagogue
members certainly felt threat-
ened and terrified. I read the
news item online and, though
I didn’t yet know the word,
doomscrolled onward.

I probably wouldn’t have
thought much about McDowell
again had I not seen a video
of him in my Facebook feed
three years later. Rabba Karpov,
the rabbi of Jewish Center of
Indian Country, Oklahoma,
had posted a YouTube video
uploaded by McDowell in
which he expressed remorse for
his past behavior. (The video
has since been removed, though
I don’t know why or by whom.)
I watched the video and was
genuinely moved. Something
had happened to Benji while in
prison. Here he was, talking about
the power of love and light to
transcend differences, political
and religious, and how we were all
part of one larger human family.

How many of us have undergone
such a profound, public trans-
formation from deadly darkness
to hope? How many ex-white
supremacists are out there seeking
to amend their past ways?
A few nights before I had
watched the film “Burden,”
which tells the true story of
how a Black minister, Rev.

Kennedy, welcomed a former
KKK member, Mike Burden,
into his home and changed his
life forever. Inspired by this
radical act of loving kindness
on the reverend’s part, I felt
compelled to act on the video
of McDowell. I reached out to
him directly on Facebook.

Even though I have invited
anti-Semites into my home
before, I generally believe it is
not the Jewish people’s respon-
sibility to combat anti-Semitism
— in the same way that it is
not Black people’s responsibility
to dismantle systemic racism.

Racism, sexism, anti-Semitism
and xenophobia are prejudices
that plague society, and we as a
nation bear a communal respon-
sibility toward eradicating them.

But a communal respon-
sibility is fulfilled through
countless individual acts. And
I knew that encounters with
people from such a polar opposite
outlook can be sacred and poten-
tially profoundly impactful.

After some texting and
a phone call, I invited Benji
onto my show, “A Rabbi and
a — Walk Into a Zoom.” I’ve
hosted priests, Holocaust survi-
vors, doctors, musicians, actors
— even President Barack
Obama’s speechwriter — but
never before a repentant white
supremacist. And so, we had
our event’s name: “A Rabbi and
a Former White Supremacist
Walk Into a Zoom.”
He described meeting with
an undercover FBI agent who
was ready to sell him weapons to
use against the Jewish commu-
nity. The FBI had tracked his
hateful rhetoric online and
sought to see just how close this
one blogger was to bringing his
online musings into fruition.

What struck me most
during our conversation —
which took place on Sept. 14,
right before Rosh Hashanah —
was the dissonance McDowell
described between his online
and real-life experiences.

Online, he was being incul-
cated with and reflecting back
an ideology centered on the
idea that Black people and Jews
are destroying society. But he
said that even when he was
writing hateful messages about
Black people online, he always
treated them fairly when he
encountered them in real life.

“And Jews?” I asked.

He had never met a Jew
before. Our conversation, he
said, was the first time he had
knowingly spoken to a Jew.

The rabbis of the Talmud
wrote of the spiritual potency
of teshuvah, a genuine return
to the self, heartfelt repentance.

They wrote that teshuvah has the
power to transform intentional
sins into meritorious deeds.

A preposterous sentiment, I
used to think. However, when
speaking with Benji, I saw how
teshuvah indeed could be seen
this way.

His intentional hateful
acts had brought him to this
meritorious place of seeking
out reconciliation.

Though our country is
engulfed in national turmoil,
and we are each convinced of
our own political righteous-
ness, McDowell said he was
undergoing a personal transfor-
mation. (He told me he doesn’t
follow the news much because
its toxic nature isn’t the most
conducive to his emotional
recovery, as he puts it.)
How many of us have given up
on Fox News viewers, or MSNBC
viewers, because they are dead
set in their ways? How many of
us refuse to engage with someone
who says “All Lives Matter” or
“Black Lives Matter” because we
are so disgusted by the senti-
ments we think are motivating
them? If Benji has taught me
anything, it is to never believe
the lie that we are conditioned
to believe: that people cannot
change. People can.

It is ironic that I encoun-
tered Benji through Facebook,
a social media giant that is
often under criticism for
fueling misinformation and
polarization. I myself experi-
enced Facebook’s mishandling
of hate speech when its moder-
ators removed a post I wrote
about being assaulted by
Farrakhan supporters on a
subway car.

Yet the platform, for all of its
flaws, permitted Benji and me
to connect. But as Benji himself
puts it, it was also the echo
chamber of the online groups
he found that fueled his toxic
thinking. If Facebook chose to
actively combat misinformation
and hate speech, who knows
how many Benjis would be
steered away from falsehoods?
Facebook’s new policy banning
Holocaust denial on its platform
is a welcome change that comes
several years too late.

In the age of COVID-19,
we are online more than ever.

For me, Benji’s story serves
as a cautionary tale about the
pitfalls of echo chambers, a
reminder to Facebook of the
heavy burden they now carry
as a connector of people.

But may we also remember
that there are people behind the
profiles. Real human beings with
emotional range and capacity.

Let us never lose sight of each
other’s humanity, no matter how
deeply we doomscroll. l
Rabbi Avram Mlotek is a founder
of Base Hillel, a home focused
rabbinic ministry in 10 cities
worldwide. He is the author of “Why
Jews Do That or 30 Questions Your
Rabbi Never Answered.” This piece
originally appeared in JTA.org.

A Day in the Life of a COVID-19 Front-Line Worker
BY ESTHER LAPIN
THE LAST FEW months, in
the depths of the pandemic, I
have been extremely quiet about
my role as a COVID-19 front-
line respiratory therapist. I was
concerned that people would
be uncomfortable around me
given my close proximity to the
18 NOVEMBER 5, 2020
plague. “Do you work directly
with COVID patients?” they
might ask while cautiously
retreating backwards tight-
ening their masks.

I am caught between feeling
proud of my work with virus
patients and feeling like I am
the virus itself. I reclaim my
dignity as I respond, “Yes, I
JEWISH EXPONENT
am a respiratory therapist, and
it is my job to be there for
these patients.” I don’t get to
choose which patients I take
care of — COVID or not, they
are my patients and I am a
very vital part in keeping them
alive. Why shouldn’t I be proud
of that?
Although respiratory thera-
pists have their busy, intense
and overwhelming season
during winters when respi-
ratory illnesses are at their
highest, even those paled in
comparison to the emotional
and mental strain I experi-
enced while working during
this pandemic.

What follows is a description
JEWISHEXPONENT.COM



O pinion
of a typical day during COVID.

Walking into work, I take
a few big deep breaths. I know
it’s going to be an emotion-
ally draining and hectic day.

I pick up my assignment. I’m
in the COVID-19 unit again
for the third day in a row. I
rush to pick up all my personal
protective equipment — a pair
of specific COVID-unit scrubs,
full face mask and head and
shoe coverings. I’m ready.

I march to the wards.

Although I have been working
here for a time, everything
looks unfamiliar. The rooms
are veiled with ominous
signs and hazard warnings.

“Enhanced Respiratory
Precautions,” the signs read.

Intravenous line poles running
between the patient and a point
outside their door are held up
so as to not touch the floor.

Continuous oxygen saturation
monitors are outside every
doorway. To an oblivious visitor it
might appear like a movie set
from the frontlines in World
War II, but for me it is real,
dangerous, urgent and critical.

At any other time I would fear to
cross this barrier, but today it is
my job — I have no choice but to
rush to the patients like a soldier
running into battle. Taking a
deep breath, I start my rounds.

To limit exposure for
safety reasons, only one RT
is allowed in a room at any
given time. If there is a code,
an emergency intubation or a
procedure typically requiring
at least two RTs, it must now
be performed by one. There
is limited support, backup or
aids, which compounds the
stress and strain of the COVID
environment enormously. I feel
alone behind enemy lines.

I don’t get a chance to sit
or let my face breathe without
a mask. I run between my
patients’ rooms trying to keep
their oxygen saturations above
normal. I help them breathe.

I put them on any respira-
tory device I can think of. I
prepare the patients and tools
for intubation. I make them
comfortable on the vent.

I am the one they see at the
head of the bed right before
they fall asleep, as I reassure
them that they are being cared
for, their family has been
notified and everything will
be OK.

My job does not stop there.

I am alone on the difficult
journey with them. I manage
their ventilator, take charge of
their airway and sometimes
am the one to turn it off as I
whisper in their ear, “What
an incredible fight you just
fought.” I entered the health care
field to help people, but never
did I imagine that I would
be thrown into the frontlines
of battle against an aggres-
sive, invisible and deadly
enemy. Had I known about
the pandemic and its impact
when I chose this profession,
would my decision have been
the same? I am ambivalent.

But I am also grateful, fortu-
nate, honored and proud. I am
a better person and a better
professional for it.

Although there is sustained
emotional and physical exhaus-
tion, bleeding from constant
hand scrubbing, dried skin
from extended mask wearing,
and fear of bringing the virus
home, it is a small price to
pay for the personal life lessons
and growth that the experience
afforded me.

I learned how to adapt and
adjust in rapid response to
fast-changing situations and
events. Being at the front-
lines during the pandemic
and experiencing the exigency
of my role as a respiratory
therapist, I learned that the
profession I chose is the sine
qua non of who I am.

My respiratory team and I
learned resourcefulness when
there were no resources. We
devised new and creative
ways to minimize contact and
proximity to COVID patients
by arranging for all patients’
monitoring systems to display
in hallways outside the rooms.

And collaboration was
key. The nursing department
rallied tirelessly to help with
breathing treatments, airway
suctioning and attending to
ventilator alarms when other
respiratory responsibilities
became too overwhelming
for us to manage. There was a
sense of unity flowing through
the patient care units.

The 17th-century English
author John Donne famously
said, “No man is an island.”
That was once just a quaint
platitude to me. As I learned
about and
experienced supreme team reliance and
co-worker trust, those words
became deeply embedded in
my new philosophy. We are not
a collection of isolated islands,
rather we are a mighty conti-
nent, and I hope to encourage
and inspire young men and
women to choose the noble
and rewarding profession of
respiratory therapy. l
Esther Lapin is a registered
respiratory therapist at Honor
Health Osborn Medical Center. She
lives in Scottsdale, Arizona..

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We are a diverse community. The views expressed in the signed opinion columns and letters to the
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KVETCH ’N’ KVELL
Emulate Oma
I MUST COMMEND EMILY BARASCH, who wrote an
extraordinarily uplifting account of “Quarantining With My
Holocaust Survivor Grandmother” (Oct. 29). Barasch gives us a
life-affirming list of all of the things that her grandmother did
during her visit, albeit an extended one from mid-March to July.

I would surmise that “Oma” had seen hard times before. Being
a Holocaust survivor puts quite a different slant on the term “hard
times.” Compared to her hard times, these hard times of being
quarantined with a loving family, having plenty of food, TV to
watch — French TV series and international movies — plus tablets
which could provide able bridge players, are a walk in the park,
speaking of which Oma enjoys regularly, during quarantine.

Upon being released from the camps in 1945, the first thing Jews
thought about was educating their children. In the most dreadful of
times, Jews looked to action, not feeling sorry for themselves.

Oma realized what was important during the pandemic. She
was comfortable, she made wonderful meals for her family, she
could still enjoy the arts and long walks taking in scenery of
lovely parks. In a word, her cup was half-full, not half-empty.

In the meantime, we must go on with our lives, cherish what
we have, and show courage in the face of difficulty. If there ever
was a time in our lives to emulate the Omas in our lives, this is it.

Ann Krauss | Havertown
Both Parties Face Questions Over Israel
Both Democrats and Republicans face serious challenges in their
ranks over Israel, but none are quite as threatening as either party
makes them out to be. These issues emerged in Oct. 29 commen-
taries composed by William Wanger (“Donald Trump: Promises
Made, Promises Kept”) and Jill Zipin (“Joe Biden: For Decency,
For Democracy, For America”).

Concerns were raised about some antagonistic representa-
tives in the House of Representatives who crudely bash Israel
and Trump’s impractical plan to resolve the Israeli-Palestinian
conflict. Wanger writes that Biden’s “party embraces the
warped anti-America, anti-Israel and anti-Semitic remarks
of the Rep. Ilhan Omar, Rep. Rashida Tlaib, Rep. Alexandria
Ocasio Cortez and Ayanna Pressley squad.”
Zipin notes that Biden “has not hesitated to take on those on
the left whose modern form of anti-Semitism takes the form of
rejecting Israel’s legitimacy.”
The truth lies somewhere in between: First, to correct the
record, Pressley has said she will take pro-Israel positions since
many of her Boston-based constituents are Jewish.

I’m not clear on what Biden has done, but Democrats in the House
should have censured Omar and Tlaib each time they opened their
mouths about Israel. Democrats never “embraced” them as they
tolerated their conduct so they would hold onto their supporters.

Most House Democrats are as pro-Israel as their Republican counter-
parts. The chief worry is whether people like Tlaib and Omar ever
rise to control the majority of Democrats in the House.

Wanger also writes, “Trump released a bold vision for peace
between Israel and the Palestinians.”
Trump’s plan for the Middle East would offer the Palestinians
less territory than Ehud Barak proposed to Yasser Arafat 20
years ago; Arafat rejected it. Why would the Palestinians accept
anything less now? l
Bruce Ticker | Philadelphia
NOVEMBER 5, 2020
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