Loaves of Love

By Cait Ushpol

Born free in post-Apartheid South Africa, I was fattened on Ubuntu by Beauty Sibisi, my illiterate, Zulu caregiver and other-mother. Beauty was one of the countless black South Africans denied the opportunity, under Nationalist rule, to be educated in a formal, academic setting. But Beauty’s wisdom lay in her moral vocabulary, based on the caring spirit of Ubuntu. This enduring African ethos of humanity, “I am, because we are – Umuntu ngumuntu ngabantu -fueled my games and informed my fun. In my simple world, by putting ‘my ” ְו ָָּֽא ַה ְב ָּ ָּ֥ת ְל ֵר ֲע ָ֖ך ָּכ ֑מוֹך neighbors’ at my core, Beauty taught me to share by consistently showing empathy, respect, and generosity towards others. Mandela harnessed the same traditional philosophy to transform monochrome SA into the Rainbow Nation, an infant democracy where all were valued and included. And then, out of the blue, I was forced to pack up my African roots and remake my world.

Graphic by Sydney Hilbush

Sixteen years later, as a new American, I cast my vote for unity in Georgia’s run-off election – in a state flattened by the pandemic and ravaged by deep social and political divisions. A Black- Jewish coalition helped elect Reverend Raphael Warnock–the pastor from MLK’s Ebenezer Baptist Church–as the first black Senator to represent Georgia, as well as Jon Ossoff–the only senator with serious Tik-Tok game–as the first Jewish senator in state history. Ossoff was sworn in holding a Pentateuch that belonged to the late Atlanta Rabbi Jacob Rothschild. Following the 1968 assassination of Martin Luther King, Rabbi Rothschild delivered the eulogy and called for America to become “a land where a man does not lift up sword against his neighbor, but where each sits under his own vine and under his own fig tree and there is none to make him afraid” (RawStory).

My ‘messengers of peace’–Beauty, Mandela, Warnock, Ossoff, Rothschild, and King–have taught me that there is much justice and healing work to do in our world until we all love our neighbors as ourselves. Yet each one of us has the opportunity to engage in the traditions of tzedakah and tikkun olam. As the US confronted institutional and interactional prejudice in Summer 2020, I had the chance to help develop and execute the Atlanta Fulton Library Foundation’s new strategic plan. For the Foundation, The Library is not a mere book repository: it is a community hub providing access, promoting literacy, addressing the digital divide, and engaging with the neighborhood. By working to manage this community engagement space ethically and equitably, I am, in my own small way, realizing the command of Leviticus 19:18. At Cal, I love my neighbors through my work with Challah for Hunger (CfH). As I braid loaves of love every Thursday, I think about CfH’s mission to address food insecurity on campus and beyond. It is our imperative as Jews to break bread with those around us, sharing our time- honored rituals with neighbors and strangers alike, while providing the emotional nourishment of comfort and community.