Open from 1893 to 1973, Gwynn Oak Park in Northwest Baltimore’s Woodlawn community was desegregated in 1963 after several years of protests. (Photo from Wikipedia)

By reinforcing the foundations of communities, great social justice achievements can be celebrated.

One of the things they don’t train you for in rabbinical school is building construction. But as Beth Am’s major renovations have progressed, I’ve come to learn much about the process.

I’ve also discovered terminology that derives from engineering/architecture/constructionthat’s also used in rabbinic or academic circles. For example, did you knowthat the term “underpinning,” which I understand to mean foundational ideas ortexts, means injecting concrete into the foundation of an existing structure toreinforce its stability?

In many ways, my rabbinate reflects a desire to reinforce strong foundations.I strive to teach Torah with depth, providing the textual underpinnings formeaningful work in the world. And our synagogue building’s presence on EutawPlace for nearly a century begs a question of underpinnings, too: how does therootedness of our community interact with another community, the African-Americancommunity, who also have deep roots in the same neighborhood?

I was speaking with a black Christian colleague recently. He pastorsa legacy black church in West Baltimore, the same church where he grew up. Forfun, on a Saturday afternoon when he was a child, he and his family would ridethe bus westbound to its terminus: Gwynn Oak Park. The bus would circle thelegendary amusement park and then return to West Baltimore. The colleaguewasn’t allowed into the park but would gaze through the window at whitechildren and families riding roller coasters, eating cotton candy.

Gwynn Oak Park was desegregated in 1963 after years of protests. OnAug. 28 of that year, the same day Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. gave his “I Havea Dream” speech, 11-month-old Sharon Langley became the first African-Americanchild to ride the merry-go-round at Gwynn Oak. It was a day of great triumph, whenfolks with dark skin could enjoy the same rides and carnival games as theirfellow light-skinned Baltimoreans.

In 2013, a large of number of my congregants and I met up withchurch-goers at Metropolitan Methodist, from which protests in 1963 werelaunched and during which hundreds were arrested. We gathered on the 50thanniversary of the desegregation to view a documentary chronicling the eventsof that era.

Gwynn Oak Park Sign
Gwynn Oak Park Sign (File photo)

These days, I find myself thinking of another, less celebratory, anniversary and one quickly approaching: the 50th anniversary of the closing of Gwynn Oak Park in 1973. Hurricane Agnes in 1972 marked the final blow, but the park had been fading for some time. There were several factors, but one significant one was that many white families accustomed to frequenting the amusement park simply stopped coming, just as white families often moved away from neighborhoods witnessing an influx of people of color. The carousel Sharon Langley rode now sits an hour away on the National Mall, but Gwynn Oak is now just a sleepy suburban park.

Recently, our shul(worshipping during construction in a black Baptist church) hosted Kate Pooleof Chordata Capital, a third generation Beth Am’er, to speak about herphilanthropic work supporting black sovereignty in Reservoir Hill. She definesblack sovereignty as “giving both resources (money, time, expertise) and power(the decision-making power over how those resources are spent).”

It was a thoughtful and provocative talk, after which we joinedneighbors at Dovecote Café for our neighborhood’s annual Juneteenth Celebrationand Home and Garden Tour. It was a beautiful day on which we visited stunninggardens and stately homes, and enjoyed a jubilant community atmospherecelebrating the shared history of Reservoir Hill’s Black and Jewish history andculture.

How do we prevent all-too-common backlash to great social justiceachievements? By reinforcing the foundations of communities. We only enjoy thefruits of our social justice labor when roots run deep and underpinnings are secure. 

Rabbi Daniel Cotzin Burg
Daniel Cotzin Burg is rabbi of Beth Am Synagogue in Reservoir Hill. (Photo provided)

Rabbi Daniel Cotzin Burg is spiritual leader of Beth Am Synagogue in Reservoir Hill, where he lives with his wife, Rabbi Miriam Cotzin Burg, and their children, Eliyah and Shamir. This column and others also can be found on The Urban Rabbi. Each month in Jmore, Rabbi Burg explores a different facet of The New Jewish Neighborhood, a place where Jewish community is reclaimed and Jewish values reimagined in Baltimore.

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