There has been lots written about the clergy “protest” in Ferguson yesterday. None of it completely portrays what I experienced and before I forget I want to record my version of the events.

I went with a fair amount of trepidation. I am no stranger to rallies, protests, demonstrations and marches. Pick your word. But this one felt different and I couldn’t articulate why. Yet, one of my favorite organizations, T’ruah, Rabbis for Human Rights put out a national call. It was my day off. Saint Louis is a place that is near and dear to my heart and it was doable. Added to that my good friend, classmate and colleague, Rabbi Maralee Gordon, from up the road also wanted to go and my best friend, Father Jack Lau, lives just across the river in Godfrey. The WalMart that they talk about in the news in Ferguson, is his WalMart!

It felt different because here in Elgin, we do a good job working with the police department and Chief Soboda to prevent issues like erupted in Ferguson. In fact at today’s clergy council meeting we are planning a city wide event in January to train people in de-escalation techniques. I want to work with the police, not against them. I want to partner with them and not turn these kinds of things into an us versus them kind of thing.

But I went. And I am glad I did. It was extremely powerful. I was in Ferguson for maybe 7 hours. It will take me longer than 7 hours to process it. It is a series of vignettes. It is a series of ripples in a pond. (water metaphors are rampant!)

I admit it. I was scared. I was scared of the threat of tear gas. I was scared of the threat of arrest. I was scared of losing control. I was scared of physical violence. I was scared about what my own community would think. I was so scared that when I got on the highway I found I was going on 90 East not 90 West. My own Jonah, how far can I run away to Tarshish (maybe Boston?) moment. I was glad to share the experience with Jack and Maralee. I don’t think I could have done it alone.

So the vignettes.

• We got there early. CNN and ABC were already there. So no real secret. The church wasn’t quite ready but there was a group from a seminary in Kentucky that was already there. We found we had friends in common. Soon two local rabbis showed up. Still more friends in common. The pastor welcomed us. It was his day off but he opened the church for everyone and apologized that the coffee wasn’t ready. Later, since his support staff wasn’t in, he was the one mopping the floor, not once but twice. Always with a smile. My kind of guy. And even after 6 rabbis offered to do it for him or with him, it was still he who was mopping.
• During the training I got up to go to the bathroom. I wasn’t sure when I would see another one. There was a long line. When I got back the (black) lady in front of me was staring at me. She thought I was laughing at her. She had just said that she was scared to go to jail and didn’t want to even though she was a marshal. Together we laughed—and shared that neither of us wanted to go to jail. I felt chicken. More laughter. The good kind. Later I saw her in the parking lot and we hugged. And we laughed. And we didn’t go to jail.
• At some point the rain came “tumbling down.” Not just rain but a deluge. Apparently it was a tornado watch but we didn’t know that. I can’t explain how wet I got. Or all of the water metaphors. Was it a baptism? A mikveh? Healing rain? Forgiving rain? Was G-d punishing us? Punishing the police? I can say that I am grateful to the local (white) couple who shared their big red umbrella with the three of us. They were there with the Unitarian Universalists and were concerned about their minister who might have been arrested. Singing “Wading in the Water” a song that we use at Mayyim Hayyim events from time to time was one of the more powerful experience of the day.
• Both Jack and I gave interviews. He to an affiliate of CNN which was picked up nationally and posted on Facebook: http://www.cnn.com/video/?/video/us/2014/10/14/dnt-cheatham-missouri-protests.cnn&video_referrer=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.facebook.com%2Fl.php%3Fu%3Dhttp%253A%252F%252Fwww.cnn.com%252Fvideo%252Fdata%252F2.0%252Fvideo%252Fus%252F2014%252F10%252F14%252Fdnt-cheatham-missouri-protests.cnn.html%26h%3DhAQHa4xK8 . It helped clarify why were there. For Jack it was about solidarity. For me it was about presence. Being present in that place, at the request of Rabbi Susan Talve. Even in the rain. The pouring rain. If that boy could lay in the street for four hours and 32 minutes then I could stand in the rain for four hours. Cold, wet, tired, hungry. But alive. And present.
• At some point I noticed a woman in red approach a police officer. She was in his face. She took a step closer. Uh oh, this isn’t going to be good. I backed away. I figured she would be the first to be arrested. But no, to my amazement, the “encounter” ended in a hug. A long embrace. The singular most important moment of the rally for me.
• Not knowing completely what had happened but knowing it was significant, I kept watching the police in their riot gear. I wondered how hard this was for them. All of these insults hurled at them. They handled the situation professionally and with grace. But then we were a diverse, mixed group of clergy. It would not be good to arrest all those clergy. It might be different at midnight if the protesters were all teenagers or all black and if they were hurling rocks and not insults.
• This rally was safer than I had first thought. I got my own courage up. I approached a officer, a younger one and thanked him. Yes, thanked him. For doing his job. I shared that I thought Elgin might be different. He said that this kind of violence was inevitable, anywhere and that they know how to do this professionally because they have been doing it now every day for two months. It saddened me to think that it is inevitable. And that is part of why I was there.
• It got tense again. The prominent clergy made a line (it was still pouring), linking arm in arm, elbow to elbow, face to face with the police line. They did not, as reported in the press break through the police line. They just stood. Or kneeled. One clergy person in front of each police officer. They offered to hear police confessions. Some held up a mirror. They were peaceful. There was a call for a moment of silence. It was more like 10 minutes. It was powerful. I watched the back of T’ruah’s, Rabbi Rachel Kahn-Troster’s head with its purple kippah. She was on the very front line. Face-to-face with an officer. Unflinching. Prepared to go to jail. But she was not arrested. No rabbi was.
• After the rally, back in the church, we debriefed. The woman who embraced the police demonstrated what had happened. It was picked up on Facebook and this is what happened before that embrace: “While holding a sign that said “YOU ARE KILLING US” on one side and “DON’T SHOOT” on the other, Sister Dragonfly approached a Ferguson officer and attempted to make eye contact. She implored him to look at her, and when their gaze connected, she asked, “Why do you all hate us so much?” The officer responded, “I don’t hate you, ma’am.” She replied with “I don’t want to hate you, I’d rather hug you.” And when he said, “Then hug me,” she promptly put her arms around him, and they embraced whole-heartedly for nearly a minute.
• Also at the debriefing, a man came up to the group of rabbis clustered at the back. He was wearing a bright green hat from the National Lawyers’ Guild. They were the Legal Observers and providing legal support. There were tears in his eyes. He was raised Jewish and was overwhelmed by the rabbinic presence. “Your commitment to Tikkun Olam makes me have faith. In a higher power. In the work that I am doing. I love that you are here.”
• We drove out of Ferguson. We wonder if our clothes will ever dry. Did our shoes survive? We drove past Jack’s WalMart, the same one they would be boycotting. The same one we heard earlier in the day refused to sell batteries to one of the organizers for the bullhorn.

This story is about all of us. This story is not black and white. It is not simple. It is not pretty. As we chanted, “This is what democracy looks like. This is what theology looks like.” It is complicated. It is messy. The boy who lay on the ground for four hours and 32 minutes has become a catalyst for change. Necessary change. Necessary discussion. There is racism in America. There is a system where justice is not balanced.

I went because there was a national call for clergy to go. I went because I work with the clergy of Elgin, and the before hand the clergy of Lowell WITH the police to prevent these kinds of things. I went because there are too many examples of police brutality and system abuse everywhere.  I went because we are all created b’tzelem elohim, in the image of G-d. Teens, of whatever color, and police officers alike. I went because as one congregant put it, “You went because you continue to inspire those of us who believe it will get better but that we need to be active for Tikkun Olam to be more than a dream.”

So why was I there? I was there because we are told “Don’t stand by while your neighbor bleeds.” I could not stand by. I needed to stand up and be counted.