Eric Herschthal - Staff
Writer
Carla McIntosh, a 46-year-old Harlem resident, had been attending
the Commandment Keepers synagogue — the nation’s oldest
African-American congregation — for nearly her entire life. Both her
parents were Jews, followers of the congregation’s founder, Rabbi
Wentworth Arthur Matthew. And Carla’s children, teenagers who go to
an Orthodox yeshiva in Westchester, had attended, too.
But
four years ago, the McIntoshes severed their ties with Commandment
Keepers.
That is when a then three-decades-old battle over
the congregation’s leadership first landed in Manhattan Supreme
Court. The board of the synagogue had sued Rabbi David Matthew Doré,
a grandson of the congregation’s founder, for wrongfully claiming
himself the spiritual leader.
The case, which ruled in the
board’s favor, ended last year, but a new legal battle has just
begun, as Rabbi Doré is now suing the board for selling the building
— a registered New York historic landmark — on April 23 for $1.6
million. At the first hearing last week, tensions were ripe
throughout the day as the wife of the current rabbi exchanged scowls
with supporters from the Doré camp.
“The loss is devastating
just in terms of the historic importance of the synagogue,” said
McIntosh. “Everything transpired to destroy that
congregation.”
Though the selling of synagogues — and ugly
legal battles often filed in their wake — is not uncommon, few have
unfolded in such dramatic fashion, and over such a long period of
time. Rabbi Doré claims that he and his family members have been
locked out of the building, located at 1 W. 123rd St. in East
Harlem, for decades. In the current lawsuit, he also claims the
board has stolen hundreds of thousands of dollars worth of religious
artifacts.
The current board alleges Rabbi Doré broke into
the building several years ago, and that more recently, followers of
his punched the board’s president and a former rabbi’s wife in the
face.
It is an ugly battle that is compounded by the
historic importance of the congregation. Founded in 1919 by Rabbi
Matthew, a West Indian immigrant born to an Ethiopian Jewish father,
Commandment Keepers gradually came to follow Orthodox Jewish
practices. Members observed all Jewish holidays, kept kosher,
performed circumcisions and bar mitzvahs, and the synagogue had a
mechitza separating men’s and women’s seats.
In 1937, there
were about 600 black Jews in Harlem who belonged to Rabbi Matthew’s
synagogue, according to a report in Time magazine that year. Most
were from Ethiopia, and a few were American converts, said the
article, which noted that Rabbi Matthew was born in Lagos, West
Africa, and held a doctor of divinity degree from the University of
Berlin, having studied in Tel Aviv and at the Pittsburgh Bible
Institute.
During the height of the civil rights era, the
progressive Rabbi Irving Block, a graduate of the Conservative
movement’s Jewish Theological Seminary, befriended Rabbi Matthew and
encouraged him to apply to the New York Board of Rabbis and B’nai
B’rith. Both men hoped it would bring Rabbi Matthew’s followers into
the fold of mainstream American Judaism.
Rabbi Matthew
applied repeatedly to both boards, but was denied each time. The
boards’ official reason for rejecting Rabbi Matthew was that he was
not ordained by one of their affiliated seminaries, according to
Rabbi Sholomo ben Levy, the president of the Israelite Board of
Rabbis, the current seminary for black rabbis. The question of black
Jewish authenticity remained an open question, and remains one
still, after Rabbi Matthew died in 1973.
That year is when
the battle over Commandment Keepers turned inward.
Rabbi
Doré, ordained along with several others by his grandfather, was
named spiritual leader of the congregation just before Rabbi
Matthew’s death. Rabbi Doré was just 16 at the time.
“The
appointment of Rabbi Doré caused a division within the synagogue,”
said Gregory R. Preston, a lawyer for the Commandment Keepers’
board. “The question was who was going to be the spiritual leader of
the synagogue.”
By 1975, the board of the congregation at the
time decided to hold an election to designate a leader, according to
the current board’s lawyers. (The board’s members did not want to
speak on the record, deferring all comments to their
lawyers.)
Thirty of the 31 congregants who voted chose Rabbi
Willie White, also ordained by Rabbi Matthew, as its leader, said
Preston.
Both Preston and Rabbi Doré, as well as other black
rabbis interviewed for this article with ties to Commandment
Keepers, say that Doré and other rabbis conducted services jointly,
however, even after Rabbi White’s election.
“It wasn’t until
the early 1980s,” Doré said, “that Rabbi White began locking people
out.”
Doré, who by then was working full-time as a lawyer,
began observing the Sabbath at the home of friends and family.
Though occasionally, he and other supporters of his said, they would
try to get into the synagogue. Rabbi Doré’s nephew even had his bar
mitzvah outside the building – an event covered by The New York
Amsterdam News, the historic black newspaper – in 1994.
It is
around that time that Julian Wormley entered the
picture.
Wormley married Rabbi White’s daughter, and in the
early1990s began attending Commandment Keepers. Early in 1996, Rabbi
White, whose health was rapidly declining, appointed Wormley
president. Several months later Wormley was elected to that post
officially, Preston says. (He did not know how many members voted,
or how many members in total Commandment Keepers had at that
time.)
By all accounts, membership at the synagogue was
steadily declining throughout the 1990s. One member, who joined in
the mid-1990s and left after the first lawsuit was filed in 2004,
put the number upon her departure at 25 regular attendees, at most.
The source, who does not personally know Rabbi Doré, asked to remain
anonymous.
While problems increasingly beset Commandment
Keepers, the center of black Jews shifted in practical
terms.
Rabbi Matthew’s ordaining body, the Ethiopian
Rabbinical College, had been taken over by one of his students,
Rabbi Levi Ben Levy (the father of Rabbi Sholomo Ben Levy) after
Rabbi Matthew’s death. Rabbi Levy renamed the body the Israelite
Rabbinical Academy, trying to prevent confusion over the movement’s
origins. The school was housed in the Beth Elohim Hebrew
Congregation, in Queens, one of two congregations founded by Rabbi
Levy.
In effect, the Israelite Rabbinical Academy and its
affiliated Israelite Board of Rabbis became the functioning home of
Rabbi Matthew’s brand of Judaism. Today, there are about ten
congregations in New York with rabbis ordained by the Israelite
Rabbinical Academy.
Though none are members of the New York
Board of Rabbis, they participate informally with other New York
Jewish congregations. Two weeks ago, for instance, they were invited
to Mayor Bloomberg’s celebration of the 40th anniversary of the
unification of Jerusalem.
(There are an estimated 50,000 to
150,000 “black Jews” in America, according to Gary Tobin, a San
Francisco-based demographer who studies the black Jewish community,
though that number is based on the broadest possible definition,
which includes those in congregations not affiliated with the
Israelite Board of Rabbis.)
Given the Israelite Board of
Rabbis’ current prevalence, its president, Rabbi Sholomo Ben Levy
had invited Rabbi Doré and the rabbis at Commandment Keepers to its
beit din, or religious court, to settle their issues.
“We’ve
been asking both parties [to the court] before the building was
sold, for many years now,” said Rabbi Levy, who also works as a
professor of history at a community college in Pennsylvania. “But
Doré refused.” Rabbi Levy also said that he is a friend of Rabbi
Doré’s, and has a long-standing open invitation for Doré to sit on
the Israelite Board of Rabbis.
The original lawsuit, from
2004, was filed against Rabbi Doré by the board of the Commandment
Keepers, though. Rabbi Doré says by then, it was too late to settle
the issue in any religious court.
That year, Rabbi Zechariah
ben Lewi had become the rabbi at Commandment Keepers, and membership
had fallen to eight, a number alleged by Rabbi Doré in his current
suit and acknowledged by Preston, the board’s lawyer.
“The
membership was dwindling and [my clients] were trying to breathe new
life into the congregation,” Preston, the attorney, said in
reference to why the board sold the building. He did not know where
those members would come from, or where the last ones would
go.
Nonetheless, Preston said, “They don’t even have a place
to worship now because they’re in this lawsuit.” |