When I first came to Charleston 15 years ago, there was an appointment on my schedule I didn’t understand. Apparently, my synagogue and Morris Brown AME Church had, for many years, co-hosted one of the YWCA’s ecumenical services held in the Charleston area over the Martin Luther King Jr. holiday weekend. My predecessor had arranged an introduction with Morris Brown’s pastor, the Rev. Joe Darby, to get the ball rolling.
I was happy to do it — but it was only the summer!
New to the community, I was nearly overwhelmed with the effort of getting to know the lay of the land within my own congregation and meeting the members of its roughly 500 households. Did this really need to be a top priority right then?
Little did I know this would be one of the most important meetings, not only of that summer, but of my entire rabbinate. In fact, many people — from authors and artists to politicians and business leaders — regularly made a conversation with Darby one of their first stops to try to appreciate the unique challenges, strengths and nuances of Charleston. No one understood the lay of the land better.
Darby had a singular ability to diagnose the historic conditions underlying Charleston’s modern ailments. He recognized the recurring patterns in the way the city addressed (or failed to address) systemic issues of disparity — in public education, transportation, gentrification, flooding — and he didn’t shy away from sharing what he saw. He did so with simplicity, frankness and specificity from pulpits, podia and the pages of this newspaper. He had an incredible gift for sharing worlds of profound truth with an economy of words.
In a treasured conversation preserved in “Charleston: Race, Water, and the Coming Storm,” Darby told Susan Crawford about the city’s pattern of Black mitigation: “The city wants to do X, so what is the least the city can do when doing X that will appease Black folks and not cause too much friction?” And he gave examples: “A few college scholarships to compensate” for the displacement of historic Black communities by the building of the Arthur Ravenel Jr. Bridge; naming the Crosstown in honor of Civil Rights leader Septima Clark as meager acknowledgment of the expressway’s considerable destruction and displacement of Black neighborhoods.
Darby frequently described Charleston as “imprisoned by politeness,” referring to our failure to even talk about, much less address, issues of inequality and injustice, of systemic racism. He understood implicitly that the social, the political, the spiritual — they’re all one and the same. He regularly spoke truth to power. But more than that, he consistently demonstrated how speaking truth is power in that it frees us to clearly see, and then do, the work that needs to be done.
Ever soft-spoken, Darby was nonetheless perpetually frank. He didn’t rock the boat just for the sake of rocking the boat. But he knew a boat needs to be rocked to move from where it gets stuck — and boats don’t rock on their own; you have to rock them. How fortunate we were that he was never afraid to initiate or help sustain the rocking.
Darby was seemingly everywhere at once — heading organizations, serving on committees, holding press conferences, speaking out at public meetings — all while attentively pastoring his own congregations. Yet he was always gracious with his time and connections. Darby was my introduction to the Rev. Clementa Pinckney (then a new arrival at Mother Emanuel AME Church), whom he asked to participate in two of our joint MLK services at KKBE. How grateful I was to later be invited by Pinckney to speak from the pulpit of his church.
Darby was also my introduction to what would become the Charleston Area Justice Ministry. When a community organizer reached out to discuss the possibility of a faith-based social justice initiative in Charleston, I had no choice but to agree when he said the magic words: “Rev. Darby suggested I talk with you.” Someday it will no doubt be revealed that CAJM began with a group of clergy who came together simply because of the trust and respect evoked for all of us by Joe’s name.
In Jewish tradition, we say Zichronam Livracha — the memories of the righteous are an abiding blessing. How grateful I am, like so many of us, to have cherished memories with the Rev. Joseph A. Darby. May they inspire each of us to speak the truth and do the work as his enduring legacy.
Rabbi Stephanie M. Alexander serves as the senior rabbi of Kahal Kadosh Beth Elohim (KKBE) in downtown Charleston. Since Rabbi Alexander’s arrival in 2010, KKBE has expanded its opportunities for lifelong learning, made multiple trips to Israel and other worldwide destinations, welcomed dynamic scholars and artists in residence and deepened its involvement in social justice. Rabbi Alexander and KKBE are proud founding members of CAJM, the Charleston Area Justice Ministry.