A RABBI FOR SOCIAL CHANGE

When most people think rabbi, they often think of someone in a religious ivory tower, who is removed from the many issues of the day. But then most people haven't met Leonard Beerman. A lifelong activist, he has dedicated his life to remedying social injustice wherever he sees it, including the right to a living wage and other labor issues, nuclear disarmament, civil rights, and, some may be surprised, the rights of Palestinians.

Beerman credits Penn State for being a driving force behind his life's decisions and passions.

“I had always loved learning and grew to love it even more during my time at Penn State ,” he recalls. “I had so many wonderful professors who opened my mind up to realms I never knew existed.”

Born in Altoona in 1921, the family moved to Owosso, Michigan, when Beerman was seven. Although the family, which was one of seven Jewish families in town, and Beerman heard the occasional anti-Jewish epithet or remark, he wasn't particularly affected by it.

“Growing up in a small town was a magical experience,” he says. “You felt yourself embraced, part of a definable community."

By the late 1930s, Beerman's father was a traveling salesman and the family moved to State College so that Leonard, the oldest of four children, could attend college. Beerman enrolled at Penn State in 1939 and had three majors: philosophy, history, and literature. Not knowing how to channel these disciplines into a career, Beerman went to the Department of Psychology and took an aptitude test. The test indicated that he should be thinking about an academic career. However, a member of the faculty, viewing the results, he offered a brutally honest opinion.

It was 1940. “He said that as a Jew you cannot get a job at any college or university in this country unless you're a genius,” Beerman recalls. “ ‘You're bright but you're not a genius'.”

Depressed, Beerman decided to leave school and “see America —with war on the horizon, perhaps for the last time." With five dollars in his pocket, he and a friend began hitchhiking. As he moved west, he found himself drawn back to Michigan and took a job on the assembly line in the Flint AC Spark Plug plant, which had been converted to weapons production. It was there that he experienced the turning point that would forever change him.

“One day, sitting around the YMCA (where we lived), four or five of us started to discuss religion. When I said I was Jewish, one of the men said that if he'd known that, he would've never associated with me,” Beerman says. “Someone else said that they weren't going to associate with me now. And then they all got up and walked out of the room.”

Curious about the causes of anti-Semitism, Beerman began going to the public library and reading books on Jewish history, philosophy, and literature. Soon he realized that becoming a rabbi could encompass all of his spiritual and intellectual interests.

After graduating from rabbinical school in 1949, he chose to accept a job with a very small, new congregation in Los Angeles at the Leo Baeck Temple—and remained there for 37 years, seeing the congregation grow from twenty-seven families to 750. Beerman also became heavily involved with issues of justice and peace. He was co-chairman of a commission that studied the Los Angeles 's garmentindustry with its 160,000 workers, revealing that at least sixty percent of them were in sweat shops. Beerman credits his father for his passionate interest in poverty and social justice.

“Watching my father and others struggle to unionize to improve their working conditions had a powerful and enduring impact on me,” he says.

For his work, Beerman has been honored with numerous awards by a variety of organizations, among them the city of Los Angeles , the American Civil Liberties Union, The American Friends Service Committee, and the Physicians for Social Responsibility. He also received an honorary degree from Lafayette College .

Back to Main Issue