Dear Friends,
October 7th shook many of us to our core. How could it not?
The immediate demonstrations against Israel that began while the attack was still underway and before Israel had begun to respond added to that sense of discomfort. How could it not?
The rapid rise in antisemitic events since the attack, as reported by ADL, added further to that sense of uncertainty and dismay. How could it not?
But the growing demonstrations on numerous college and university campuses have added to the emotional upheaval so many of us are feeling even more. And I have been wondering why this, as much or more than anything else, has shaken us.
Yes, the pervasiveness and momentum of the demonstrations is cause for concern.
And yes, the rhetoric coming from many of the demonstrators is disconcerting. Early demonstrations at least attempted to hide their ugliness behind slogans such as “from the river to the sea” and argued that they weren’t calling for genocide, while demonstrators at the current gatherings are now chanting such hateful things as “Bomb Tel Aviv” and “kill all the Zionists.”
And yes, news that some schools have gone to remote learning, cancelled large commencement ceremonies and all but accepted the fact that their schools are not currently safe for Jews raises fears that those in decision-making positions are willing to accept this as the new reality.
And yes, the lack of leadership shown by many school administrators, for whom job one should be the safety and security of ALL students, is infuriating. Why are Jewish students not being granted the same protections as other minority groups?
But I think there is another layer to this that also makes this feel like the growing hate toward our community has entered another stage.
Just a few days ago we sat at our Passover Seders and read of the trials and tribulations of the Israelites. We read about their pain and suffering but ended our retelling of the story with a nechemtah- a message of comfort- that redemption is possible. When the Israelites crossed the Reed Sea they entered into the unknown. They had no idea what they would encounter in the Sinai wilderness and they did not yet have the Torah as a guidebook for creating a sacred community. But they were no longer slaves and finally had control over their destiny. The future was uncertain but they were the ones who would map the path forward. That too was a nechemtah, that too offered a message of comfort and hope.
The moment we are in offers no such nechemtah. We are in waters that are as uncharted as the Reed Sea but we are dealing with outside forces that are looking to marginalize and isolate us. Like many of you, I grew up believing that America was different and had finally broken the historic cycle that has led to so many atrocities directed toward our community. I am no longer sure that is the case and it has shaken me to the core. And the fact that these demonstrations, which appear to be organic and spontaneous but are anything but, adds to this sense of uncertainty.
I am confident we will weather the current storm. Our political leaders and law enforcement understand their responsibility to ensure the safety of Jewish Americans even if university presidents do not. Jewish organizations are working more closely with one another than ever and our voices, when used together, are loud and impactful. (See the end of this message for some action steps we can all take.) To paraphrase the last line of my current favorite service reading, “There is no way to get from here to there except by joining hands and marching together.” Now, more than ever, we need to work to strengthen our community.
But none of that mitigates the unease so many of us feel in this moment. So instead, I pray we will continue to hold on to one another and as one community continue to work to create the world we want for our children and generations to come.
Shabbat Shalom,
Rabbi Daniel Cohen