The conflict between Israel and the terrorist organization HAMAS (Harakat al-Mukawamma al-Islammilya, lit. the movement of Islamist Resistance, founded in 1987) has been developing for more than twenty years. The horrendous attack on October 7 by its militants (and many Gazan civilians) clearly revealed that above all, the fight with HAMAS is one over core values that transcends beyond national borders. In the past few years, we have also sadly seen a rise in antisemitism here in the U.S. Since Oct 7 this intensified beyond our wildest estimates and surprised us in spaces where we thought we were safe to be Jewish.
Until recently, we, Jews in America, largely believed that antisemitism was a feature of the past. As our community lost its recent-immigrant identity and our support of the civil rights, feminist and liberal movements brought us closer together with other groups, we felt more secure in general, and more confident in the allyships we established, deeply believing they were solid and reliable.
Though the American Jewish society and the Israeli one are different, the events of Oct 7 had some similar effects on both. For many Israelis, Oct 7 was the realization of their worst fears. For us here, it is the current rise in antisemitism that we thought would never happen. As long-established allyships came tumbling down, even in intellectual and business centers where Jews had been comfortable and included for decades, we were forced to re-evaluate our relationships, to do a Cheshbon Nefesh חשבון נפש (soul-searching, in this case a communal one).
This antisemitic antizionist wave we are witnessing stands in striking opposition to all that American society stands for and threatens its core values. Since October 7, many of us have had a personal brush against antisemitism – explicit or implicit. Others had to support children or grandchildren as they were navigating a growing hostile environment at school or on campus. This is new, alarming, scary and deeply unravelling for most of us. In order to rebuild our confidence, resilience and solidarity, we must talk about all these intense feelings, and about what fear looks like. We need to also share coping strategies and ideas.
Let me do exactly that and share a short personal story about fear. A few weeks back I went to Sam’s Club with my mom, who was here for a visit. As we walked back to the parking lot with a fully loaded cart, I saw a man in raggedy clothes getting out of a big white van parked right next to my car. As we started unloading the cart, he suddenly turned to us, picked up a tray of bottled water and said A-Salam Aleikum (Arabic for peace be upon you). As my brain was trying to quickly process the situation to evaluate the threat level, I heard myself answer W-Aleikum A-Salam (and peace be upon you too), the customary expected response in Arabic. I noticed my heart rate was going up, so I took a deep breath and slowly moved to stand between him and my mother. Engaging in conversation, he asked where we were from. I responded saying “from the Middle East” and then asked him the same question, redirecting the conversation to buy myself some time to decide how to respond. He took the bait and shared that he was not Muslim himself but had many friends who are, and that he was from Chechnya and moved to the U.S. ten years ago.
Taking all the info I gleaned from that short interaction, I concluded that the situation was likely benign but that it would still be best to wrap it up as soon as possible and leave. I thanked him nicely and we drove away. My mom then asked why I was not up front with him. A wave of guilt came over me, one I think many of us have felt in recent months. I felt I should have been proud of my Israeli and Jewish identity, not hide it.
A minute later, though, I realized I did the best possible thing. This man was from a place where a brutal war raged not long ago, positions defined along religious lines. He also had many Muslim friends and felt close to them. There was no point in getting into what could have been a highly unpleasant situation, maybe even a violent one. Refusing to be thrust into a conflictual situation unprepared, I was not ready to take the risk of getting into a fight in the Sam’s Club parking lot, with my mom next to me, nor did I see the efficacy in that, I told my mom, and she agreed.
Recently, I have heard several stories from community members that remind me of the one I just shared. They differ in detail but are similar in that they triggered fear, confusion and often guilt in the individual who shared their story with me. Some felt like they should be ready for every possible scenario. Others were deeply shaken, feeling they had to hide their Jewish identity to feel safe physically, socially or emotionally, and that was a new and alarming experience for them. These stories have inspired me to start a series of articles in which we will discuss and potentially practice (in writing), our possible responses when faced with situations like these. We will also talk about this guilt that may descend upon us when we choose a “flight” rather than “fight” response. Being prepared for every possible scenario is not realistic, nor is it a healthy state of mind to be in indefinitely. Practicing scenarios in our head, however, can help us become more comfortable in uncomfortable situations, and thus create space in our heads to choose a response that best fits the specific circumstances we may find ourselves in. Please follow the series and share your thoughts or stories with me via email.
In the coming months, we at the Federation will also offer specific trainings to discuss our new reality and practice possible scenarios and responses. In addition, I invite you to reach out if you are interested in inviting us for a training and conversation in your community, workplace, or with your circle of friends. We will also be offering teens and parents training, and high schoolers/college students and parents’ training in the next couple of months.
Rabbi Sacks pointed to the difference between Optimism and Hope. While optimism is the belief that the world is getting better all the time, hope is the realization that while the world may not be on the right path yet, we can and must do all that we can to ensure it is. Please join me.
To share your thoughts or request a community conversation, please contact me at lalon@jfedsrq.org.