Balancing Fear And Faith In Confronting Anti-Semitism
Returning to the synagogue after Colleysville was an intrinsically Jewish response.
Coming soon to America? Visible security in front of synagogues is common in Europe. Such scenes may well become familiar in the U.S. in the wake of violent attacks on Jewish houses of worship.
Deborah Lipstadt walked to her synagogue last Shabbat morning with “an air of defiance and anticipation,” she told me, emphasizing: “They’re not mutually exclusive.”
One week after the frightening drama at the synagogue in Colleyville, Texas, and a few days after The New York Times published her Opinion piece (“For Jews, Going To The Synagogue Is An Act Of Faith”), the noted historian told me she made sure to go to shul, davka (“specifically”) to show her solidarity with shulgoers everywhere – and she was looking forward to being with her friends and neighbors at services.
Expressing both her fears and faith at the moment, Lipstadt wrote in her Oped: “We are shaken. We are not OK. But we will bounce back. We are resilient because we cannot afford not to be. That resiliency is part of the Jewish DNA. Without it, we would have disappeared centuries ago. We refuse to go away. But we are exhausted.”
Indeed, many of us have been shaken to the core by the spike in violent anti-Semitic acts in recent years, and we wonder if it’s still safe to be Jewish in America. We know that this country has been more welcoming than any other diaspora community in history. But as haters from the far left and far right have found common cause in their anti-Semitism, we sense that something foundational has shifted in our society. The pervasive national mood – a combination of frustration, anger, misinformation and confusion – is threatening the core of civility that has held us together as a nation.
One compelling and timely example: Lipstadt, an Emory University professor of American Jewish history and the Holocaust, is the center of a foolish and needless controversy in Washington that underscores the dangers of a deeply divided society.
Widely admired for her scholarship and courage in successfully countering Holocaust denier David Irving’s libel suit against her in a British court in 2000, Lipstadt was nominated by President Biden in July to be the U.S. Special Envoy for Monitoring and Combating Anti-Semitism.
More than two dozen Jewish groups from a wide range of religious and political views have unanimously supported her for the post, informally known as the Ambassador Against Anti-Semitism. But Lipstadt’s nomination has been stalled by several key Republican senators upset with some of her tweets critical of them. (Her supporters note that more of her tweets have been critical of House members on the left.)
The fact that this key post has been vacant for more than six months – a time when anti-Semitism has become an increasingly pressing issue to be addressed and when the nominee is so thoroughly qualified to address it – underscores that, more than ever, politics trumps common sense – and the common good.
Political sources suggest that Republican leaders are sufficiently embarrassed by the stalled nomination to move ahead with hearings early next month.
But beyond the politics of Capitol Hill, the deep concern about violent anti-Semitism remains.
Are we Jews doomed to live apart, increasingly distrustful of our neighbors?
How fitting that there are indications in the Torah reading from this past Shabbat, “Yitro,” that we should be ever vigilant of our enemies, but not lose faith in the nations of the world.
We read of Amalek, the quintessential anti-Semite, who attacked the Israelites from behind, going after the weakest first. The battle only turns, miraculously, when Moses, with help from his closest aides, keeps his arms uplifted, rallying his soldiers to victory.
One lesson here: even great leaders cannot succeed alone.
Another example is found in the parsha when the Midian priest, Yitro, visits his son-in-law, Moses, and family at the Israelites’ encampment in the desert. He praises God and, seeing how Moses is exhausted as the sole adjudicator of conflicts among the people, he encourages Moses to select wise men to serve as judges. Moses readily agrees.
Rabbi Shai Held, a theologian and president of the New York-based educational institute, Hadar, offers a valuable insight in an essay (“Does Everyone Hate The Jews?”) on this parsha. Citing earlier sages as well, he notes that the Torah is reminding us that even though we have eternal enemies, symbolized by Amalek, we also have, and can learn from, those outside of our faith, like Yitro, who show support for us and are a source of goodness.
“Subtly but unmistakably, the opening of our parsha makes two essential points,” Rabbi Held writes. “Although some people do, not everyone hates the Jews. And although the Torah is endless in its depth and riches, there is vital wisdom to be found elsewhere, too. The Torah itself teaches that Torah alone is not enough.”
Rabbi Angela Buchdahl of Central Synagogue, who was drawn into the Colleyville drama when the gunman called her the previous Shabbat, also cited Yitro’s message to Moses – “you cannot do this alone” – in her emotional sermon this past weekend. Citing the efforts of the FBI and other officials to end the nightmare, and the prayers of countless others, she noted: “We need to partner with people of every faith, in good faith. We cannot do it alone.”
Rabbi Buchdahl addressed the eternal Jewish balancing act by asserting, “we have to protect ourselves, but if we only build fortresses around our sanctuaries and around our hearts, then hate wins.”
"Coming soon to America? Visible security in front of synagogues is common in Europe." Gary, you might as well add "Latin America" to this statement in the caption, as since the 1994 AMIA bombing in Buenos Aires, synagogues and other Jewish institutions throughout South and Central America and Mexico have beefed up security to European-style levels.