Who feels less safe?
Is it me, whose Jerusalem synagogue conducts prayer services with its doors wide open, without concern that Arab Muslims, who may very well sympathize with Hamas, drive freely around the neighborhood and even work across the street at the local health clinic and grocery store? Or is it Americans who need to use various codes and authentication methods to get past multiple perimeters of security in order to enter their synagogue?
Who feels less safe?
Me, who can barely get through a few days without sirens sending my family into a bomb shelter thanks to the Houthis (may they be obliterated speedily)? Or the average Coloradan Jew, who can navigate his day and sleep through the night without worry of ballistic missiles overhead?
Who feels less safe?
At our synagogue, the people on the front steps leading into the synagogue on Shabbat morning are little kids, cheerfully playing cards. At many Colorado synagogues, the people on the front steps leading into the synagogue are security personnel, amid ever-tightening security procedures.
Who feels less safe?
Me, who works in the West Bank, site of terror attacks on a consistent basis? Or the average Coloradan Jew who, aside from the sheer volume of random gun violence across America, felt anti-Semitic terror knock on his front door Shavuot eve?
Sunday’s firebombing attack in Boulder is the latest chapter — and closest to home — in what is quickly becoming a new era in American Jewish history. If the radical uptick in Jew-hatred and violent rhetoric since Oct. 7 was its dawn, the exhibition of actual, deadly violence in Washington, DC and Boulder demonstrates that the sun has fully risen on this new era.
These are some of the questions that immediately came to mind upon hearing of Sunday’s terror attack in Boulder. The answers, truthfully, don’t matter nearly as much as one basic fact: Jewish people worldwide, in our historical homeland and in the Diaspora, are under attack.
Many public figures have rightly called out the pervasive, violent anti-Semitic and anti-Israel rhetoric and the scandalously weak responses to it, as laying the groundwork for Sunday’s attack and others like it. That is their job and we thank them for it.
Our job in the aftermath of a tragedy, however, as Maimonides teaches, is to look inward. Of course the Jew-haters in their various guises are the perpetrators here, not only of the act, but of the environment which cultivated it. It is easy to assign blame to them and stop there. But we, and by we, I mean Israeli and Diaspora Jews alike, ought to look inward.
There is one other basic fact illustrated in this attack, which much of the Jewish world, across the spectrum, stubbornly tries to forget: Those who hate us do not care about our political affiliations, religious affiliations or ideological beliefs. They hate us because we are Jewish. Period.
We all remembered this basic fact on Oct. 8 and for a good few months afterwards. Slowly but surely, though, we have reverted back to our Oct. 6 selves. In some cases, I fear, to a version even worse than our Oct. 6 selves.
The upside of this basic fact is that we, too, should not care much about each other’s political affiliations, religious affiliations or ideological beliefs. This is not to say that we should mush into a monolithic group. We should passionately embrace what we find to be authentic Judaism! We should advocate for values we hold dear! However, when we see Jews whose values are diametrically opposed to ours, remember: they are Jews first, everything else is a distant second.
The tragic exception to this are Jews who stand together with those who advocate for violence against Israelis and Jews. Such people have essentially removed themselves from the Jewish people.
We just finished the period of the counting of the Omer, during which we mourn the loss of Rabbi Akiva’s 24,000 students. Their death, the Talmud teaches, was due to a lack of proper mutual respect. Torah study and Torah scholarship are the lifeblood of the Jewish nation, but without the requisite interpersonal respect, they were not worthy of existence.
The Midrash teaches that King Ahab, who worshipped idols and was wicked in many ways, saw greater success in his wars than the righteous King David. Why? Because the people in his time displayed greater unity.
In practical terms, a possible takeaway is that we should keep our disagreements internal, within Jewish frameworks. However many issues one has with the current Israeli government and Netanyahu’s approach to this war — and despite leaning conservative, I have many such issues — but those issues should never be aired publicly. If you live in the Diaspora and are driven to protest the Netanyahu government? Book a flight, fly to Tel Aviv and join the protests on Kaplan. Better yet, make aliyah and give yourself a vote in Israel’s elections next year. But don’t do it from the Diaspora.
Also, and this is perhaps most relevant for Israelis, don’t put it on social media and don’t issue statements to the effect of “I am against XYZ.” The world does not need to know that you are the “good type” of Jew/Israeli, who distances himself from the “bad type” of Jew/Israeli.
The world needs to know you are a Jew, and that you stand with Israelis and Jews of all stripes, even if you have radical disagreements with them.
When one feels it is important to clarify exactly which stances one distances oneself from, keep in mind: two things can be true. In that spirit, consider writing something to the effect of: “Though I strongly disagree with the current Israeli government about X,Y, and Z and believe new elections are needed, I more strongly affirm Israel’s right to self-defense and the need for international pressure to remove Hamas from power and release the hostages.”
Or, “I am utterly horrified by Yair Golan’s recent libelous comments aabout Israel killing babies for a hobby, and believe he should be stripped of his military rank, yet I recognize that he ran into the line of fire on Oct. 7, killing Hamas terrorists and saving Israeli civilians. I trust that Israel’s democratic elections will demonstrate whether he represents the voice of its people.”
As for the questions I began with, I can only speak for myself, but I unquestionably feel safer in Israel than in America.
The combat soldiers in the IDF may feel differently. We owe them endless appreciation for the protection they afford us. For the first time in 2,000 years, G-d has blessed us with the ability to defend ourselves in our historic homeland, something we’ve perhaps lost full appreciation for.
If you haven’t visited Israel since the war began, take the plunge. Bask in the modern miracle that is Israel — war, warts, and all. You won’t regret it.
© IJN 2025
