Anger, fear and the danger of silence in face of antisemitism

When I was growing up, Hebrew School teachers and camp counselors used to tell us that understanding Hebrew and knowing the basics of daily and Sabbath prayer services meant we could walk into a synagogue anywhere in the world and participate — help make a minyan, the required congregation, observe a holiday, or find a place to say kaddish, the mourners’ prayer. And it was true; the tunes might be different and the cadence of the service might vary a bit, but we had the tools to join a congregation anywhere in the world.

This is no longer the case — not because the service or the language has changed but because you cannot just walk into a synagogue anywhere in the world, the country, or even this city. Instead, there will be security guards, guest lists, key fobs, metal detectors, check-in lines and more. Last year, when I went to Italy, we had to pre-register to visit a synagogue, submit our passports in advance, arrive only at a specific time and go through security to enter.

Just days after the shooting at the Jewish Museum in Washington, D.C., I heard a colleague say that his kids had never entered a synagogue without seeing an armed guard. I realized that my kids and many others had never entered their preschool, elementary school, campgrounds, museums, Bar Mitzvah services and parties and any Jewish communal event without seeing armed guards. And they never will. This is shocking to non-Jewish visitors who attend weddings, baby namings or B’nai mitzvahs. It is not their experience at their houses of worship. To be clear, it shouldn’t be anyone’s.

Unfortunately, this has become the norm — an accepted standard operating procedure. But nothing about this is normal. No one should have to be in fear when they gather for religious worship or to be in community. Everyone should be safe and feel safe when they are exercising their rights to freedom of religion, freedom of assembly, freedom of speech. The exercise of those rights cannot and must not be allowed to infringe on the rights of others. These basic principles have become twisted, and the Jewish community has had to bend to this reality.

Jews should not have to fear that someone else’s hate-filled rhetoric will transform into action or incite others to violence. But we do. Jews should not have to fear that any gathering in public spaces can put their families at risk. But we do. Jewish congregations and organizations should not have to budget millions of dollars for security upgrades, taking away funds that could be used for education, programming, or social services. But we do.

This is unacceptable. And it is, simply put, antisemitic.

I’ve dedicated my career to fighting for justice and against violence and hate. I’ve always believed that better speech is the antidote to hate speech. But we can’t be blind to what unchecked hate-filled rhetoric is fueling. Nor can we accept Washington D.C. and Boulder as inevitable, expected or normal.

My community is in mourning again, despondent, afraid. I am furious.

Everyone should be. All communities should be speaking out in solidarity with their Jewish neighbors; community leaders must raise their voices to call this unacceptable and demand change.

After the horrific 2018 massacre at the Tree of Life Synagogue in Pittsburgh, faith communities and civic groups lined up outside synagogues to demonstrate to their neighbors that they were supported and would be protected. We need to see that show of support now. Not just in Washington or Boulder, but everywhere.

Too many, however, have been silent. Silence means acquiescence. It is at least a tacit acknowledgment that this is the price we pay for free speech — that some communities will be in physical danger. But that was never the deal. Silence now — especially as others defend or even celebrate this violence — is something worse.

• Shira Goodman, of Chicago, is vice president for advocacy at the Anti-Defamation League.