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I walk through Party City, looking for the Hanukkah decorations. I pass the rows and rows of Christmas and New Year's Eve items, stopping briefly to contemplate buying my kids some reindeer antlers or Santa hats so they'll have something to wear to school when all the other kids will participate in the theme days counting down to winter break. Deciding not to, I continue looking for the Hanukkah aisle, and I find what I'm looking for on a small aisle and end cap. I just need some Hanukkah plates for our party this week. My options are pretty meager, so I round the corner just to make sure that I'm not missing any other choices. I turn around and come back towards the pathetic selection, and I feel an enormous sense of dread as I stop to pick out some plates. I don't want anyone to see me. A male employee is shelving some costumes behind me and pauses to ask if I need help. I smile quickly at him and say, "No, thank you. I'm good." Then a customer asks the employee a question. Meanwhile, the loudness in my head is saying, "Amber! Go, go, go. Quick, get out of this section! Yep, I'm the Jew here. Everyone come take a look. There's a JEW in the store." But, I quietly and calmly move to the blue decor to select utensils and cups - a safer place in the store, unless the items in my cart are visible to others. And now I have to check out. I turn the items upside down so the cashier can more easily scan the barcodes. But really, I'm hiding my plates and the one little silly Hanukkah headband I bought so maybe one of my kids will choose to participate in the theme days. "Thank you," I say to the cashier after he bags my items, and I head to my car wondering what awful things he is thinking about me. 

This is what it's like in my head these days as a Jewish person. I've always been proud of who I am, and I've taught my kids to do the same. But, lately, hearing the increased antisemitic rhetoric that's been in our faces all my life since October 7th, I'm just not sure where I'm safe to show I'm Jewish. I tell myself that no one in that store was thinking anything negative at all, but then I wonder if it matters what they are thinking. The fact that I even wonder or feel less-than is the problem. 

Jews around the world are having discussion after discussion - both with their community members and within themselves - about what is going on in Israel. I'm no rabbi or Jewish scholar, but I am an educated Jew - grew up going to Sunday School from Consecration to Confirmation, attended or worked at Jewish summer camps every.single.summer from preschool through college, had a bat mitzvah, lived at a Jewish sorority house, spent 4 years deeply active in a Jewish youth group in high school, had a foundation of observing traditions and holidays at home with family, spent 6 weeks traveling in Israel, have been to numerous Holocaust museums, heard first-hand stories from family members who survived the ghettos and the camps in Poland, sit on committees at my Temple, and have experienced every life cycle event rooted in Jewish tradition. Yet, I have so many questions about what is going on in Israel, feel deeply confused, and struggle with the internal conflict I'm feeling as an American Jew. I've attended 4 organized discussions about Israel in order to help myself understand, and I still am not sure what to think. 

Some of my questions have been answered, others remain. I'm finding myself so sick of this subject, but I can't look away. I'm not allowed to as a Jew. I have a need (rooted in anxiety) to know as much as I can in order to feel in control, and yet I can't control any of this situation. Therefore, I'm never satisfied. I need to know what to tell my kids. I need to know what they might hear or see. I need to be able to understand "both sides" of this conflict so I can understand what people are talking about - or why they're not talking at all. 

Why ARE they not talking at all? What is it I'm not understanding? What is so hard about condemning terrorism? What is so wrong about publicly stating that what happened in Israel on October 7th is pure evil? Why are people not speaking up for my people? I can't NOT say something, so how is it so easy for some people to stay quiet??

I'm part of a mental health advisory board at my Temple. At the end of our last meeting, we were asked to state one feeling we were having given the current situation in Israel. Here are the words I heard: confused, anger, lonely, unsupported, conflicted, worried, unsafe, mad, panic, hopeless, ignored, shock, helpless, horrified, shattered, fractured. This is how our community is feeling. 

We can't NOT discuss it. Everyone else seems to be able to just go on with their lives, unmoved by the disastrous events taking place where nearly every Jew knows someone who's been affected personally by the events of October 7th and the aftermath. We talk about Zionism - what is it and is it okay to be unsure how we feel about it? We talk about Israeli politics - do we agree with Netanyahu? We talk about how our kids are coping - are they feeling safe at school, at home, in public? We learn about Hamas together. We share things we've heard. We discuss what is meant by various people shouting "ceasefire," "from the river to the sea, Palestine will be free," and "free Palestine." We share our thoughts about keffiyehs and Palestinian flags being worn at school, what constitutes hate speech vs freedom of speech, and what our administrators should be doing to protect our Jewish kids. We evaluate Israel's response and what we think should happen next. We question the "Kidnapped" posters all over our young neighborhood, wondering if that's really the way to spread awareness. 

I've been so very internally torn about how I feel about Israel. I question my connection and wonder why everyone feels so compelled to say that without Israel, Jews can't exist. I never understood when my dear friend would say this to me over and over again. Until yesterday. I had an epiphany while watching, of all things, a Hanukkah YouTube video - a parody of a Taylor Swift song. At the end of the video, there are images of Israeli soldiers hugging, dancing, holding up the Torah, lighting a menorah, or just celebrating together as the lyrics play on screen: "I think about the forces in the dark, extinguishing our light. I give my gratitude to those fighting for what's right. I won't let what is wrong interfere with all my dreams, feeling pride where I belong 'cause I know what it means." Then, the video cuts to the group playing dreidel around a dining room table, joyously celebrating Hanukkah and singing about latkes frying in the oil.  I had chills watching the juxtaposition of these images, and that's when I finally fully understood what my friend has been saying. I thought about those soldiers on the front lines, defending Israel and the Jewish people who live there. They are the first line of defense. They are literally putting their lives on the line so that Israelis can continue to have their celebrations, their traditions, their LIVES. Without them, Jews around the world are at risk. Without the IDF and the support given to them from around the world, Jews in the diaspora would immediately be targeted by terrorist groups in any and every nation. I suddenly felt an overwhelming feeling of gratitude for what the IDF is doing - saying FUCK YOU, BACK OFF, and LEAVE US THE FUCK ALONE! No one did that in 1939. No one did that when Jews were being hauled off to ghettos or concentration camps. I'm beyond thankful that someone is doing that now.

"Why do they hate us?" That is the question. The question I can't answer. I can give satisfactory answers to why Hitler scapegoated, but going back and back and back and back - throughout the centuries. I just don't have the answers. I don't know what my people ever did to deserve so much hatred, to earn all the holidays that celebrate defeating groups (the Greeks, the Egyptians, the Persians...) who wanted to kill/destroy/enslave us long before Jesus even entered the scene. And I don't know how to explain this to my kids when I don't have the answers. I'm trying to navigate that one of my kids wants to wear his Star of David necklace and another wants him to hide it in his shirt or why one wants to decorate for Hanukkah and the other doesn't want anyone in the neighborhood to know we're Jewish. And I feel both sides of this myself. So there it is - the dichotomy of pride and fear that I felt in that store: gratitude that this store sells Hanukkah items, satisfaction that I found what I needed, but feeling like all eyes were on me (even when they weren't) and not knowing if I'm safe. 

And that's really the main question, isn't it? Am I safe? Is my neighborhood safe? Are my children safe? Am I safe with you as my friend? So many other groups have had to ask themselves these same questions, and we have stood side by side with them telling them that they are safe with us - that we love them for who they are no matter what. We've told them we will stand up for them, stand by their sides, and publicly fight for their right to exist and be free to be themselves in every setting. We've put targets on our houses by showing who we vote for, stating what we believe in, and what we support. But, now, with a mezuzah affixed to my doorway, or a Happy Hanukkah sign in the yard, it feels different. Those same people we supported are not standing with us in our time of need, so we continue to ask "Am I safe?" 

If you're asking yourself if I'm talking about you, just ask yourself if you've done enough - done ANYTHING - to publicly support your Jewish friends, support Israel, condemn terrorism, denounce Hamas, demand innocent Israeli hostages be released... The silence of our non-Jewish friends is another thing we notice - loudly and clearly, so if you aren't sure where you fall, err on the side of taking a moment to share your support, to check on a Jewish friend (not me - I'm already telling you how I feel), to reflect on what more you can do to be a safe person for the Jewish community. A non-Jewish friend of mine took her son to the Holocaust museum and posted about it. That meant SO much to me and my Jewish friends. Another wrote a heartfelt letter and posted it on Facebook. I've gotten texts and calls from friends. It's NOT too late to make a statement, share a post, make a call, send a text. And if anyone wants to talk more about this, I'm here. I may be "talked out," but like I said before, we can't NOT talk about it. We cannot look away.