By Maria Carson, Director of Jewish Life
I was eating a piece of cheese Danish in the Hillel House when I saw the news.
I was extremely happy to be eating and drinking: I had been abstaining from food and water for 25 hours to celebrate Yom Kippur. Yom Kippur is the day when the Jewish community atones for sins.
While it is a day of somber reflection, the traditional way to pray on Yom Kippur is not to list out the sins we have done. Instead, the traditional liturgy includes phrases such as “we have gossiped, we have run to do evil, we have been promiscuous, we have eaten and drank too much, we have maligned the poor.”
Of course, not everyone in the synagogue has done all of these particular sins, but that’s the point. We confess together, in the plural, knowing that some people in our community struggle with and have committed these scenes.
On Yom Kippur, a far-right extremist in Germany attempted to enter a synagogue to kill worshippers there.
The door was locked and barricaded so the man ran to a nearby kebab shop, where he killed two people. The shooter had written online that his goal was to “kill as many anti-whites as possible, jews preferred.”
I looked around the table. Students were happily eating and drinking their breakfast meal. I thought maybe I should say something before someone finds out themselves.
I am new in this position, and I felt inadequate. How do I share such news to my students while remaining calm, while looking like someone they could come to if they need support?
I made an announcement, feeling horrible to interrupt the happiness of the event.
In the wake of this event, we are called to do several things. First, we must mourn and remember the horrific deaths in Germany. Second, we must stand steadfast in our commitment to our Jewish communities and making them as welcoming and as safe as possible.
Third, we must stand with our other marginalized communities on our campus and in our communities, because we know that anti-semitism will continue to be linked with racism, sexism, Islamophobia, and homophobia.
Hate towards marginalized people is rarely confined to a narrow group: hate bleeds towards anyone who is perceived as different. We must atone and admit to the racism in our communities even if we ourselves are not racist.
As Rabbi Abraham Heschel wrote, “Few are guilty, but all are responsible.”
I believe it is the duty of the Jewish community to stand hand-in-hand with our other marginalized students on campus in the wake of hatred and disaster.
We will not stand for hatred that we know lurks in our nation. We will march together, through the metaphorical See of Reeds, towards peace.
May the memories of the departed be a source of happiness and a blessing to all who knew them.
