Antisemitism: How am I supposed to explain this?

BY SAM BORDEN

Six months ago, Rabbi Charlie Cytron-Walker was just trying to stay alive. His synagogue had been breached. A man with a gun was shouting. Rabbi Charlie and a group of congregants were hostages.

Yet even amid the fear of the 11-hour ordeal that unfolded outside Dallas back in January, Rabbi Charlie was still able to recognize, in that moment, that however everything ended, the trauma of the situation he was living through wouldn’t be limited to just the people in the room.

It couldn’t. It was playing out right there on his computer screen.

“Honestly, I thought of it while it was happening,” he said recently. “All the comments and people posting — there was no doubt that what was happening to us was being felt and would be felt by so many Jews.”

In a quirk of pandemic-era worship, thousands of people began following the livestream of Congregation Beth Israel’s Shabbat service on that Saturday once news broke that a gunman had entered the synagogue, delivered an antisemitic screed, and demanded the release of an Islamic extremist from a nearby prison. And after Rabbi Charlie helped defuse the situation so he and the other hostages could escape unharmed, he was able to process the meaning of the online audience. He was able to realize that in addition to being incredibly supportive, it was also an acute affirmation of a truth that he and so many Jews are feeling more and more these days: in the

RABBI CHARLIE CYTRON-WALKER

hyperaware, news-at-your-fingertips world of the 21st century, the trickle-down effects of antisemitism have never been stronger.

Now, the ramifications of that trickle-down are certainly universal. But even beyond the personal anxieties it inspires in people of all ages, there is also a very specific set of issues it presents for young Jewish families — a reality that Rabbi Charlie and others talked about in a recent PJ Library Conversations, a series of virtual discussions for donors.

Among the issues they talked about were the two questions that Jewish parents in the digital age find themselves confronting over and over: How do I tell my children about the latest terrible thing that just happened? And how do I make them aware of rising antisemitism without making them scared of being Jewish?

SO MANY SYNAGOGUES in the United States have a similar feature in 2022: police on the property. And while most congregants appreciate the commitment to tangible safety and security measures, those measures also come with a new set of concerns for parents. The presence of police and openness about escape plans or active-shooter responses may reduce worries about physical harm, but there is a psychological cost, especially in children, that comes with it.

Will seeing officers with guns outside their synagogue change the way kids feel about being Jewish? Will it make them think their religion is unsafe? Or dangerous? And what about when they hear about how someone was harmed because they wore a yarmulke or kept kosher or lit candles?

“Antisemitism is a defining experience,” said Ilana Garber, who spent 15 years as the assistant rabbi at Beth El Temple in West Hartford, Connecticut, and now is the director of global rabbinic development at the Rabbinical Assembly. She also has two boys.

“The question parents have to answer is, What else is defining?” she continued. “How big or how small do we make that particular piece?”

It is easy, Garber added, to come at Jewish identity from a place of caution or fear or guilt. So many Generation X and Generation Y Jews in the United States, in particular, were raised in homes where that type of attitude proliferated. A focus on the negative history — or the possibility that such negative history might repeat itself — framed being Jewish in a light that was more about victimhood than celebration or even faith.

For many parents of young children now, though, that isn’t the headspace in which they want their children to live. And so there are questions about how, exactly, to position Judaism in the context of something brighter. Something more enriching. Something that flows from a place of warmth as opposed to a history of persecution or pain, even while acknowledging there will continue to be excruciating moments. As Garber said, “I don’t believe in a Judaism that comes out of the Holocaust just like I don’t believe in an America that comes out of 9/11.”

Rabbi Charlie feels the same. He understands the place parents are coming from when they say they are troubled about raising their children in a world of rising antisemitism.

But the best thing those parents can do, he said, is to revise the question. “I think parents

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are always going to have to talk to their kids about the fact that not everyone likes them. But antisemitism is so much easier to deal with when there’s a strong sense of self. When there’s a strong identity, it makes it much, much easier to cope,” Rabbi Charlie said. “So the question for parents is, What are we doing to give our kids that foundation of identity?”

NOT SURPRISINGLY, the antisemitic incidents that get the most attention in the United States are the most violent ones, the ones where people (and synagogues) are under direct physical attack. This isn’t unusual; violence is often the focus of the news media.

But the truth is, the vast majority of Jews will never be involved in anything quite so harrowing. They’ll likely never even be close to something like that. Because, for most people most of the time, antisemitic incidents are far more subtle. More personal. More emotional.

Rabbi Charlie recalled an incident in Texas where middle schoolers took cans of Axe body spray, spritzed them in the air toward a Jewish classmate, and shouted, “Let’s gas the Jew!” Garber remembered an episode at a local high school where a student found a swastika made from classroom materials on her desk. These kinds of aggressions are everywhere.

The scars for those incidents are internal but linger all the same. And that is why building a foundation of Jewish pride is so critical for kids, Rabbi Charlie said. Making Shabbat a part of the family’s weekly routine — and lighting the candles even if guests are visiting — can be a critical brick in that build. Celebrating holidays or going to community events or making matzah balls do the same. “This is how we do the mitzvah of teaching our children,” he said.

But parents should know that not all the construction is so direct. Reaching children on their own terms is valuable too. During the PJ Library Conversations discussion, Rabbi Charlie was joined by Jeff Finkelstein, president and CEO of the Jewish Federation of Greater Pittsburgh, and Catriella Freedman, PJ Library’s director of author and illustrator stewardship.

Freedman was emphatic in highlighting the value that stories can have in helping children feel proud of their religion. “We’ve really made an effort at PJ Library to make sure that kids are seeing themselves,” she said, “no matter what background and culture and Jewish community they’re coming from.”

In a separate interview, Freedman said it doesn’t matter whether the subject matter is specifically Jewish. The key is that the child makes a connection between what they’re reading and themselves; once that happens, the sentiment behind the text will stick.

“As kids get older, books become a way for them to role-play,” she said. “They identify with protagonists; they identify with characters. It becomes a natural outgrowth.

“Essentially, PJ Library’s impact goes beyond the physical pages of a book. It’s really about building positive identity. By giving families the tools to celebrate Jewish life and access Jewish community, we are also giving them paths for approaching crisis. When people feel comfortable and feel like they have a sense of joy that comes with Jewish identity, then when something difficult happens, they feel like they have a way to respond.”

One PJ Library book that Rabbi Charlie always thinks about fondly is The Only One Club, a story about a girl who is the only Jew in her first-grade class. Rabbi Charlie grew up in Lansing, Michigan, where he was “the only Jew in my school other than my siblings,” so the book resonated with his personal history. Learning to be comfortable in those kinds of situations takes work, he said, and similar circumstances are common for kids growing up outside of traditionally Jewish-heavy population areas. “Especially in smaller areas, it’s really important to have that sense of Jewish identity because when you have that sense of self it makes the idea of dealing with the difficulties easier,” Rabbi Charlie said. “We know bad things are going to happen at some point in life. So it’s about building up that ability to deal with it.”

IN THE DAYS AND WEEKS after the 2018 tragedy at the Tree of Life Congregation in Pittsburgh, where 11 people were killed, Finkelstein was surrounded by grief. He went to funerals. He went to shivas. He checked in

CATRIELLA FREEDMAN

on survivors and their family members. It was, as he said, simply brutal.

But one of the things that makes Finkelstein proud when he thinks about that time is what happened on Monday, two days after the attack. “We were really focusing on showing resilience in the community — we wanted Jews showing up for Jewish life. We didn’t want Jews to be scared,” he said. “And on Monday morning, the JCC preschool — just a few blocks away — was full. All but one family showed up that morning, even though the FBI was working out of that building. It didn’t matter. They were part of the community, and they were going to go to school.”

That togetherness, obviously, is especially meaningful in the aftermath of a traumatic event, when people are desperate for the support that can only come with shared emotion. But for young Jews, a feeling of community is imperative, too, in everyday life. Children want to belong, want to fit in, want to feel like they are a part of a bigger entity than just themselves. As the president Creating and nurturing a Jewish identity, then, must also include the development of an attachment to something larger. “So much of our identity comes from the community around and CEO of the Jewish Federation of Greater Pittsburgh, us,” Garber said. “As adults, we know that, Jeff Finkelstein right? And kids are the same way. It doesn’t have to be dramatic. Knowing that someone else is reading those books that they’re reading or going to the same events they’re going to — played a large role in comforting the community after the Tree of Life tragedy that makes a huge difference. Even if it’s just in 2018. one or two other people, it matters.” PHOTO BY

Engaging with the Jewish community is a JOSHUA FRANZOS choice that almost always falls on the parents. And the larger point Garber made is that while it absolutely matters if one is active in the community after a tragedy or other dramatic event, the work of growing a budding Jewish identity in your child almost surely comes through something more mundane, “something regular.”

Yes, of course, lean on the community when emotion demands it, she said. But the weekto-week routine, the monthly gatherings, the consistent interactions that feel like they’re just part of life are the ones that will resonate. Those are the ones that will serve a child best if and when being Jewish doesn’t feel so easy.

Rabbi Charlie shares that sentiment. “That is what it means to live our values. Living our values is one of the most important things we can do. If we value Jewish community, then we have to make it part of our life,” he said. If parents do that, he continued, it will seep down. It will be accepted by their kids. It will make a difference in how they feel about themselves and their religion. It will matter. Parents can’t control who says something rude or hateful. And they can’t control who wants to hurt someone or scare someone. What they can control is what they feel pride in. And how they model a commitment to being a meaningful companion. When asked what he would say to a child who wanted to understand antisemitism, Rabbi Charlie paused for a moment. “I would say to that child that unfortunately there are people who don’t like other people for lots of different reasons,” he said finally. “And that I can’t answer why that is.” He smiled. “But I can tell you that because that does happen, that’s why we need a really wonderful and diverse group of people who love us and support us. That’s why we

FOR MORE INSIGHT from need to be proud of who we are.”

If you had told me that I would be Jewish, married, and raising a daughter in the Jewish community of New Haven, Connecticut, by my 30s, I would have thought you had lost your mind. And yet, here I am, and I could not be happier.

I grew up as a Southern Baptist kid in Texas.

When I met my husband at a Christian college, we quickly wed and planned to devote our lives to Bible translation and church planting in Papua New Guinea. As he studied Greek and we both studied Hebrew, we started to ask a lot of hard questions. I still remember sitting in a bamboo hut in the rain forest as we discussed what it meant to no longer believe in what we were doing and what it would look like if we abandoned a belief system that we held on to so tightly. Ultimately, we left our mission organization and determined that further education would be the next step. My husband was accepted into a university in Dallas.

One day, a visiting Orthodox rabbi was available for Q&A at the university. My husband mentioned he was Jewish by birth but was not raised in the religion. They began regularly meeting over Skype, and through these meetings my husband discovered he had many relatives in the Orthodox community, primarily in New Jersey and Israel. We also got connected with the local Orthodox community. I’ll never forget sitting at the rabbi’s table for Shabbat, watching him bless his children and experiencing the warmth and love. I immediately felt at home with Judaism.

Fast-forward through many Shabbats and many questions asked. My husband was accepted to a master’s program in religious studies at Yale University, and we were off to Connecticut. Our rabbi from Dallas helped us get connected, and once I had my sponsoring rabbi, I began the process of an Orthodox conversion to Judaism. After spending a month in Israel, we finally had our Jewish wedding on the week of our 10th anniversary.

That same month, I began working for the Jewish Federation of Greater New Haven. It wasn’t long before we welcomed our daughter, Naomi Hadassah. PJ Library immediately became a wealth of information and connection for me in my new journey of raising a Jewish daughter.

I soon transitioned into the role of family outreach coordinator and officially became a PJ Library program professional. Nothing could offer more job satisfaction than having the platform to connect with other families with diverse stories and backgrounds. I have enjoyed playing matchmaker for new parents looking for connection in their community.

More than anything, I am grateful for the gift of Jewish children’s books from PJ Library and the gift of inclusivity and welcoming, lowbarrier Jewish education that always has a bit of surprise and delight along the way.

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My husband Norman z”l and I enjoyed celebrating the Jewish holidays and creating family traditions. It was a way to share our Jewish heritage and customs.

I continue to support PJ Library because it makes Judaism accessible and helps families create their own warm memories. I like that the program gives young families the ability to learn about Jewish customs through the free books, and they can participate in programs such as listening to podcasts or attending online Havdalah events.

PJ Library is wonderful for adults, too, and creates opportunities for conversation about living Jewishly. I am proud to be involved with a program that helps families “do Jewish” and contributes to a vibrant Jewish future.

L’dor vador, from one generation to another.

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HEIDI HURWITZ

Iremember when I was just starting my family and thinking about how kids don’t come into this world with an instruction manual. How was I supposed to know how to raise them and keep them safe, healthy, and educated? How would I bring them up with a strong Jewish identity? Unfortunately for my children — and me — PJ Library did not yet exist. Among my peers, those fortunate to come from strongly identified Jewish backgrounds found pathways to Jewish life, but those who did not often drifted away.

With the greatest appreciation to PJ Library, today’s lived experience is infinitely better. PJ Library brings the joy of Judaism to families raising Jewish kids. It provides an opportunity for the whole family to see the world through a Jewish lens based upon Jewish values. The books and materials benefit everyone.

The monthly packages from PJ Library are

COURTESY PHOTO amazing, and their impact is elevated in combination with meaningful programming, support, and connection on the local level. Greater New Haven in Connecticut has benefited from PJ Library since its inception in 2005, and the level of engagement we are enjoying today is unparalleled. For the community, PJ Library is a trusted and identifiable brand that opens the possibilities of collaboration and partnership with congregations and groups. PJ Library is a tangible and relatable investment of community philanthropy in action.

We could not be happier to be part of the PJ Library family and look forward to much continued growth and success.

with the Jewish community. Our family learned about PJ Library from the Jewish Federation of Greater Houston, and we found that the program connected our passions of supporting both the Jewish community and education. We knew of the local PJ Library program but didn’t realize how global it was.

We ultimately decided to make a lead gift to endow PJ Library in Houston. It’s a legacy that would make our grandfather proud.

Tracy Northington, Granddaughter of Morris Glesby

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life, Jerry Spitz. We united our two families and our five children. Jerry and I shared similar views on Jewish family life, Jewish community, and philanthropy. Our kids? Not so much.

When Jerry was diagnosed with a terminal illness, we started planning for our family’s future. We knew our legacy was instilling Jewish philanthropy into the hearts of our children, and we started the Spitz Tuchman Charitable Trust. Our children were designated as advisers. I soon learned about PJ Library and wanted to enroll my grandchildren in Denver, but PJ Library was not yet there. I had the books sent to my home in Connecticut and then forwarded them to Denver. The grandkids, their mother — Danielle — and I all loved the books.

The following year when it was time to decide on which gifts to give from our trust, Danielle made a great case for helping to start PJ Library in Denver. We offered Denver seed money in 2012, which inspired its bigger fundraising efforts.

Danielle attended the kickoff luncheon where PJ Library founder Harold Grinspoon spoke with passion. Danielle got it. Her enthusiasm was contagious, and since then our family has been passionate about funding PJ Library in our local communities.

This past year, I watched PJ Library expand globally at a breakneck speed. When we were asked to be founding donors of the PJ Library International Fund, we were all on board. This initiative provides a feeling of belonging to a larger family and of being a part of the worldwide community of Jews. If there is a pen-pal component, count us in!

PHOTO BY ROBERTO FALCK PHOTOGRAPHY Lauren Spitz, Spitz Tuchman Charitable Trust