You are never alone.
Over 100 years ago, the famed Yiddish author and playwright Sholem Aleichem penned the Yiddish comedy Shver tsu zayn a yid or Hard to Be a Jew. The play portrays two young men, one Russian, and one Jewish, who switch identities, and fall in love with the same girl. They end up at a Passover Seder where the police arrest them both. Aleichem’s play is meant to teach what many of us have come to know once again – it is indeed hard to be a Jew.
Over the last two years, and certainly in the last few months, the hardness has taken a stiffer edge. Antisemitism has exploded in Los Angeles. Two men were shot on their way home from synagogue and Paul Kessler was killed by a violent outburst at a rally he attended. When we add in other factors like the cost of living, our mental health crisis, and the displacement of Israelis because of the war it can feel even more difficult.
But let us remember that Aleichem’s play is a comedy, meant to help us laugh through our tears. The play also belies a much deeper truth.
Being Jewish is a gift.
I know of no other group of people on earth who dropped everything at a moment’s notice to fly halfway around the globe to rescue someone they have never met but whose story – and soul – they knew.
I know of no other group who paused a war with a sworn enemy to bring hostages home.
I know of no other collective who met the largest wave of hatred in modern history with the equally powerful force of the largest mobilization of our people in all of history.
From the moment we take our first breath to the moment we take our last, a caring Jewish professional is thinking of us. When we are considering early childhood, the Jewish community is there. When we are considering day school, religious school, or camp the Jewish community is there. When we arrive to campus and are not sure where to go, the Jewish community is there. When we are new in town and are not sure where to start as a young adult, the Jewish community is there. If we fall into economic straits and don’t know where to find our next meal, the Jewish community is there. When we feel unsafe because of antisemitism, we can feel less alone because the Jewish community is there. As we age and become infirm, we can be assured that our last years will be lived with dignity because the Jewish community is there. And in our last moments, we can take solace that our bodies will be buried with honor and grace because the Jewish community is there.
Our community and our Federation work every day for people at every age and stage so they know there is someone who loves you, thinks about you, and wants to help you. This is the greatest gift anyone can have – the gift of a life lived together.
While the world makes it hard to be a Jew, it’s our community that makes Jewish life a gift.
