How big is our Jewish tent?

For weeks, maybe months now, I have struggled to write this essay. Here goes.

There has been so much written about the harm that happened on October 7th, and the harm that has happened since. That’s not what this essay is about. I am going to attempt to address the harm that has happened within the Jewish community since October 7th. Because I think it has been immense, and I fear we have no plan or path forward to heal it. So I have some questions.

How big is our Jewish tent? Who felt welcome to sit in our pews this Rosh Hashanah? And who didn’t come for fear they wouldn’t be welcomed or that they would no longer feel connected to the community?

There is an old saying that goes like this: “two Jews, three opinions”. What’s that about? The answer is simple. We Jews argue. All the time, with each other, and sometimes with ourselves. Spirited debate is woven into the fabric of our collective Jewish being. It’s even encouraged and expected. The decentralized nature of Jewish religious movements has birthed the idea that if you have a question and don’t like your rabbi’s answer, find another rabbi.

Speaking of rabbis, Rabbi Ruth Adar reflected on the “two Jews, three opinions” dynamic with the following: “…it is a well-known fact that Jews disagree. We differ, we argue, we nitpick, we split hairs, we pilpul. It’s part of who we are as a people. When we have done it badly, we have brought disaster down upon ourselves, but when we do it well, for the sake of heaven and the pursuit of truth, then it is truly sublime.”

I think we are doing it very badly right now, and that we have been doing it very badly since October 7th. I worry that we have a large proportion of younger Jews, and more than a few older ones, who have gotten the message that their views are too outside of what is considered acceptable Jewish stances to be welcomed into institutional Jewish spaces. I worry that there are Jews still engaged in institutional Jewish spaces that don’t feel they can speak to their true feelings, or that hard and messy conversations will be welcomed. For this essay, I want to focus specifically about our Jewish students on college campuses.

I don’t need to tell anyone how stressful spring semester was. As the mom of two Jewish college students, I spent a lot of time thinking about the protests and what safety was going to look like for my kids on campus. I absolutely want Jewish students to be safe on campus - whether they are sitting at Shabbat services at Hillel or sitting at an encampment protesting Israel’s actions in Gaza. And I feel very strongly that some of the messages from Jewish institutions, including those serving students on campus, caused harm to Jewish students who are really struggling with what’s happening in Gaza.

Months ago, an email from a Jewish organization at a school attended by one of my kids included the following statement: “When a cause aligns with terrorist organizations taking pride in these protests and actions, and when language calls for violence against an entire religion and people - this is not a fight for justice, but it is an embrace of hate”. I have deep issues with this messaging.

Campus protests have always included Jewish students who are there because they want the violence to stop. Because they want and need for our Jewish community to also hold the humanity of Palestinians as we grieve the losses of 10/7. While people may debate their tactics, there is one thing that is not up for debate. These are Jewish students. These are OUR Jewish students, and they are as much OUR Jewish students as the ones carrying Israeli flags on campus. To paint them with a broad brush and declare these students as aligned with terrorism and hate causes a great deal of harm. I know many of these students. I know young people who identify with If Not Now and young people who identify with AIPAC. They may have little in common in how they view Israel/Gaza, but one thing they all share is that they are Jews. To have a Jewish organization give the message that Jewish students embrace hate by participating in campus protests, essentially labeling them as antisemitic, ensures that those Jews will never feel comfortable at that organization again. For many, this discomfort is experienced as a loss - a loss of their Jewish home. That is profoundly disappointing to me, particularly when I think about how many of these students have been very active in the Jewish community. They are products of robust synagogue experiences, Jewish youth groups, and camps. And many of them question whether they will be welcome in those places - or in campus based Jewish organizations - again.

There has to be a way of holding Jewish students who are horrified by Hamas’ attack on 10/7/23 but are also horrified by the widespread death and destruction in Gaza. There has to be a way of seeing those students and acknowledging what they are struggling with. And if Jewish organizations on college campuses cannot do that, what Jewish space will?

As I spent the chagim reflecting on the year that has passed and what lies ahead, it is my sincere hope that Jewish institutions can be a place of welcoming for all of our Jewish youth across the range of feelings and responses to Israel. I believe our future as a community rests on that.

And if some of our youth - our future leaders - never feel welcomed in Jewish institutional spaces again, that would be another tragic result of 10/7. I think it is on us - the current leaders of the Jewish community - to grapple with this. They will be hard conversations, but ones that I very much want for us to have.

Count me in for building a tent that can hold all of this - and all of us.

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