All the tears

After holding our breath for much of that Shabbat in January, Jews around the world–and our allies–took a collective exhale when we heard news of the resolution we’d been praying for. Our newsfeeds buzzed with the announcement that all four hostages held during an 11-hour standoff with an armed assailant at a synagogue in Colleyville, Texas–during a live streamed Shabbat service–had made it out safely.

As I write these thoughts hours after the hostages escaped–and hours before we as a nation honored civil rights leader Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. who fought bigotry with words, not weapons–my eyes well with tears.

Are these tears of joy? Or are they tears of sorrow? The answer–yes and yes.

Tears of joy that the Rabbi Charlie Cytron-Walker–who has been described as the ultimate mensch by all who know him–and his three congregants got to go home that Saturday night to hug their families.

Tears of joy that this was the best possible outcome of this nightmare.

Tears of joy that the courageous hostages knew exactly when, where, and how to escape because of the security training provided to Jewish institutions and individuals.

Tears of joy and gratitude for the skill, precision, and heroism demonstrated by law enforcement officers who managed to help resolve the standoff with no innocent lives lost.

Tears of joy that we in Chicago are part of a community that is taking pro-active steps to ensure that everyone can safely participate in Jewish life. JUF has launched a new initiative, Live Secure Chicago, to enable us to extend our expertise and support to every Jewish school, synagogue, and agency in our community. This latest security initiative builds on decades of security support JUF has provided to many Jewish institutions across our community.

Yet, these are tears of sorrow, too, that our community is forced to prioritize security and take part in active shooter trainings in the first place.

Tears of sorrow that here we are again. Once again, someone was filled with enough hate to storm into a synagogue on Shabbat morning and terrorize the rabbi, his congregants, their loved ones, and the Jewish community at large.

Tears of sorrow that media used the term “unharmed” to describe the hostages, when we know that this saga will forever traumatize them.

Tears of sorrow that at so many other times in history, similar episodes didn’t turn out with the happy ending this one did.

Tears of sorrow that antisemitism isn’t just a part of our history, but very much a part of our present, which we witness playing out daily on social media, on college campuses, and beyond.

Tears of sorrow that children, including my own pint-sized Jewish daughters, will learn way too young that–along with so many beautiful parts of being Jewish–there is also a tragic mantle that we Jews, the target of hatred by so many, must carry.

Tears of sorrow that just as wearing a mask during the pandemic has become rote for all children, Jewish children don’t flinch when they see armed guards and metal detectors at Jewish institutions and community events.

And tears of sorrow that I can’t even count the number of times I’ve had to sit down and write something like this after another attack against the Jewish people. After Squirrel Hill. After Poway. After Overland Park. After the Hypercacher market in Paris. After too many attacks in Israel to remember. And the list goes on and on and on.

When the assailant stormed the synagogue, the congregants had been davening the section of the Amidah prayer called Elohai Netzor , which contains this line: “For all those thinking to do evil to me, quicky ruin their plans and confound their thoughts.”

Let’s add to our prayers a hope that one day that line in the Amidah won’t be so perfectly apt and–in this case–prescient. Maybe one day we won’t so often have to temper our tears of joy with tears of sorrow.

An earlier version of this column appeared on Jan. 19, 2022 in the Chicago Tribune.