About Anti-Semitism and Finding The Way Home

When we think of anti-Semitism, Europe usually pops to mind. We think about swastikas being drawn on Jewish tombs, houses or places of business, about terror attacks at synagogues, or hate-filled protest. But even as we think about it, it seems like something that happens far away from us, to other people. I remember the first time modern-day anti-Semitism finally got real for me, as a casual conversation at a bar burned into a revealing speech, where my friend shared her memories from her childhood in Moscow, Russia.

We were all watching the Olympics together; when at some point we couldn't help ignoring the obvious and mentioned the rather poor Israeli achievements there. Like good patriots, we started analyzing the situation in order to find a proper explanation, with the realization that Israel is not grooming sports like other countries, because unlike many other places, most of our state funds go to security. Then we started laughing, because it is always the best solution when the issue of the always increasing security funding comes up. Suddenly, My Friend, Guly, said: “I must say that Israel is the safest place I know, and I couldn't be more proud of my country.”

You could almost see the question marks above our heads, because none of us have ever defined Israel as a safe place.  With an ongoing existence threat and a decreasing trust in our state leaders, all we ever do is laugh or cry, and threaten to “get the hell out of here.” At first, we all focused on how it is “so like her” to say such things, because she is an extreme optimist, but the speech that followed that sentence, none of us saw coming.

She told us that the reason she feels so safe here is because she can now leave her house without fearing for her life. To her, a nuclear threat from a neighboring country is nothing compared to the actual fear of being a Jew and walking down the streets of Moscow. She told us about her school uniform, which had a Star of David sewed in its jacket. They would wear it with pride, but could not leave school without taking the jacket off and shoving it deep inside their schoolbags. She told us about her friend, who was very good looking, until he was in the wrong place at the wrong time. The young boy was brutally beaten up by bullies, when his only crime was his religion. She told us he went through numerous surgeries to fix his face, and that now he finally looks like a person, but his handsome face is lost forever. The worst part, she said, was that there were policemen who witnessed this whole thing, but did nothing.

At that point, we were all speachless, but to what she had to say next, none of us was prepared: she told us that as if walking down the streets wasn't scary enough, there was one day, called “Skinhead Day,” when it was best for all Jews to stay inside their houses.  On this day, which was familiar to the authorities, all Skinheads and other haters would roam the streets, shatter display windows and beat up people as they wish. The formal recommendation for all Jews was to simply stay at home, where they were safe.

That speech she made really opened my eyes to what I thought was long gone in most parts of the world- the daily fear of being a Jew. Once again, I realized all my complaints about the heat, the politicians and the many threats are nothing in comparison to what other people have experienced. Once again, I am grateful for having Israel as my home.  Now I will let the words of my friend, whom I look up to for all she had been through, conclude this post: “I don't know what about you guys, but I don't have enough words in my Hebrew vocabulary to express my joy from living in Israel. Here we all love each other and stand together. Here we are safe from hate.”

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