A synagogue under fire, the body count climbing. 

Several reactions rose within me simultaneously, the reactions shaped by the different lenses of my life. 

The first is the lens of Mother. The mother in me weeps, both for the dead and their families and for the Jewish community around the country. I feel the pain of our matriarch Rachel, weeping in Ramah. Someone’s child is not coming home tonight. I want to smother my children with kisses and hug them forever. I want to shield them from anti-Semitism and hatred, protect them from all harm.

I struggle to contain my tears today in their presence, lest the innocence of childhood disappear too soon. My chest burns with sorrow and grief, both for those rattled by hatred and for the next generation that inherits this balagan. I’m sorry, my children. We failed you. 

The second lens is that of Leader. I want to find words to comfort the grieving, the balm of hope to encourage the community not to live in fear. I want to live as an example: all is not lost, this is not our New Normal, we have survived millennia and shall survive this. For this I turn to our holy texts, to the voices of those more steeped in wisdom. God is close to the broken-hearted; weeping may remain for the night, but rejoicing comes with the day.

I have to discuss the lens I am loathe to include, the smeared lens of my reptilian brain, the one that screams at the sky for vengeance and the blood of the terrorist. It’s a part of me, and to exclude it would be to deny my reality. When contemplating the knee jerk from this viewpoint, I remind myself that actions from reptilian brains cause hatred and destruction. We are better than this. If we meet hatred with its kind, we only create more hatred. No more.

So, what do we do? We honor the dead. We include their names with the names on our own shiva and sh’loshim lists, that their memories also be for blessing. We comfort the living, that we may help them through the darkness of their nightmares. We educate others on what our faith actually entails. Open the dialogue, open the tent, that through education and love we may one day erase the poison of hatred.

For tonight, though, I hold my children and remember words from prayers of peace: May the One who makes peace in the high heavens make peace for us, for all Israel and all who inhabit the earth. Amen.

Jenifer Newmark, Vice President of United Hebrew Congregation, lives in Creve Coeur with her husband and twin boys.