My friends in Durango ask me what it’s like to be Jewish. I explain about growing up in Kansas City, where I didn’t think I was different
In kindergarten, a classmate called me a dirty Jew, and I learned we were barred from joining most clubs in town. A couple years later, we moved into our dream house and came back one night to find swastikas painted on it. When I was 10, our synagogue was bombed.
Being Jewish is both a religious and cultural identification. Every spring, we remember we were slaves in Egypt, and so we think about slavery today. We take pride in our rituals, our history and our sheer survival for thousands of years despite the attempts to eradicate us.
So why have Jews been vilified through the ages? That’s a longer discussion. As a child, it perplexed me, as we did nearly the same things as our neighbors. Consistent attacks on Jews, whether overt or covert, have occurred almost since Judaism began. Now, however, it seems different.
Having been born in the early 1950s, I was close to the events of World War II. The genocide of 6 million Jews, systematically killed by Adolf Hitler’s edicts, was physically and mentally traumatic for Jews everywhere. My father’s remaining family in Poland was exterminated. This is why the declaration of the State of Israel in 1948 was so important.
After everyone else wanted us gone, we had a home in Israel. It was our first home, our home throughout the ages and our home of last resort. While I may disagree with its government’s policies, I feel strongly that Israel needs to exist, if Jews are to exist.
For us, the Hamas attack on Oct. 7 was an absolute horror. We believed Israel to have the military intelligence to deflect any such attack, and yet the nation failed. Israelis mourned their dead, but we all mourned their vulnerabilities more.
Remember that Hamas started this war, but the result has been horrific for all. Too many Palestinians have died, in part because Hamas insists on putting its military operations under schools, hospitals and civilian communities. Hamas’ leaders care nothing for their own people – they don’t even live with them (they live in Qatar). And that’s one of the many tragedies of this conflict.
Many believe that peace must come at any cost. But few ask the critical questions: How can there be peace if Hamas and Benjamin Netanyahu are still in charge? Is a two-state solution still viable? Where will the Palestinians live with Gaza destroyed and settlements still building on the West Bank?
Two things I do know: First, that there will never be peace while both Netanyahu and Hamas remain in power. Second, the fallout from this war has made it more difficult to be Jewish than ever before.
Anger at Israel has become anger at Jews as a whole. Antisemitism has risen to unprecedented levels. Even in Durango, we Jews have become far more concerned with individual and community security. Our synagogue is now locked 24/7; we use cameras to admit congregants. Fear and anxiety are terrible bedfellows.
I want to be proud again of Israel, which has contributed so much to medical science, technology and pharmacology. But most of all, I want to live safely and freely as an American Jew.
Rivian Bell is a La Plata County resident and a member of the board for Har Shalom, the Durango synagogue.
