I have a close family member—I’ll call him Jon—who is a ba’al teshuvah, a returnee to Judaism. I, too, traveled that path, but in the 20 years since Jon began his Jewish journey, he has sprinted far ahead of me, at least in terms of daily observance.
With his beard, yarmulke, and tzitzit on full display, Jon is very visibly Jewish. Since October 7th, I’ve become increasingly concerned that he might be targeted for antisemitism while traveling for work.
I’ve suggested that perhaps when arriving at the airport early in the morning, he should pray and wrap his tefillin a little further from the terminal, perhaps a bit more discreetly, or maybe later in the privacy of his hotel room. After all, with two small black boxes strapped to his arm and forehead, he looks visibly Jewish (or, to those not in the know, alien).
But Jon reminds me of what our Chabad rabbi, Rabbi Eli Goodman, told him about the importance of wrapping tefillin early in the morning: “You have to get hooked up from Above, in order to get hooked up from below.” Jon is getting “hooked up” by binding his mind, heart, and actions to G-d's service. That “hook up” provides distinct protective advantages in his daily life.
While I comb the papers and search the internet for the latest attacks—my own faith momentarily dwindling in the light of the news—Jon is too involved with the daily requirements of Jewish observance to focus much on the growing tides of antisemitism. Aware of my concerns, he reassures me that he will fight back if anyone tries to attack him. He is not a young man, but he's strong, and that strength is not purely physical.
Jon has not only evaded antisemitic attacks in New England, Colorado, Washington DC, and the Swiss mountains, but he has also become, in his own way, a shliach, a representative others can seek out and talk to.
Many step up with a litany of questions; others talk to him about their appreciation for the Jewish people. Strangers in supermarkets and on the street, noting his yarmulke, approach him with questions and comments, some having only ever met a handful of Jews.
And so far, these strangers have proven warm, friendly and accepting. One Chinese gentleman approached him, wanting to know more about Kabbalah and whether it’s similar to the concepts of Yin and Yang in Buddhism. A non-Jewish woman in a health food store showed him a package and asked if the kosher certification was considered reliable enough for her kosher-keeping friend.
Jon shares whatever information he has, but often ends up simply nodding his head in encouragement while people speak of their own faith or reminisce about their Jewish encounters. These little ”meetings” take anywhere from five minutes to half an hour.
One especially memorable moment occurred while visiting a client in Virginia, who did everything but hug him when he entered her office wearing his black knit yarmulke. She told him that her mom used to work for a Jewish family, and that she had been raised in that same Jewish house. She began to reminisce about Shabbat and Passover dinners, about chicken soup and kugel, and all the holidays she helped prepare for and often took part in. She loved both the warmth and traditions of the Jewish people and Jewish culture.
Sometimes I travel with Jon. On one of our trips, to visit family out West, a young man who wasn’t visibly Jewish wished us “Yom tov” (“Have a good day”). This acknowledgment from a member of the clan whom I have not yet met reminds me of the innate and unbreakable bond that all Jews share.
While we are increasingly targeted as “other,” our ties to our fellow Jews grow stronger. Since October 7th, others have yelled across store aisles and from down the street, “Am Yisrael chai!” We’re never sure whether they’re Jewish or not, but it doesn’t much matter. It’s good to have allies.
On one trip to Colorado, we were in a neighborhood supermarket, where two employees stood by the self- checkout, both with distinctly Muslim-sounding names on their badges. I looked at both young men, trying to read their expressions, but their eyes were carefully focused on Jon, who was checking out.
Then one spoke. “Salam alaykum,” he said, using the Arabic greeting that mirrors the Jewish “Shalom aleichim,” “Peace be upon you.” Jon responded in kind, in Hebrew: “Aleichem Shalom.” Especially after seeing the lies, animosity, and misunderstanding so many have swallowed whole over the past few years, I find hope and renewal in the shared greeting between cousins of goodwill.
Ultimately, G-d gives us all different capabilities, and it is our responsibility to hone and maximize those abilities to become His messengers. While I attempt to counter hatred and ignorance with research and words, sometimes finding myself belly down in the muck, I see the value and power in Jon’s way: making a profound impact simply by going through life as an open and visibly identifiable Jew.
