What do I owe you?

I'm not sure why I'm writing this. Part of me knows it won't help. But I'm having a rough weekend and sometimes you just have to say it out loud.

Today I'm angry and I'm hurting.

I don't owe you this, but I'll add the caveat that I know I'm emotionally stretched thin, like most people in the world living through year 2 of this pandemic.

And I don't owe you this, but I recognize that you are also stretched thin and maybe you didn't have room yesterday, as a non-Jewish person, to read the news of 4 Jewish people being held hostage at a synagogue in Texas. In Judaism we try to "don l'kaf z'chus" (Judge on the side of favor). We give the benefit of the doubt. Maybe you were too tired of bad news. Maybe you just didn't have the capacity to acknowledge another tragedy.

But yesterday I said havdallah, the ritual blessing with which we end the Jewish Shabbat, and I picked up my phone and was flooded with the news that the Jewish world was frightened. We prayed. We watched. We held our breath and let it go collectively after too many hours when the hostages were finally safe.

We did this because the Jewish world is so small. There are so few of us left. And we are connected to one another so deeply. We are family.

And I looked for you. I needed you.

And I don't owe you this, but I know they aren't family to you. I know that to you, they were just 4 strangers in a world of billions.

And I don't owe you this, but I will acknowledge that there were non-Jews out there offering words of support and comfort to the Jewish community.

But you weren't one of them.

None of you, my friends, the ones I like to think I could turn to if I needed safety, spoke up yesterday.

And you didn't speak up after Pittsburgh.

And you didn't speak up after Paris, New York, or Los Angeles.

You were silent.

You are always silent.

And that hurts.

It hurts because I grew up hearing stories from my elders about the neighbors they trusted who turned them in to the gestapo. And I used to think you were different. But now I'm not so sure.

It hurts because I try to be an ally, imperfect as I may be, and I try to educate others and speak up and speak out. I try to show up and offer support and encouragement so that my friends won't struggle alone.

But today I feel so alone.

Today I'm hurting.

And I don't owe you this, but I love you. So instead of seething with it silently, I'm telling you how I feel. I'm communicating my pain.

I don't owe you this, but I'm giving you a chance to do better. I don't know what that will look like. 

Maybe it will just be sharing the articles on your Facebook page and Twitter feeds when you see them. 

Maybe it will be a "care" reaction to my own posts.

We don't need much. We just need to know we're not alone.

I just need to know you see me like I see you.

I just need to know that someone out there is willing to be my safety, should I ever need it.

May I never need it.

May you never need it.

May we all know peace, health, and safety.

Never again.