“What does the Holocaust have to do with Gaza?”
My 17-year-old daughter and I were wandering through the Dane County Farmer’s Market in August. I love walking from stand to stand sampling unfamiliar produce.
My favorite spot is always the small patch of real estate with the Capitol building as its backdrop. This is where the local activism booths stand. They are run by passionate people fueled by the Jewish value of tikkun olam ( repairing the world) and their own social justice causes.
On this particular day, we saw a table for ‘Friends’ of a local waterway and a woman gathering signatures for a petition against Costco. Tucked between them was an unrelated booth bearing a sign that said, “Israeli Jewish Descendants of the Holocaust Survivors Are Now Committing Genocide in Gaza & the West Bank. Let’s Stop Them!” The sign also featured a hand-drawn swastika.
My daughter noticed it first and asked with a furrowed brow, “What does the Holocaust have to do with Gaza”? Her question mirrored my own curiosity about what we stumbled upon at that moment. I took a couple of steps closer and snapped a photo of the sign so we could analyze it later away from the hustle and bustle of the crowds. As I moved forward, I noticed my daughter quickly backing away. Her hand moved to cover the Hebrew letters on her necklace.
I did not think much of it until as we drifted back into the sea of flowers and vegetables; my daughter said to me, “Mom, I am very surprised at you. You remained very calm. You even stopped and took a photo. I was the one moving back quickly covering the Hebrew on my necklace.”
She was right. I am not the same person I was almost two years ago. There has been a drastic change in my behavior in the aftermath of Oct. 7 and with the rise of antisemitism around me. Before Oct. 7, my morning routine before school included sending my kids back upstairs to change shirts if they had a little ”schmutz” on them. Since Oct. 8, the routine has been different. I would closely scan my children, asking them before they left for the day to tuck their Hebrew name or Jewish star necklace into their shirt and run back upstairs to change out of their Jewish-themed sweatshirt before leaving the house for high school. Over FaceTime, I regularly reminded my daughter, a student at University of Wisconsin-Madison, not to walk around campus in clothing with her Jewish sorority’s Greek letters or references to Israel.
This is why my daughter was so surprised when I walked toward that table at the Farmer’s Market to get a better look rather than grab her arm and hurry by.
The truth is, the last two years have been confusing and heavy as a Jewish parent. I am the “Proud Mama” who reposts photos of my children on social media at a Milwaukee Jewish Teen Philanthropy Board Grantee Ceremony or volunteering at Friendship Circle. I am the parent who gives them the jewelry and underwrites the merch. I have been the one editing them, telling them to be careful, to blend in.
I have been living my days in a kosher pickle. I am a proud Jew, and I am also a proud, scared Jew. Every day I wrestled with the tension between wanting my children to have strong, vibrant Jewish identities and the fear of raising them in a world where antisemitism is rising. How do I nurture their pride when I’m constantly calculating how to keep them safe?
Over time, I realized I was speaking out of both sides of my mouth. I was encouraging Jewish pride while also warning them to hide it. I needed to reset.
As a Jewish educator, I’m always looking for those “teachable moments” in the classroom. This particular teachable moment happened organically with my own family. Slowly, my curiosity began to edge out my fear. My children’s curiosity helped support this process. A question about something one of us saw on social media would spark a dinner table discussion. A lesson from our synagogue’s religious school would prompt a car ride debate. I started reaching out to friends in Israel and local Jewish educator colleagues to help answer questions I did not know how to answer myself.
I work hard to be a role model for my children. I want them to see me living my Jewish values openly, admitting when I feel uncomfortable, and sharing my challenges without layering them with fear. These moments, I have realized, are opportunities for honest dialogue, curiosity and growth as a family.
Later that afternoon, sitting in the colorful Terrace chairs on the University of Wisconsin-Madison campus, with iced coffees in hand, I pulled up the photo of the sign again. We read it together and unpacked what it said. I tried to answer her original question, “What does the Holocaust have to do with Gaza?” While my daughter Googled, I glanced at my watch and calculated the time in Israel so I could text our still unanswered question to friends there.
It was another teachable moment. It was one of many in this new reality of parenting after Oct. 7. Fear still lingers, but so does the chance for curiosity to lead the way. \
* * *
About the writer
Jennifer Saber is a passionate Jewish educator and proud mom of three who strives to inspire learning in both her family and her community. She is the Madrichim Program Coordinator at Congregation Emanu-El B’ne Jeshurun Religious School.
* * *
Learn more: ‘What does the Holocaust have to do with Gaza?’
“The Holocaust was a systematic and industrialized campaign of extermination, carried out in secrecy to annihilate an entire people. Gaza, despite its immense suffering and devastation, is the scene of a conflict between a terrorist group and a sovereign military — not an extermination effort. Comparing Gaza to Auschwitz distorts history and reduces the Holocaust to a vague, manipulable idea, undermining its status as a universal moral anchor.”
– AJC/American Jewish Committee
Loading ...