Rabbinic Reflection: Rabbi Taylor Baruchel

From the Desk of a Rabbi and the Heart of a Mum

Last night was the start of Purim.

A holiday that practically dares us to be loud. Costumes. Laughter. Children sprinting through synagogue hallways on a sugar-fuelled mission. Grown-ups doing that very Jewish thing where we turn fear into humour and grief into generosity.

And a few kilometres up the street from my own synagogue, another shul was shot at.

On Purim.

No one was physically hurt. Thank God. But bullets into a synagogue are not a property crime. They are a message. We see you. We can reach you. Shrink.

I am a rabbi. I am also a mum. And I am Canadian.

I hold one passport, and it is not diplomatic. I am not a politician. I make no military decisions. I pack lunches. I organize kids programs. I try to raise a decent human being.

And yet my child goes to school with heavy security.

I receive regular updates about threats to Jewish institutions.

I have had to explain why police cars sit outside buildings that are meant for prayer and preschool and song.

This is not normal.

If your first instinct reading this is to respond with another conflict somewhere else in the world, pause.

Canadian Jews are not foreign policy avatars. We are not embassies. We are not stand-ins for governments. We are citizens of this country.

We can hold complicated views. We can love a homeland and critique a government. We can love Canada and critique Canada. That is what people of conscience do.

But none of that has anything to do with whether a synagogue in Toronto should be shot at.

When bullets hit a Jewish building in this country, the response should be immediate and uncomplicated.

This is wrong.

Jews deserve safety.

Not conditional safety. Not safety after a disclaimer. Not safety after passing a moral litmus test.

Safety.

Purim is a story about what happens when a society becomes comfortable with the idea that a minority is expendable. It is also a story about refusing to disappear.

I am tired of security being the background condition of Jewish childhood.

I am tired of the quiet expectation that we will absorb this and carry on politely.

I am tired of the moral asterisk attached to Jewish fear.

This is my country.

My child deserves to grow up here without armed guards as a given.

And no parent in Canada should have to whisper “it’s just for safety” when what they really mean is “I hope nothing happens today.”

Written in the immediate aftermath of the shooting at Temple Emanu-El on Erev Purim, this reflection was first shared on social media and is now offered to our wider Holy Blossom community.