Hatred happens every day. Vile words, destructive acts, and divisive headlines are the norm. We adjust ourselves to it by dodging literal and figurative bullets. And we hide to protect ourselves because the price of doing anything less feels too high. It comes at the expense of reaching out to others whom we don’t know, and it deprives us of changing with and adapting to the future.

Recently, I was asked: How do we combat antisemitism? The operative word would seem to be “combat,” but it’s not the only word. In addition to combatting, which many other groups and powers handle better than we do, we also have a duty to educate ourselves. We’ve spent a lot of time learning about others and respecting others’ customs and practices. In some ways, we’ve spent more time learning about others without also learning what we need to know about ourselves.

In the past, Jewish religious school educators asked if we should spend time on Sunday mornings to teach our children about other faiths. The answer was often to focus on Jewish subjects, because our time is limited and many students miss too many Sundays anyway. It was also reasoned that as soon as our children walk out the door in the morning—and increasingly when they enter their public classrooms—they encounter a non-Jewish world. Even more so, today, our children need a stronger foundation of Jewish knowledge to encounter a world that is encountering them.

Others reason that a private Jewish day school education is a bubble, leaving these children less prepared for the larger world around them. But it’s actually counterintuitive to draw this conclusion. Jewish day schools are reliable providers of both Jewish and secular education because they have created integrated curricula. More than practicing Judaism, they’re also understanding Judaism through traditional sources and secular subjects. That understanding empowers our children to view the world with facts, knowledge, skills, and respect for Jewish thought and perspective.

Later, our children will graduate and leave home for the larger world, where someone will ask them, “Who are you?” That’s the easy question, and they’ll all get it right. But when they’re asked, “What are you and why?” they need to be prepared to answer that question, too. If they’re not prepared, then it’s possible that someone will answer it for them. The answer may come from antisemites who prey on weak faith and uncertain answers. Or the answer might come from voices within our own community whose opinions clash with your family’s Jewish life.

But we can’t lay it all on our children. We created Jewish education on the weekends and in Jewish day schools because we were told in Torah that our obligation is, “Teach them (mitzvot) to your children,” (Deuteronomy 6), and in Talmud (Bava Batra 21a) to establish schools where the community bears the parents’ responsibility to teach the children Torah if they’re unable to do it themselves. No one is relieved of the duty to support Jewish education for our children, both at the synagogue and in Jewish day schools. And no one is relieved of the lifelong duty to learn and to teach Jewish history, Israel history, culture, heritage, Hebrew language, Hebrew prayers, and the meaning of Zionism.

The threat of antisemitism is overwhelming today, and it will be tomorrow, too. If you’re not on the front lines defending Jewish lives, then arm yourself with Jewish education. Read a Jewish book, any Jewish book, and make time for major subjects including Israel’s history. At Congregation Beth Israel, we have one of the largest Jewish libraries in the southwest—our Hyman Judah Schachtel Library. It’s not a depository; it’s a living library where adults and hundreds of children from The Shlenker School and Miriam Browning Jewish Learning Center visit every day. Stop in, speak with our librarian, take home a book or two.

Torah and its teachings are “our life and the length of our days” (Deuteronomy 30). In these times, the Jewish people will bear up and be better prepared for the future armed with knowledge and wisdom.

L’Shalom,