It started as a simple text message on Snapchat between my son’s friends. “Are you okay?” My son knows not to engage with the cell phone ever since we started observing the Shabbat, Sabbath in Pittsburgh and that means not answering phones or texting. But when the texts became incessant, that’s when I knew something as up. “Mommy, there’s been a shooting!”

Peace in Pittsburgh Shattered.

That would explain the nonstop police sirens for the next 10-15 minutes. My first thought went out to my husband who was on his way to our synagogue with my five-year-old daughter. Is he okay? Where is the shooting happening? My next thought was the community. I didn’t know it was the Tree of Life, a ten minute walk away. Until my son filled me in. That’s the same synagogue where my son and his classmates form a prayer minyan each Wednesday. Can this be happening? In Squirrel Hill? In Mister Roger’s neighborhood? The same Mister Rogers I grew up with in New York City in the 70’s?

“Mom,” my son said. “I’ll stay at home. Everyone else is.” I could tell they were all shaken up. He was planning on meeting a friend before services so they could play a game of chess at our neighborhood library.

He told me what a mother never needs to hear from her son. “Mom, are you going to be okay? Maybe you should go via Darlington?” Darlington is the next street over from Forbes which runs parallel. He didn’t want me to get hurt.

This was happening in our court. Too too close to home.

Peace in Pittsburgh Shattered On Shabbat

I walked to synagogue in tears crying for our country and for our Jewish people and how we have suffered by butcherers and anti-semitism at large throughout the centuries and now this. My first instinct was to shout out to strangers to stay away from Forbes avenue which is just a few blocks away from our quiet street. That there is a shooter loose. I had the instinct that I learned from Israel… that when there’s terror running amuck, you talk about it. You get it all out.

The sirens wouldn’t end. SWAT after SWAT vehicle zoomed and I knew it wasn’t good. Police had blocked off Forbes and Murrary down to the Tree of Life congregation. I knew it wasn’t good.

Those fifteen minutes of walking to our neighborhood synagogue, the former New Life building which houses our congregation were hell. The New Life congregation moved to the Tree of Life which is home to three different Jewish congregations.

I looked at strangers in the eye. But we could feel the fear. I kept looking to the left and right of me. I felt as if I was in Israel. There weren’t many people walking down the streets at 10:15 am and by then, this killer had already shot 11 people. 11 Jews. 11 Jews who were shul lovers and died with a prayer book in their hands.

I flagged my husband at the synagogue and gave him the update but it turns out they already knew from a doctor’s beeper.

A Peaceful Shabbat Shattered in Pittsburgh.

I was amazed how most of the congregation managed to keep their cool. They kept reading through the Torah and the prayers while I tried regaining my emotional equilibrium. I was deeply triggered.

In 2006, the second Israel-Lebanese war, I watched how my Israel student and elite combat fighter, Haran Lev was killed and how, after terrorist attack after terrorist attack in Israel, I managed to bubble wrap myself and still manage to teach 30 Israeli students and hold the emotions inside for terrorism in Israel a way of life.

When our kibbutz was under attack, we ran to bomb shelters for the first time with our 2.5 year old son Ivry. We quickly took refuge on the beach and later at a friend’s home in Pardes Hannah. But even on the beach from the three flickering lights on the towers, I heard non-stop air traffic.

While getting the food ready for the kiddush, a congregant said that before the man went on a shooting rampage, he shouted, “Death to the Jews.” An anti-semitic attack on our Jewish people. And the entire human race.

Our rabbi said a prayer to honor the victims and the kiddush lunch was restrained emotionally. I struggled to stay present, but to leave the synagogue would mean giving into hate. So I forced myself to stay uplifted in prayer. I kept looking at the door wondering for our safety. There was no lock-down and no security guard. Suddenly felt very vulnerable, scared and unsafe. And my thoughts raced back to Ivry: how was he handling this?

This is not how Shabbat is supposed to be.

We walked home restrained. I kept a book of psalms next to me, started reading and soon collapsed from exhaustion and feelings of overwhelm. The wait to jump on my phone was maddening. About 2 hours before Shabbat ended, my daughter crawled into my lap and climbed under my dress pretending to be in my stomach. That she’s a baby. How I wanted to cocoon her from the news of the senseless shooter who entered the Tree of Life Synagogue shouting “Death to the Jews.” She didn’t ask questions. She didn’t yet know. And I wanted to keep it at that.

When Shabbat finally exited, we quickly blessed the new week and jumped back into the digital world. I marked myself safe and told family and friends. The news and details emerging were simply horrific. I struggled to believe this was actually happening.

A Peaceful Shabbat Shattered in Pittsburgh

Since that Shabbat, our backyard has become a media jungle. There are reporters and officers and officials everywhere. We have made international headlines. It feels all too invasive. For all the wrong reasons. Pittsburgh is on the map. But we have come together. In a stronger way. On Monday at our local Jewish Community Center, I saw plastered on the CNN, Jeffrey Meyers, president of the Tree of Life congregation and I reminded myself that no longer am I spectator. Typically I would just watch the news (sometimes) while working out and say to myself, “oh, that’s that,” or “that’s this,” somewhat with an air of passiveness.

People were working out their pain, their suffering, their loneliness. One person on the treadmill shouted next to me, “Robert Bowers was an evil Nazi,” and another discussed why we have to wait so longer to bury our dead and bypass the 24 hour rule that is customary in Israel. The CEO walked in knowing that his building and the people in it will never be the same. CNN or not. People tried going about their daily business. In Israel, people would still be talking it out and there wouldn’t be so much individual grieving. But, I saw how this small town comes together collectively and especially with grieving. I used to think that people were so isolated from each other emotionally which stressed me out. If you allow yourself to do that to yourself over time that state of mind becomes harder to manage. So I got off the elliptical, and went to a neighbor who I haven’t spoken to at length. Just the usual 2 second, “hi and bye.” We talked for a good 30 minutes. I discovered many things about him I wouldn’t have known. That he is a New Yorker like me. That his cousin, Naftali Bennet texted him from the plane asking him questions about our small town before speaking to thousands at the Interfaith Vigil where thousands came. I invited this neighbor and his family for Shabbat dinner.

No longer can I afford to be passive. It might be the difference of losing out on an connection. Let’s be peace warriors. Let’s lift up each other. Let’s dispel the raging fires and darkness.

Since Monday, I have attended one remembrance vigil. We have already buried six community members. I didn’t know any of them and yet, I feel a deep and profound obligation to get to know them. But tragically, in death. What beautiful souls! And why didn’t I have a chance to get to know them?

Peace in Pittsburgh Shattered on Shabbat

Even with all the outpouring of love and support being heartfelt in Pittsburgh, I still feel vulnerable. The Israel/USA flags lit on the walls of the old city of Jerusalem topped with white light that spells “Pittsburgh, We are With You,” is of comfort.

They understand our pain and are identifying with it. They are embracing us with love and from their side of the ocean, that also happens to be my side as an American-Israeli.

Seeing immediately how people opened their doors gave a deep sense of community that is becoming the likeness that I am seeing in Pittsburgh convincing enough that a “mini Israel” exists here too. That the community I gave up in Israel, can be found here. In a twisted sort of way, this is kind of connection I’ve been clamoring for in Pittsburgh.

Even in New York, I see a barge near Battery Park with a sign “Love Stronger than Hate.” Like even my NYC roots are identifying with me.

In Israel, it’s not often that a citizen one of your own, will suddenly turn its back on you and fire at close range. That’s what happened at the Tree of Life. Thus, we are no longer safe in America.

The presence of the Israel Defense Forces kept me sane. Seeing them on buses and public transport day in and out for 18 years kept me sane. And safe. I never felt more safe in Israel than I did in America. Even when I served on a base in Gaza strip And now, this holds even more true. It’s because of the presence of the Israel Defense Forces. It’s because the IDF is intertwined with the Jewish identity.

And yet, American and Israel are two vastly different countries and I, as usual and especially now under these emotionally trying circumstances, find myself straddling these two different mentalities.

In America, I am Jewish first and then American and then maybe after, Israeli. I need to stop thinking of myself of “the other.” I should not be perceived as “the other.”

The murderer who shot those 11 Jews was a Jew-hater and here in Pittsburgh, I am learning how faith brings us together.

So… what lesson do I have to offer as an Israeli expat?

Don’t let distances of America get in your way. Take the closeness of Israel and keep transporting yourself over borders. For the bigger the rift, the harder the connection.

Yes, Pittsburgh will never be the same. But we are strong. And we will rebuild. Together.