Trump is extending a questionable invitation to Jewish voters, and it’s crucial we reject it. In a recent political advertisement, a trio of Jewish women discusses their concerns over breakfast in a deli. They express worries about rising antisemitism, threats against Israel, and social unrest on campuses. Despite acknowledging their reservations about Trump’s character, they unanimously declare their intent to support him, driven by the belief that “At least he’ll keep us safe.” The emphasis on the word “safe” resonates deeply within the Jewish community, especially as we remember the tragic anniversary of the horrific attacks on October 7 in Israel and the six-year mark since the devastating mass shooting at Pittsburgh’s Tree of Life Synagogue.
What is particularly unsettling is the contrasting reactions our community has experienced following these two tragedies. After Pittsburgh, we felt an overwhelming outpouring of solidarity from various communities—messages, baked goods, and physical presence provided comfort. In stark contrast, following the events of October 7, the response felt tepid and hesitant. There seemed to be a reluctance to engage, leading one young community member to question why a similar understanding of pain wasn’t extended to us as had been encouraged after the murder of George Floyd.
The emergence of pro-Hamas rallies intensified this sense of isolation. While it’s uncertain how aware demonstrators were of the implications of their slogans, it’s vital that community leaders recognize the impact of these actions. This has led to an unprecedented feeling of vulnerability within our community, accentuating our need for safety while feeling fundamentally misunderstood.
As a rabbi, my work has historically revolved around forging interfaith alliances to combat various injustices. However, this past year has marked a departure from that mission due to the imperative of protecting my community and staying connected with our friends in Israel. In this heightened state of alert, the political advertisement showcasing three Jewish women prioritizing their safety resonates with many.
Yet, amidst the distress of past tragedies, there lies a disturbing undercurrent in the ad: the allure of sacrificing democratic values for security, reminiscent of historical compromises made by Jewish communities with rulers throughout the ages. The presumption that a single figure can provide safety raises serious concerns—not only due to historical precedent but also because such safety could be sought at the expense of others’ security.
In the U.S., the former president has targeted 11 million undocumented individuals, many of whom have deep roots in America, including children born here. His advisers have signaled ambitious plans for mass deportations that could have dire ramifications, including proposals for holding camps and expedited removal processes. Suggesting that these threats are mere hyperbole overlooks the chilling reality that fear alone can disrupt lives. Our local immigrant community was rattled to the core, with children preparing “go bags” for school, unsure if they would return home to find their parents gone.
This raises a critical question for the Jewish community regarding whether safety from a leader who incites fear and dehumanizes vulnerable populations is acceptable. Is an assault on one group acceptable if it promises security for another? As I confront rising antisemitism on both the left and right, it’s disheartening to feel distanced from traditional allies. However, supporting others should be driven by principle rather than expectation. We lend support because it is just, enhances democracy, and acknowledges that true safety is collective—reflecting the idea of e pluribus unum: from many, one. Our faith should rest in God, not in the proclamations of individuals.