Dad was here over the weekend (blog on this to follow later), and because it was Shabbat, and I was doing my regular Shabbat things – going to shul, cooking dinner, not doing much on Saturday – I was terribly worried he would be bored. When I expressed this to him, he said, “Are you kidding? I’m in Jerusalem, on Shabbat. That’s so cool!”

And he’s right. I’ve been taking living here, getting to actually observe Shabbat, and my religion for granted. Here I am – saying my daily prayers, celebrating the high holidays, going to shul on Shabbat – in the Holy City. Yet I’ve been treating it like every other day.

That was shattered on Saturday morning in Pittsburgh. 

An ignorant, hateful man walked into a synagogue on a Saturday morning shouting unspeakably anti-Semitic things and killed 11 people, wounding more. All these people were doing was praying. All these people wanted was to have a peaceful Shabbat. All these people were doing was living their lives. 

And I wish I was shocked.

I wish my first question was why? I wish I was asking how? I wish I was surprised that someone could do something so horrible to people innocently praying in synagogue.

But this isn’t the first time this has happened. Countless people have been targeted for their religion in just the last 10 years – not just Jews. So many people have been punished for going about their day, following their beliefs, simply living their lives and hurting no one – targeted for little more than the color of their skin, where they choose to pray, what they believe in. And of course we need change – new laws, less hate, more overwhelming love for a fellow human being. But today, it’s just horrific. And it’s heartbreaking.

I debated all day about whether or not I wanted to write this. My mind was all over the place at work. I didn’t know if I was angry or sad or in disbelief. It wasn’t until I was crying that I realized I was honestly just mourning. Mourning for what, I can’t really say. But my heart is aching. And I can’t stop it.

But when I sat down last night to say my nightly prayers, and opened my Siddur to see the first prayer of the night: “I hereby forgive anyone who has angered me, provoked me, or sinned against me,” I knew I would be remiss not to say something. 

Today and yesterday, like so many other days, people were saying “my thoughts and prayers are with Pittsburgh.” And today and yesterday, like so many other days, other people said, “Your thoughts and prayers aren’t enough.”

But in this case, my thoughts and my prayers are literally with the Pittsburgh community. They haven’t been more than one thought away these past few days. They have been in every move I’ve made, every prayer I’ve said, every thing I’ve done.

And I know, I know, that my thoughts and prayers aren’t going to reform laws. I know my thoughts and prayers aren’t going to remove any hate from this world. I know my thoughts and prayers go no further than where I direct them.

Today though, and until next Shabbat when I hope so many Jews pile into their synagogues to show that we are resilient and that hate doesn’t get to win this time, I hope my thoughts and my prayers and my will to beat these ignorant people is enough to make a slight difference for Pittsburgh.

Because we – as a world, a country, a people, a religion – are stronger than this. We are better than this.

And we won’t let hate win.