With all the madness in the world, Halloween was a welcome diversion. Looking at the cute costumes is always fun. Marveling at the increasingly elaborate, macabre yard decorations is hysterical. Some are pretty scary, including the spooky tombstones and skeletons rising from the dead. Add the multicolored lights and some occasional screams and groans from hidden speakers (“Alexa. Play scary sounds!”), and you’ve got lots of ghostly amusement.
My street, just off Washington St in Newton Corner and a block away from an eastbound Mass Pike entrance ramp, has become, over the years, a true Halloween magnet. Hundreds of kids – and I mean, HUNDREDS, parade up and down the avenue. I estimate that I saw about 500 kids, which is down a bit from last year, very likely because of the chilly weather.
As I poured my candy into a large soup kettle, I anticipated the particular joy I experience passing out the sweets. I particularly love the nervous and slightly overwhelmed little ones, their parents coaching them on what to say. Then there’s the roving packs, usually slightly older kids, trick or treating without their parents. They can be wise guys, insolent, and sarcastic. I sass them back, and they love it. I was ready for the evening rush.
I looked at our walkway. Our “We Stand With Israel” placard was boldly planted right there. I paused for a moment and began to wonder. What does this sign mean to me? Why did I put it in our yard? The answer is apparent to me: now, more than ever, I need to publicly proclaim my love of Israel and the people who live there. I need to publicly reaffirm my connection to Israel, a connection that has been ineluctably tied to my soul since I was twelve.
I realized that the kids and their parents would all walk right past my sign on their way to my front door. This made me pause for a moment. A catalog of “what ifs” began to form in my mind. What if kids pull it down? What if some anti-Israel people rip it down and get nasty? What if one of those wiseguy gangs starts to dare each other to do or say something offensive? I mean, it could happen… So… should I move it just for Halloween night?
I stopped in mid-thought. And I got angry – with myself. There is no way in the world I will move that sign. I will not be afraid. I will not hide. I will not knuckle under to anyone who wants to scare me or my people. I refuse to give antisemites what they want: my pride, my faith, my history, my autonomy. My father escaped the Holocaust – just barely. The rest of his family died – in Berlin or at Auschwitz. Our continued existence in the world is something Jews NEVER take for granted. We are thankful for our freedom and our continued survival. And we won’t give it away. Hamas reminded us that right now, there are people bent on destroying us who will commit the most heinous, despicable acts of violence against us. And if that weren’t enough, some people have rallied in the streets of America to show support for Hamas. So hell no, I did not move the sign. I won’t hide.
I know some college kids are scared right now. Some Jewish kids are asking university registrars to change their names on class lists lest they are outed as Jews. They don’t want to be singled out by twisted professors or ignorant fellow students. I get it. I get their fear. Shame on the college administrations that have allowed Jewish children whose parents are paying a lot of money for their education to feel so marginalized, so threatened, that these students deny their Jewishness. This is what they call in Yiddish a Shanda, a dreadful, shameful act. I hope these Jewish students soon realize they are not alone and do not have to put their heads down and deny a legacy of wisdom and joy. Yes, the Israel-Hamas war begs a lot of questions, but it doesn’t change the fundamental truth of our tradition – it can’t.
Nothing happened on Halloween: no wise guy antisemitism, no epithets or insults. One of the kids in a middle school gang walked up to the porch and said, “Happy Halloween!” and then “Happy Birthday!” because, well, because he was a wise guy. Then he turned, saw the sign, and said, “Whoa. My mom will love this.” He took out his phone and took a picture. Then this kid, with an axe planted in the side of his head, turned to me and said, “Thank you.”
No trick. Just a treat.
Before Shabbat 