By Shira Kramer, Editor-in-Chief
On March 12, Ayman Mohamad Ghazali, 41, drove his car through Temple Israel in West Bloomfield Township, Michigan. Inside were an estimated 140 preschoolers along with their teachers and support staff. Children in what should have been one of the safest places for them.
Fortunately, just a month and a half before the incident, the FBI’s Detroit office had conducted an active shooter prevention and preparedness training for clergy and staff at the temple. When Ghazali drove into the building, that preparation was put into action. Temple Israel security responded quickly and effectively, taking him down before he could cause serious harm. None of the children were hurt.
That outcome was not accidental. It was the result of planning, resources and an understanding that even sacred spaces are not immune to violence.
While the Department of Homeland Security released little information about Ghazali, a neighbor of his told the Detroit Free Press that his family had been killed in an Israeli air strike in Lebanon. Additionally, the IDF reported that Ghazali’s brother Ibrahim Muhammad Ghazali managed weapons operations for Hezbollah and was killed in an Israeli airstrike on a military structure of the terror group.
If these reports are accurate, it would appear that in order to find relief from their deaths, Ghazali decided to target Jewish children.
In the aftermath of the attack, many who are quite clearly anti-Israel rushed to add this background. They wanted an excuse for the incident. However, no personal tragedy makes targeting innocent people (especially children) okay or justified.
Ever since Chanukah’s antisemitic terror attack on Bondi Beach, Australia, in which 15 people were shot and killed, I have found myself much more aware of my surroundings, scared that anything could happen if I let my guard down for even a second in public. For Jews around the country, these tragedies bring up an important question: am I truly safe anywhere? And, how do I continue to lead a life free of fear?
The reality is that vigilance is necessary, but being prepared does not mean being paranoid. There is a difference between recognizing risk and allowing it to control you, between taking precautions and living in constant anxiety.
The incident in West Bloomfield is unique in that there were no casualties. Security’s quick response is a reminder to Jewish communities everywhere that safety protocols do save lives. It is also a reminder that Jewish institutions across the country are thinking about these threats every day.
But while our communal spaces should be proactive in taking measures to keep us safe, we shouldn’t let our vigilance stop us from living our lives. If Jewish history has taught us anything, it’s that we have never and cannot let fear dictate our actions. Our survival has never come from hiding, and it never will.
On March 20, a video of a 4-year-old Jewish boy in Monsey being shoved by a mailman circulated online. The act itself was shocking, a reminder that hatred can manifest in everyday moments. But what stood out even more was what happened next.
After being pushed to the ground, the boy got up, picked up his kippah and immediately put it back on. He wasn’t discouraged. He simply continued on.
We need to take a lesson from that boy.
In pro-Israel influencer Nick Matau’s recap of the incident on Instagram, he said that the boy’s actions exemplify the Jewish community in that he could have started crying, but instead he picked himself up and carried on. In the face of antisemitism and these tragic incidents, it would be completely understandable for us to hide, to remove the accessories that make us obviously Jewish.
But time and time again, we don’t. We keep showing up.
We can be vigilant. We can be aware. We can take every necessary step to protect ourselves and our communities. We can advocate for better security, demand accountability and support the institutions that keep us safe.
But we cannot let fear define how we live, how we show up or who we are.
Photo Credit: Unsplash