Just a Little Something I Need to Get Off My Chest

Something happened today—or more accurately, something didn’t happen—and I need to get it off my chest.

When someone says “Shabbat Shalom,” “Good Shabbos,” or “Shavua Tov” at the end of Shabbat, the respectful, human, menschlich thing to do is respond. It doesn’t have to be a whole conversation. A simple “Thank you.” A warm smile. A nod. A moment of acknowledgment.

Not a cold shoulder. Not a disapproving glare. Not the kind of silence that makes your skin crawl.

And yet, that’s what I got today.

Maybe they didn’t recognize me. Maybe I wasn’t dressed the “right” way. Maybe I didn’t look like what they expected. But I did extend a greeting of peace—and in return, I got disdain.

Let me be clear: It does not matter whether you know the person or not. It does not matter if they are your neighbor, someone new to the area, or simply passing through. It does not matter if they are Reform, Conservative, Chasidic, or anywhere in between. Offering a warm Jewish greeting is part of our shared culture—part of the rhythm of our week and a way to connect with one another. Responding in kind is a simple act of respect. It’s not asking for much.

This is one of the reasons I often keep to myself in my own neighborhood.

Yes, I’m Jewish.
Yes, I grew up Orthodox—Orthodox ish.
No, I don’t practice the same way I used to. But that doesn’t mean I’ve abandoned my traditions. I still carry them with me. I still greet others with Shabbat Shalom not out of habit, but from the heart. I do it out of derech eretz, out of respect.

But that same respect doesn’t always come back. And that’s where it starts to ache.

Because the truth is, the sting of being ignored, dismissed, or judged by your own people—by those who share your faith and should understand—is deeper than most people realize. It isolates. It wounds. It leaves you asking, “Where exactly do I belong?”

If I seem distant or quiet, please understand: it’s not because I don’t care. It’s because I’ve learned—sometimes painfully—that I need to protect my peace in spaces where basic decency is not guaranteed.

I’m not angry. I’m just tired. And disappointed. And human.

So here I am, writing this for anyone who’s ever felt the same. For anyone who’s ever walked through a Jewish community, extended a hand or a word of greeting, and been left standing alone in the echo of their own kindness.

If you’re reading this and it resonates, please know—you’re not alone.

And if you’re reading this and it challenges you, maybe take it as a gentle reminder: you never know what someone is carrying with them. A smile costs nothing. A “thank you” takes a second. A little warmth can go a long way.

Wishing you all—sincerely and truly—a Shabbat Shalom and Shavuah Tov!!!