Light in the Darkness

These have been lonely years for many of us. Since October 7, 2023, so many Jews have told me the same quiet truth: something shifted. Friends, colleagues, and classmates—people we thought understood us and cared about us as Jews and as human beings—suddenly felt unfamiliar, leaving many unsure how to name what they were witnessing.

Without being pollyannish, I want to share a story of promise that has brought me some light, and that I hope might bring a little light to us as a community in these dark and difficult days.

Our synagogue is a member of Metro IAF, a New York citywide network of more than 100 institutions—synagogues, churches, mosques, and community organizations—representing tens of thousands of New Yorkers. Through affiliates like Manhattan Together, Jews, Christians, and Muslims build real relationships across difference, listen to one another’s sacred stories, and work side by side to hold power accountable so that New York can be safer, fairer, and more humane.

Over more than 75 years, Metro IAF has won real change on issues ranging from affordable housing and public education to gun violence, mental health access, and immigrant rights. Though Jewish institutions are a small minority within this network, I think it’s important we’re a part of it, because our history has taught us that it has never ended well for us when we are alone. I’m deeply proud of the many members of our synagogue who already engaged in this work.

That’s the background. Here’s the story.

Back in June, on the day of the New York City mayoral primary, I attended a meeting of 25 citywide Metro IAF leaders. With a contested mayoral election ahead and another public candidate forum on the horizon, leaders went around the room sharing what their communities were worried about and afraid of.

When it was my turn, I said, “If issues of safety for the Jewish community are not on the agenda for the next candidate forum, I will not be able, in good faith, to bring our people.”

The room fell silent. I had a fleeting thought—here we go again; another space where Jews thought we had a seat at the table. But before that thought could settle, Reverend David Brawley, a Baptist minister of a megachurch in East Brooklyn and a partner of nearly two decades, spoke up: “You are not alone, Rabbi. What do you and your community need?”

Others echoed that concern. And together, we got to work.

At the candidate forum we held in Queens in October, Jewish leaders shared stories of fear and vulnerability. One especially powerful moment came from a member of our synagogue who described being confronted by antisemites on the subway. Both candidates responded publicly and unequivocally, committing to keep Jews safe—along with all New Yorkers—and to meet with us again before taking office.

Two weeks ago, the mayor-elect kept that commitment. A delegation of Metro IAF leaders—Muslim, Christian, and Jewish—met with him to press for action on mental health, affordable housing, and safety.

In light of his earlier, deeply inadequate response to an antisemitic and frightening rally outside Park East Synagogue, we asked him to reaffirm his commitment to Jewish safety without condition. He said plainly, “Jews must be safe in this city, period.” 

He also reaffirmed his promise to increase city funding for anti-hate programming from $3 million to $26 million, and committed to setting up a meeting with the leader from his administration who will be responsible to explain how those funds would be spent and evaluated. And he committed to arranging a meeting with NYPD Commissioner Tisch by the end of January. “You will have those meetings,” he said. “I guarantee it, and I expect you to hold me accountable for the promises I’ve made.”

Afterward, as leaders evaluated the meeting, Reverend Patrick O’Connor of First Presbyterian Church of Jamaica, Queens turned to me and said, “Tell your community that if the mayor fails to uphold his promises, we will stand with you and demand that he does.”

Now the real work begins. Mr. Mamdani will soon be the mayor of New York. While some prominent Jewish voices have urged disengagement altogether, we are choosing a different path—not naïveté, and not silence, but disciplined public accountability rooted in relationship.

Rabbi Hillel, no stranger to inter-communal tension, taught: al tifrosh min hatzibur—do not separate yourself from the community.

We will not separate ourselves. We will do this work together, alongside more than 100 faith communities, because Jewish safety matters—and because our tradition teaches that the way forward is not withdrawal, but presence, partnership, and resolve.