Cleaning out the drafts folder. This one is from 2018.
What do the JCC and I have in common?
I visited the Holocaust museum in D.C. once.
One of my Brethren is Jewish. I made Challah for the Chanukah dinner he invited us to.
I ask my coworker a ton of questions because I’m fascinated with the culture.
But that’s pretty much it.
But then “Pittsburgh” happened. Some hate-filled disaster of a human being shot grandmas and grandpas at a synagogue. The anger that boiled in my heart was too much. So I Gingerly-ed and emailed the local Jewish Community Center.
“I’m so angry and want to channel that rage into something positive. Can I come volunteer? I can rake, clean, file — whatever you need me to do.”
It was probably comical and maybe a little odd to hear from some irate gentile, but they obliged and connected me to the development team who could use a warm body to stuff envelopes.
The first thing I saw when I reached the JCC was the security signage. The video recording sign. The security system signage. The controlled entrance. The armed security guard. Required ID for admittance.
A bomb threat two years ago spawned this level of vigilance. They had to get elderly people out of a swimming pool and escort them, barefoot, across a snowy parking lot to safety. Thirteen-year-olds were carrying infants. A mass exodus of 2,500 schoolkids, adults with disabilities, teachers and staff had to flee a community center because some monster, what, didn’t like Jewish people?!
Jesus fucking Christ.
As the development director gave a tour of the center and told me about the programs and services they offer to everyone, Jewish or not.
I was flabbergasted. “But, why? Why would welcome other people when they’ve been so awful?”
She simply said, “We know what it’s like to be excluded, so we make sure this a place of inclusivity. Everyone is welcome.”
And that’s why I volunteer at and give money to the JCC.
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