Praying in a World Gone Mad

Months before the horrific events of October 7, I had scheduled a November ski trip to Colorado with my son. With the current insanity all around us, I wasn’t sure that the trip was still a good idea.

“This isn’t a good time to travel. Cancel it,” my mom said a week before we were supposed to leave. She’s right, I thought, as the words from the recent Israel travel advisory echoed in my mind. We are advising you to cancel travel to anywhere in the world. Anywhere. And if you do travel, and I can’t believe I am saying this, hide all signs of your Jewish identity.

But I also thought about everything my son had been through since October 7. His distraught parents, the beefed-up security at his school, concerns about his sister and brother-in-law living in Israel and his cousins serving in the IDF. He could use this ski trip and would be crestfallen if I canceled it.

As I was packing up our gear, I spoke to him about the travel alert and asked him to wear his baseball hat instead of his kippah.

“What? You want me to hide that I’m Jewish? Are you ashamed to be Jewish?”

No, I wanted to tell him, I’m not ashamed to be Jewish. I’m afraid.

But I didn’t want to tell him that I was afraid. So I did the cowardly thing and said. “It’s not such a big deal, you’ve worn your baseball hat a million times before when we’ve traveled. Just wear it.” And I threw the hat on top of our ski boot bag and left the room.

My son came downstairs and said, “I’m wearing my kippah. And if anyone has a problem with my being Jewish, that’s their problem.”

Early next morning, my son came downstairs and said, “I’m wearing my kippah. And if anyone has a problem with my being Jewish, that’s their problem.”

I stood frozen as images of all the antisemitism rose through my mind. And then I felt ashamed. I had to be told by my eighth-grade son to not hide my Jewish identity.

I was so proud of him but I couldn’t yet tell him because deep down, I was still scared. Scared of the uber driver. Scared of the people we would come across in the airport and on the airplane. Suddenly scared of the whole world.

When we got to the airport I noticed myself constantly scanning our surroundings and the people around us. Was the man in the business suit in the airport lounge staring at us? Was someone going to start shouting at us about Israel at any moment? The whole time I was praying silently, Help us. Protect us. Please keep us safe.

Then a woman sat next to us and asked if she could tell me something. I braced myself. I started preparing how I would defend Israel and the Jewish people. I started regretting taking this ski trip at a time when the world was falling apart. What was I thinking?

“I just want you to know,” the woman said, “that I am from Ireland, and when I first came to this country decades ago a Jewish family took me in and saved my life. They were the most wonderful, compassionate family and your son reminds me of their children. He is so polite and dignified even though he is only a little boy. I just wanted you to know how much I love the Jewish people. I pray for Israel every day. Those monsters…what they did…”

And she began to cry. Wiping her eyes, she excused herself.

I looked at my son sitting quietly in his seat with headphones on and his kippah on his head, and I whispered, “I am so proud of you.”

He took his headphones off and asked, “For what?”

On our way to Colorado I found myself silently praying, saying a constant stream of Thank You’s. Thank You for the Irish angel you sent my way to assuage my fears. Thank You for such an amazing son who embodies what it means to be a miniature light unto the nations.

And when we finally made it to where we were staying in the Rocky Mountains, I went out onto the balcony and looked up into a clear, cold, starry sky that took my breath away. I had forgotten how insanely beautiful the world is and how the billions of stars above us can render us speechless. And my prayer changed to a whisper: I am in awe of the transcendent beauty of the mountains around me. I am in awe of the infinite expanse of stars above me. I am in awe of this world that You have created.

The next day, when my son and I reached the summit, we both stood speechless looking at the mountain range stretching below us and the glittering, frozen lake nestled in the trees. I was grateful that I had not canceled our trip; I had needed it just as much as my son had. And I realized that the prayers that I had been spontaneously saying as we traveled are prayers we can all use now in this upside-down world as we try to navigate the future.

Help. Help us stand proud and unafraid. Help bring our soldiers home safely. Help bring the hostages home safely. Protect them wherever they are. Help heal the wounded and comfort the grief-stricken. Help us stay sane in the insanity of our surroundings. Help us help each other. Help us choose the right words when we don’t know what to say. Help us do the next right thing when we don’t know what to do. Help your children. Help your nation. Protect us as we go on our way. Help.

Thank You. Thank You for holding us in the darkness and for showing us how to move on when we are afraid to take another step. Thank You for the love and light and unity that You have instilled within our nation. Thank You for all the people around the world who do pray for us and love us and cry for our children. Thank You for Israel. Thank You for a home where all of us know we can return to from anywhere in the world at any time.

Thank You for a Jewish army that values human life above all and whose compassion and warmth shine in the darkness. Thank You for the miracles that You have performed since this began, the big ones and the small ones. Thank You for holding us in the darkness.

Use your own words and just pray, because the world needs your prayers. The Jewish people need your prayers.

I am in awe. I am in awe of the hundreds of acts of heroism that are happening now every day. I am in awe of the mothers and wives who kiss their sons and husbands goodbye, not knowing if and when they will ever see them again. I am in awe of the soldiers who are risking their lives every moment to fight for Jewish people all over the world.

I am in awe of an eighth-grade boy who tossed his baseball hat on the floor and walked through the world proudly as a Jew despite everything.

I am in awe of the infinite beauty of this world that You have created. I don’t need to travel anywhere to recognize the transcendent light in the rising sun or the glittering wonder of the stars above us. I just need to remember to look around me and to look up.

You don’t need a prayer book or to know Hebrew to pray at this time. You don’t need to be in a synagogue; you can pray anywhere and at any time. Use your own words and just pray, because the world needs your prayers. The Jewish people need your prayers.

Help. Thank You. I am in awe. May all of our prayers be answered and may God protect us in a world that has gone mad.