I feel frozen, despite the Florida heat. The world outside my door seems more daunting than ever—and that’s saying something, nearly two years after the October 7 attack on Israel.

Flashpoints keep erupting. A man in Utah, who blamed Jews for nearly everything wrong in the world, was killed and then became a Christian martyr. Pointing out his flaws publicly can get you “canceled”—mocked, ostracized, even fired.

That same day, there was a shooting in a Colorado high school. Just two weeks earlier, a mass shooting at a Minnesota Catholic church killed two children and injured twenty-one others.

None of those targeted were Jewish. Yet being openly Jewish feels more dangerous than ever. I live an overtly Jewish life, but even when I feel safe, I worry.

Driving to the airport today, I saw a massive pickup truck. The back window proclaimed in bold letters: “Jesus is Lord.” The side windows read: “God bless Charlie Kirk.”

We pulled up side by side at a light. He gestured to me—I think to roll down my window. I stared straight ahead. Two small Israeli flags fly from my dashboard air vent, and I didn’t want to hear whatever he had to say. He sped off, and I was relieved to let him go ahead.

But then the worry crept in. Should I leave the flags visible in the airport lot while I’m away? I stopped wearing my kippah in airports two years ago. What about the dog tag I wear for the hostages? My small Jewish star necklace? Why did I cringe when someone called out, “Hi, rabbi!” across the terminal?

And yet—when an old friend called and ask me to speak at an upcoming event, I said “yes” before I even knew what he wanted.

Honestly, I was delighted. I love my current work as a community educator, but I don’t have as many speaking opportunities as I did as a pulpit rabbi.

I don’t think of myself as brave. But. The Talmud teaches that silence is assent. And I cannot agree with what is happening. Speaking at a local rally for what I consider basic human rights may be a small act. But perhaps it will embolden me to speak louder, and more often.