A couple of weeks ago, I stumbled onto Sacha Finkelsztajn’s “La Boutique Jaune” – a Jewish pastry shop in Le Marais, Paris, after visiting the Shoah memorial. I smelled it first, warm and welcoming, and then noticed the crowd outside – a mix of regulars and tourists. It felt quietly defiant. Looking at the pastries in the window, all I could think was: we’re still here. Someone is still baking. Someone kept the door open and chose life, chose courage.
After 7 October 2023, I, like many others, felt a deeper pull towards being involved in Jewish life – JCCs, student governments, and student unions. Each one of us “October 8th”-Jews has a different story; I can’t speak for all of us, but we share courage.
Courage to go to shul when services require police. Courage to meet universities, politicians, and journalists. To some, you’re the fragile face of suffering; to others, you’re held responsible for the suffering of others. Courage to simply go back to your community, whatever that means for you.
Sometimes, courage doesn’t feel like courage at all. After a week of draining meetings and emails, I felt hopeless and alone. I took the tram to shul. Down the street, I saw it lit up. And me, secular as I am, warmed inside. I felt at peace for the first time all week. I rang the bell and wished the cranky but kind doorkeeper a peaceful Shabbat. Sometimes, you just have to show up for yourself.
It takes courage not only to be visibly Jewish in places where we’re a tiny minority, often seen as outliers, but also to stay true to what being Jewish means to you. For some, it means showing up visibly. For others, it’s asking hard questions, keeping a small ritual alive, or holding space for uncertainty. There’s no easy answer.
For me, admitting the lack of an easy way out and staying honest to it is courageous. Especially now, when everything feels urgent, choosing a side can give you clarity. But clarity is not the same as understanding. The slogans, the certainty, the performances. They don’t always hold truth or what’s hard to sit with. Some things are more complex than a slogan can offer. We don’t always get to choose the moment we’re in, or how ready we feel to meet it. But we can be present, even when it’s complicated.
Sometimes being present just means moving forward: making quiet choices, again and again, choosing to stay connected even when everything feels uncertain.
Running a Jewish pastry shop requires courage. So does walking through campus with a Magen David, attending shul, as are many other things.
Whatever that looks like for you, may you meet it with courage. We’re all finding our own way through – I know I am.