It has been a year since Oct. 7. We’re still trying to heal.

In the days after this brutal act of terrorism, I had the solemn honor to stand in solidarity with Jewish Virginians across the commonwealth at vigils for those murdered and captured. In the face of unimaginable grief came calls for unity and hope to restore a sense of safety in our communities — something shattered by acts of pure evil that unforgettable day.

I’ve been moved to see so many Americans stand proudly by the people of Israel as they have rightfully defended themselves from vicious attacks from Hamas, Hezbollah, Houthis and their backer, Iran. Our support for Israel must be unwavering.

Yet, we also have seen an exponential increase in antisemitism here in America and Virginia, the home of religious freedom. Antisemitism has always existed on our shores, but it’s clear that those who believe in its perverse doctrines have been inflamed over the past year. From physical assaults to vandalism to verbal and written harassment and threats against Jewish people, I’m saddened and angered to hear a young Jewish father afraid to take his wife and children to the grocery store, students afraid to walk to the campus Hillel or even attend class, or fliers calling for the release of a hostage being torn down.

Our response in Virginia has been clear. I’ve issued plans to coordinate with educational institutions and law enforcement entities to combat threats of violence against Jewish people and other religious communities; activated additional capacity at the Virginia Fusion Center to monitor and quickly address threats; expedited grants to organizations facing religious or ethnicity-based persecution; and been crystal clear that we will not tolerate violence, intimidation or threats against the safety of others.

We’re training law enforcement to recognize signs of extremism and to make sure our college campuses are safe spaces to learn. And the General Assembly passed legislation recognizing the working definition of antisemitism adopted by the International Holocaust Remembrance Alliance, to be used as a tool for training, education, and combating antisemitic hate crimes and discrimination.

At the bill signing for this legislation, my friend Halina Zimm, a Holocaust survivor in her 90s, whispered, “Hate is wrong. Love is right.”

That’s a powerful example from a woman who has been given every reason to harbor bitter resentment and instead chooses resilient love. It can be hard to live up to the ideal she represents, especially when this tragedy is ongoing: We grieved anew in August, when Hersh was murdered by his captors.

I’ve told Halina we had more work to do. But she is a reminder of why we do that work: The ongoing fight for religious freedom and safety in our communities is a fight for the very soul of our commonwealth and nation.

Glenn Youngkin, Richmond

The writer, a Republican, is governor of Virginia.

The high price of worshiping safely

In the aftermath of the Oct. 7, 2023 attacks, when Hamas murdered about 1,200 people in southern Israel and took about 250 more captive, Washingtonians united in grief and resolve. Our political leaders, non-Jewish clergy and friends provided an outpouring of support.

I’m grateful for this backing. I also wish that more people understood the immense strain facing the Jewish community here. In recent years, a long list of violent attacks on Jews has included the Pittsburgh synagogue massacre, the Poway synagogue shooting in California, the shooting of a congregant outside a synagogue in Miami, the Monsey Hanukkah stabbing in New York and the Colleyville synagogue hostage crisis in Texas.

Here in Washington, since Oct. 7, congregants at a synagogue in Georgetown were accosted with a foul-smelling spray by an assailant yelling “gas the Jews” and multiple synagogues in the metro area have been vandalized, some of them multiple times.

The threat to congregants’ physical safety takes a tremendous emotional and mental toll. When people walk into Washington Hebrew, the synagogue where I serve as senior rabbi, we want them to feel confident they’re entering a safe environment offering a distinctive experience, not going through airport security.

Churches in Washington don’t generally require security. Most don’t have guards permanently stationed on-site or police officers making regular patrols. Their entrances aren’t designed to stymie terrorist attacks or their sanctuaries to protect those inside from violence.

The need for continuous security takes a financial toll on Jewish congregations as well, in building and personnel costs surpassing hundreds of thousands of dollars annually. Washington Hebrew’s security expenses more than doubled after Oct. 7, and unfortunately, we had no choice except to raise our security fees to defray the cost. For many synagogues, security costs are their largest single budget item.

The Jewish community in the United States, like any other minority group, shouldn’t have to absorb unsustainable costs to safely gather. The federal Nonprofit Security Grant Program has tried to help, but more must be done. Only 43 percent of grant applications were fulfilled in the 2024 cycle. Without additional funding, I fear some congregants won’t be able to pay the necessary synagogue security fees, or that some congregations will have insufficient security.

I make it a point to regularly thank the police officers we hire to keep us safe. Recently, I spoke to one and noted that he and his fellow officers must be exhausted. He assured me that they were fine, that this is what the police are built for. And, he told me, this is about family. Many of the officers who protect our buildings have been with us for 20 years. Their duty to protect the synagogue feels personal to them, which speaks to the strength of our community.

Today feels like a different world for Jews in America, yet we need to keep bringing people together. We want our synagogues to be safe spaces where people can come for a sense of hope and to find the joy in Judaism because those opportunities strengthen us in those moments that shake our foundations.

Rabbi Susan Shankman, Washington

The writer is the senior rabbi at Washington Hebrew Congregation.

An enduring Black and Jewish alliance

When I was young, I was nurtured on stories of the civil rights movement. My parents, immigrants from Ghana, identified with the history, struggles and perseverance of those who fought for equality here in America. They understood this fight was a universal one about freedom, safety, dignity and opportunity, all of which they wished for their American children.

As a young student leader who came of age during the Black Lives Matter movement, I know what it is like to feel alone confronting injustice — before realizing we weren’t alone. Throughout these challenges, I drew comfort and strength from two constants: solidarity within our African American community and unwavering allyship from our Jewish brothers and sisters.

Growing up, I learned about Jewish Americans marching in Selma, Ala., and joining Freedom Rides. Some even gave their lives, including Andrew Goodman and Michael Schwerner, who were murdered in Mississippi in 1964 after helping with voter registration in Black communities. I knew how Jewish Americans partnered with African Americans to establish the NAACP and other civil rights organizations. Ours is an alliance built not only on values rooted deeply in our cultures and faiths but also in a shared experience of trauma, ethnic violence, forced displacement, legal discrimination and implicit bias.

On Oct. 7 last year, Jewish people experienced the pain of the worst antisemitic atrocity since the Holocaust. Entire families were massacred in their homes, hundreds kidnapped, and deep traumas unleashed in Jewish communities worldwide. I was angry, appalled and devastated. I assumed that, in the wake of that terrible attack, we would see a groundswell of support for Israel’s safety and a rallying around our Jewish friends and neighbors.

But along with compassion, Jewish communities in Maryland and throughout our country encountered a vicious wave of antisemitism. According to the FBI, antisemitic attacks now account for 15 percent of all hate crimes in the United States, second only to those targeting African Americans.

Our hearts ache for innocent lives lost in the Middle East, and we demand justice and human rights for all. Two things can be true at the same time: We can advocate peace and security for civilians in Gaza and Lebanon, and want the same for those in Israel. We can debate Middle East policy, and ensure Jews and Palestinians feel safe and welcomed in Maryland and throughout America. And we can do all this while recognizing Israel’s right to self-defense.

As we mark the anniversary of the Oct. 7 massacre, I want the Maryland Jewish community to know that it is not alone, even if it often feels that way. I’m asking others from my community to take time today to reach out to Jewish friends, neighbors and colleagues. Check in. Share a kind word. Wish them a “shana tova” — happy new year; start a conversation. Remind them they aren’t alone.

Adrian Boafo, Bowie

The author, a Democrat representing Prince George’s County, is assistant majority leader for the Maryland House of Delegates.