Sam Boger | sboger@mail.smcvt.edu
The promise of equality and opportunity in America has often been elusive for Jews, particularly in the face of antisemitism.
I have experienced antisemitism throughout my entire life. As a child, my family celebrated Jewish and Christian holidays. I was born into a mixed family; Jewish on my mother’s side and Protestant on my father’s side. Under Jewish law, this would mean I should be 100% Jewish. However, this is not how I was raised.
My grandmother on my dad’s side of my family was a staunch anti-Semite. After my parents met at Syracuse University Law School, my dad introduced my mom to his family. There were mixed emotions initially, but my grandmother was the most vocal.
For years, she tried everything from breaking my parents’ engagement to setting them on dates to protesting their wedding, and more. Eventually, my parents were forced to move, as she was one of the main catalysts for this decision.
My grandmother and I never had a great relationship. She wouldn’t feed me when I was a kid, but she gave other grandchildren gifts and more when she visited. I never understood why until I got older and experienced more of these actions.
At age 16, I chose to go to boarding school. I was harassed for being a Jew there too.
One event has still stuck with me to this day. I was in our gym working out, and I was approached by a student in my grade.
He had spare change in his pocket, threw it at me, and said, “Pick it up, you Jew. I know you want the coins.”
From then on, everything clicked in my head, and I finally understood why my extended family on my Jewish side always told me to always be careful. This experience solidified my understanding of the prejudice my family had warned me about.
The summer before I transferred here, I lived in Israel for two months. I finally felt safe to express my Jewish identity.
Traveling everywhere around the country from the old city of Jerusalem to the Golan Heights, to living in Tel Aviv and to Eilat on the Red Sea, I was fully immersed.
I met local Israelis, both from Muslim and Jewish backgrounds. During my trip, I visited the moshav named Netiv HaAsara, which is a mere 400 yards from Gaza.
For those who don’t know, moshavs are small Jewish settlements in Israel that are co-op agricultural communities. Amit Vaks, a community member, gave us a tour of the whole place.
In his 24 years living there, “only three community members have ever been killed.”
Netiv HaAsara was considered so safe, they had a waiting list for people to move in. Amit, however, was one of 20 members who died on October 7, 2023, protecting his wife and three daughters.
Hearing this, I was so distraught. Sadly, he is only one of the people I met and grew to know that were killed just over a year ago.
If you asked me a year ago to write an op-ed piece on the perspective of a Jew, I would have declined. I have grown to realize that it is more important for me to share my stories, rather than politicize the subject.
We see this enough in the news every day, which is why I chose the direction of this piece. For all those who glance over this piece, I understand why, but for those who want to hear a short collection of anecdotes, I appreciate it.
I wanted to share these stories with the St. Michael’s College community, as we are not just a Catholic school, but a melting pot of students from all backgrounds.
I would like to leave you all with a quote by Holocaust survivor Viktor Frankl, Austrian neurologist and philosopher: “When we are no longer able to change a situation, we are challenged to change ourselves.”
Take this to heart, as it means a lot to me. We should all look at ourselves in the mirror and challenge ourselves to be the best versions of ourselves every day.