I am the son of a German Jew who fled Germany in late 1941 for America. I grew up listening to my father, of blessed memory, describe surviving the terror of Kristallnacht as an eight-year-old boy. He spoke of the shattered glass, the fear, and the sudden realization that neighbors could turn hostile and institutions could fail. In our home, those stories were not abstractions; they were warnings wrapped in memory. They shaped how I understand Jewish vulnerability, Jewish resilience, and the profound responsibility that comes with communal life.

For much of my life, those stories felt like history: tragic, instructive, but ultimately distant.

The attacks of October 7th in Israel changed that. The surge of antisemitism that followed globally, and here in the United States, made something deeply uncomfortable feel real again. Jewish communities were once again facing open hostility, threats, and the normalization of Jew-hatred in public spaces. For me, this was not simply geopolitical news. It was a generational echo, and it compelled me to act.

Over two years ago, I volunteered to become the first Head of Community Safety at our synagogue in New Jersey. I had no formal training in security, nor a military or police background. I possessed only an unwavering need to do something to protect our Kehilla in the face of rising Jew hate. After all, “Kol Yisrael arevim zeh la-zeh” (all of Israel is responsible for one another).

I immersed myself in site security, joining the Community Security Service (CSS), taking free online courses from Homeland Security and the Cybersecurity and Infrastructure Security Agency (CISA), and talking to industry experts from our local police forces.

Through those conversations and resources, a consistent framework emerged:........

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