Earlier this week, I was preparing to fly back to Massachusetts, where I previously led a JCC. The trip was supposed to be short — less than 24 hours — yet I knew it would be emotionally heavy.

In the spring of 2024, a man came to that JCC with a gun and filmed himself spewing hateful, antisemitic messages. A social media influencer, he posted the video online for thousands to see. I was subpoenaed by the District Attorney to testify about that day.

The day I learned about this incident was one of the most frightening days of my life. 

As the leader, I immediately thought about the thousands of people who walked through our doors every day — from infants just six weeks old to older adults in their nineties. 

JCCs exist to strengthen community and create a place where people feel safe and welcome. The JCC has the privilege — and the responsibility — of caring for people’s wellbeing every day, which had been threatened by this crime.

Two hours before I was scheduled to leave for the airport, I received a call from the District Attorney’s office. The perpetrator had accepted a plea deal. Instead of testifying, they asked me to submit a victim statement to the judge.

Writing that statement forced me to relive the day — the fear, the anger, and the sadness. It reminded me how deeply acts of hate reverberate through a community.

My son, who is almost seven years old, overheard me talking about the trip, despite my efforts to protect him. He had questions. So many questions.

Why would someone go to the JCC if they didn’t like Jews?
Why did he do bad things?
Does he hate us?
Do other people hate us?

No parent wants to explain to their young child — who is so proud of his identity — that there are people in the world who hate them simply for who they are.

Meanwhile, just one day after I had planned to travel to Massachusetts, I found myself urgently texting family members in Michigan: Are you safe?

A synagogue in West Bloomfield, Michigan — where a shooter, driven by hatred of Jews, had attacked — is my family’s synagogue. My aunts, uncles, cousins, and grandparents have been members for decades. A cousin responded: “We are safe, but I was there last night with 750 community members for a major program. I feel nauseous. How will this ever end?”

It’s a question so many of us are asking right now. I don’t have any easy answers. But moments like these remind me why the work of the JCC matters so profoundly.

The JCC is more than a building. It is where Jewish life happens every day. It is where children learn who they are, where families celebrate holidays together, and where friendships and community are built. It is also one of the places where the broader community encounters the beauty of Jewish life in the most normal of ways. 

Every day, people of all backgrounds walk through our doors — to swim, attend an event, or bring their children to preschool. In those everyday moments, they experience Jewish values, Jewish culture, and the power of our Jewish community firsthand.

The JCC is undeniably Jewish AND not just a place for the Jewish community — it is a place where communities meet.

I won’t have answers for every question my son asks. But I do know what I want him to see — a community that refuses to be defined by fear and always shows up for one another. 

I pray that years from now my son won’t ever be asked the questions he asked me. Because he won’t have to. And one way to ensure that is through the growth and sustainability of our JCC. It is here that we build strong, public Jewish identity along with deep and enduring connections to friends and allies. 

What we do at the Indianapolis JCC matters — and all who walk through our doors, whether intentionally or not, make a powerful statement against hate. 

Shabbat Shalom,

Sam Dubrinsky -JCC Indianapolis CEO