The author is a Metro Detroit native who currently resides in Arizona. He, his wife, and her family recently came to Temple Israel to speak with the rabbi about a eulogy for his mother-in-law and to attend a Sabbath service.
By Larry Zaks
I want to share some thoughts about the events of March 12 at Temple Israel in West Bloomfield Township.
My family and I were in that building just last month. We walked down the very hallway where the perpetrator later drove his pickup truck, intent on killing as many Jews as he could.
We attended Shabbat services there the following Friday.
We were in Michigan because my mother-in-law had passed away earlier that week. The clergy and our friends at Temple Israel wrapped themselves around us — consoling us, supporting us, and helping us celebrate her legacy, which includes a great-grandchild who attends Temple Israel’s preschool.
The tiny handprints of our two children are set in the sidewalk next to the playground dedicated when they were in preschool — a playground clearly visible in the aerial news footage. Their confirmation class and religious school graduation class photos hang on the wall near the hallway where the perpetrator was stopped. Temple Israel has been, and remains, a profoundly important part of our lives. It shaped our family long before we moved away, and it continues to shape our family, still in Michigan.
We have walked in and out of that building thousands of times. But our last visit felt different.
When we arrived from the airport to meet with the rabbi who would eulogize my mother-in-law, we noticed immediately how much had changed. Years ago, we would walk in, greet the familiar lone security guard at the reception desk, and head to the clergy offices or wherever we were going that day. This time, four security personnel stood behind or near the reception desk. They called the clergy office for permission, and then we were escorted to the clergy offices. Most doors now required badge access — a new reality compared to our previous visits.
At Shabbat services that Friday night, a significant police presence was visible — similar to what we see at services in Arizona. We felt safe at Temple Israel.
Then came the news of the attack, and it hit us hard.
My wife learned about it on Facebook, where a friend posted about an active shooter at Temple Israel. Our first instinct was to make sure our family was safe. Thank God, none of them were in the building. We went online to the Detroit television news feeds and watched in disbelief.
The unfolding situation felt surreal — almost impossible to comprehend. And yet, tragically, it did not defy explanation. It was another antisemitic attack on a Jewish institution — fueled by hate and encouraged by “bad actors,” both domestic and foreign. This time it wasn’t graffiti, harassment on the street, or bullets fired into synagogues elsewhere. This time, it was personal. Temple Israel — the largest Reform congregation in North America — was attacked by someone bent on killing as many Jews as possible.
Temple Israel was prepared. West Bloomfield Township public safety was prepared. Surrounding communities and agencies were prepared. Security had been hardened; staff and security personnel were trained for this kind of event. Their preparation and planning saved lives.
Never the Same
Still, nothing will ever be the same.
For me, the lesson is rooted in the words of Rabbi Hillel: “If I am not for myself, who will be for me?
And if I am for myself alone, what am I? And if not now, when?”
That quote has hung on my wall at various times. I think it’s time to put it back. What I take from it is this: ultimately, we are responsible for our own security. We cannot entrust it entirely to others. We must speak up, defend ourselves against injustice and threats, and stand up for others facing the same dangers. We cannot — and must not — wait until it is too late.
Temple Israel was ready. Unfortunately, they had to be.
We all must be on guard. Our security, our well-being, and our future as Jews depend on it.
We take this responsibility upon ourselves because we can no longer rely solely on others to protect us. Too often, those we believed were responsible for our safety — or whom we thought were our allies — have ignored the rise of antisemitism and its threat to Jews around the world. Trusted institutions and ideologues have fomented, espoused, or quietly condoned antisemitic rhetoric, encouraged by domestic and global “bad actors.”
These threats were largely ignored until we, as a community, spoke up after October 7, 2023. And even then, it still wasn’t enough.
Before we returned home from Michigan last month, we decided to send a few of my mother-in-law’s belongings back to Arizona. One of them was a ceramic pear we later learned was quite fragile. As we took it to see about shipping it back, the ceramic pear was accidentally struck when a door closed on it. Several pieces broke off.
We managed to glue most of it back together, but a small fragment was lost, leaving a hole and seams where the repairs are visible.
After the events of March 12, I keep thinking about that ceramic pear. Temple Israel will be repaired, of course — the doors rebuilt, the barriers strengthened, and the damage restored. But like the ceramic pear, a “hole” will remain. A mark that cannot be smoothed over.
A reminder of what happened that day. And just as the repaired ceramic pear now carries a visible history of what it endured, that scar in our community will strengthen our resolve to ensure it never happens again.
