Flooding the zone with light: A different way to fight antisemitism

"I believe one of the most powerful responses to antisemitism also lies in how we live, in what we build, and in how we open the doors of our community."

There’s a well-known joke about a Jewish man sitting in a coffee shop in Moscow, calmly reading a notoriously antisemitic newspaper. Another Jew sees him and says, “How can you read that garbage? Don’t you want to know what’s actually happening in our community?” The man replies, “When I read the Jewish papers, there is so much written about antisemitism and the threats we face. But here, I read that we run the banks, control the media and own half the world. It’s much more uplifting.”
It’s a cute story, but like many classic jokes, there’s a truth at its core. Often, the narrative about Jews, even in our own spaces, is one of fear and reaction. The focus is on the hatred directed at us, not the good we are doing or our strength. Especially in the media, from the pulpit, on social media and in our everyday conversations, we devote enormous energy to dissecting antisemitism, denouncing it and tracking its latest manifestations. But we spend far less time highlighting the vibrancy of Jewish life, the wins and the quiet power of doing good in the world.

Of course, we must be vigilant and address real threats. The individuals and organizations engaged in that effort, whether through advocacy, security, legal action or awareness campaigns, are doing essential, often life-saving work. Our community owes them a great debt. At the same time, I believe one of the most powerful responses to antisemitism also lies in how we live, in what we build, and in how we open the doors of our community to others and allow them to experience the joy and purpose of Jewish life.

In my work at Our Giving Kitchen, I’ve seen this firsthand. We cook hundreds of homemade meals each week for neighbors in need, and the people who make it happen come from every corner of the city. We have longtime volunteers and first-time visitors, Jews and non-Jews, professionals and retirees, post-doc fellows and elementary school students. They come together not for a lecture or a program, but to put on aprons and cook side-by-side to help those less fortunate.

A few months ago, during a cooking session, I overheard a first-time volunteer say to the person standing next to them, “I’ve never been to a Jewish organization before. I didn’t know what to expect, but this is beautiful.” That moment struck me. To be clear, I have no reason to believe they came in with any negative feelings. But something powerful happened in that moment. It wasn’t a class or a campaign that shaped their perception. It was the warmth, the energy, the act of doing something meaningful with others. It was Jewish life in action.

This kind of experience doesn’t just strengthen us internally, it radiates outward. When people encounter Jews through kindness, generosity and purpose, it fills the space that ignorance and hatred often occupy. Instead of chasing down every lie or slur, we can flood the zone with light. We can show the world what Judaism really looks like.

That approach isn’t new. The Lubavitcher Rebbe spoke often and clearly about how to respond to antisemitism. He believed that antisemitism should not become the focal point of Jewish identity or energy. Rather than dwelling on the darkness, we should overwhelm it with light. The Rebbe urged Jews to strengthen their commitment, increase their mitzvot and open the doors of Jewish life so others could see its beauty. That is how we push back, by amplifying hate less, and by proudly living and sharing who we are.

And that means the stories we choose to tell matter. The way we talk about ourselves — on social media, in speeches and in everyday conversations — shapes how others see us and how we see ourselves. We need more space for the good. More attention to what’s working. More celebration of the people and programs creating light in a difficult time.

Jewish life is rich, meaningful and beautiful. It’s also resilient. The best way to fight antisemitism is to live that truth out loud, not just for ourselves, but for everyone who walks through our doors. PJC

Rabbi Chezky Rosenfeld is co-founder and director of Our Giving Kitchen.