In the early afternoon hours of Sunday, June 1st in what should have been a moment of somber solidarity for hostages still languishing in Hamas captivity, horror struck in Boulder, Colorado. A Muslim extremist, Mohamed Sabry Soliman, armed with Molotov cocktails and a flamethrower, unleashed fire on a peaceful Jewish gathering. His goal was not mere intimidation. It was murder—cold, premeditated, and genocidal.

According to the Boulder County District Attorney, Soliman told investigators that he “wanted to kill all Zionist people.” Translation: Jews. Men, women, and the elderly—all targeted for simply gathering to speak out against the barbaric acts of Hamas and to pray for the safe return of over 120 Israelis still held hostage in Gaza. Eight people suffered burns, some critically. Four others were injured. They were not soldiers. They were not political operatives. They were Jews. And that, it appears, was enough.

Let us speak plainly: this was not a protest gone awry. This was a terror attack. An American city became the stage for an attempted pogrom. The images are gut-wrenching—burned bodies, dazed victims, and flaming patches of grass where innocent people once stood, holding signs of hope and remembrance.

How did we get here?

In truth, the ground has been softening for years. The chant of “Free Palestine” has become the socially acceptable veneer for what is, all too often, naked and violent antisemitism. For months now, we’ve watched university campuses transform into breeding grounds for Jew hatred. Synagogues have been vandalized. Jewish students have been assaulted. Professors have praised intifada. Pro-Hamas rallies, many brazenly organized under the guise of “liberation,” routinely feature calls for violence and the eradication of the Jewish state. This time, the poison spilled into fire.

What is most terrifying is the silence—or worse, the excuses. Major news outlets have largely buried the story or stripped it of its moral clarity, treating it as just another “incident” in a heated political atmosphere. The suspect’s motive is routinely minimized, and the anti-Jewish nature of the attack glossed over. Imagine, if you will, if a white supremacist had thrown firebombs at Black churchgoers or Muslims at Friday prayer. The entire nation would rightly erupt in moral outrage. And yet, when Jews are burned, the response is muted, the coverage thin, and the empathy conditional.

Let us not delude ourselves: we are witnessing a terrifying acceleration of antisemitism in the Western world, and particularly in the United States. From Pittsburgh to Poway, from Los Angeles to Brooklyn, and now Boulder—no corner is immune. Hatred of Jews is no longer the domain of fringe extremists. It is being normalized in classrooms, legitimized in media, and emboldened by political cowardice.

Worse yet, the Jewish community is being told, explicitly or implicitly, that it is to blame. That if Jews would just stop “supporting Zionism,” the attacks would stop. That if they didn’t remind the world about kidnapped Israelis, they wouldn’t be firebombed. That if they would simply hide—again—the hatred might pass them by.

We’ve heard this song before. It has played in every century of Jewish existence. We know where it leads.

Let us be clear: the line between “anti-Zionism” and antisemitism is no longer a line—it is a fuse. And this time, the fuse was lit not in Tehran or Rafah, but in a quiet park in Boulder, Colorado.

To our non-Jewish neighbors: your silence is deafening. We are grateful for the support of those who have stood with us, but the overwhelming indifference of the wider public in moments like these is both sobering and prophetic. The Jewish people are again reminded that in times of danger, no one will save us but ourselves—and our Father in Heaven.

To our own community: we must wake up. We are not safe. Not on campus. Not in progressive circles. Not in the streets. And certainly not in the self-delusion that history will not repeat itself. It already has.

The lesson of this latest horror is simple and eternal. The Jew is alone. We have no illusions about the reliability of external protectors. No president, no police department, no interfaith council will ever be as committed to our survival as we are. We must invest in our own security, protect our synagogues and schools, train our children to walk with strength, and above all, reaffirm our unshakable emunah—faith—in Hashem.

The world has always found excuses to hate the Jew. It doesn’t matter whether we are poor or prosperous, whether we assimilate or stand apart, whether we are in exile or in our homeland. What matters is that we exist. And our very existence—our covenant with G-d, our survival against all odds—is the greatest threat to every ideology of hatred.

In Boulder, they tried to burn us alive. But we are still here. Battered, yes. Scared, certainly. But unbroken.

We will not be silenced. We will not hide. We will not back down.

We will live as Jews. Proudly. Publicly. Faithfully.

And we will trust—not in the shifting winds of politics or the frail promises of allies—but in the Rock of Israel, Hashem, who has never abandoned us. Not in Egypt. Not in Auschwitz. Not in Boulder.

Am Yisrael Chai.