What’s Your Plan

When getting a haircut recently, I shared my stress about the current state of our country, especially the radical elements. Post-election, the news has me worrying about my family’s well-being. Between snips, my stylist advised me to tune out the distressing headlines. “Just ignore it,” he said with a dismissive shrug. But his advice struck me as misguided. Ignoring the threatening elements of our nation feels dangerous, especially for vulnerable communities; Jews, Trans people, Blacks, and others. Willful ignorance enables hatred and emboldens vigilantes. Rather than withdraw, I want to face these anxieties with a plan.

This brings to mind a story from the Torah. When Jacob returns to Canaan after years away, he knows he must face his brother Esau, who once threatened to kill him. Jacob is understandably consumed by fear and anxiety: “Jacob was very afraid and distressed” (וַיִירָא יֲעֲקֹב מְאָד וַיֵצֶר לֹוֹ).

But Jacob does not allow his fear to paralyze him. Instead, he devises a plan. He divides his family, flocks, and herds into two camps, reasoning that if Esau attacks one, the other might escape. Later that evening, alone and wrestling with an angel, Jacob emerges from the encounter transformed, though he carries a limp as a reminder of the struggle.

The reunion between Jacob and Esau unfolds surprisingly peacefully. Esau embraces Jacob, seemingly letting go of his anger. Yet Jacob remains cautious, politely declining Esau’s invitation to live together and instead choosing a separate path. Though Esau’s intentions appear genuine, Jacob’s anxiety persists—a testament to how fear, whether real or imagined, shapes our perceptions and decisions.

Jacob’s story resonates deeply in today’s climate. His fear of Esau, rooted in past threats, mirrors the psychological insecurity many of us feel in uncertain times. For me, this insecurity stems from doubts about the dependability of my fellow “radicalized” Americans. Remember the shooting at the Tree of Life in Pittsburgh or the demonstrations in Charlottesville or the encampment at Columbia University? History reminds us to stay vigilant. Anti-Semitism has long existed in this country, and while we have not experienced something as catastrophic as Kristallnacht, recent surges in hate crimes and extremist rhetoric are alarming.

In times of heightened tension, comfort and security come from preparedness. Jacob’s response to his fear is instructive: he acknowledges his anxiety, devises a strategy, and takes steps to protect his family and resources. Ignoring one’s fears—as my stylist suggested—is not a viable solution for building safety or resilience.

Some may dismiss such caution as overreaction. After all, our nation has weathered storms of division before. Yet, insecurity is not purely rational; it’s an emotional response informed by history and the temperature of the times. For those of us in vulnerable communities, the stakes feel too high to simply “tune out” and hope for the best.

Like Jacob, I grapple with how to balance engagement with self-preservation. I want to be a cordial neighbor while maintaining vigilance and boundaries. For some, this might mean considering extreme measures like moving assets abroad or seeking refuge in another country. Others may find solace in local community-building or advocacy work. That is where I devote my energies. The paths vary, but the need for a plan remains constant.

Jacob’s story reminds us that fear can constrict our sense of judgment but also sharpen our instincts. His example encourages us to channel our anxieties into thoughtful preparation. In the face of uncertainty, we are called to protect what we value most while striving to create conditions for a safer, more equitable future.

Evan J. Krame, Rabbi