Today marks sheloshim, 30 days, since the murder of 3 dearly loved Christian souls, martyrs of our Jewish community. Looking in the rear view mirror on April 14th, we could view only the shocking tragedy  of the previous day and vainly attempt to comprehend what it all meant. By Thursday, April 17th, unity through interfaith worship lifted our spirits and enabled us to dream of a better tomorrow, freed of the plague of enmity and the scourge of anti-Semitism.

Now the murders recede in the mirror, but with what change other than increased security at our agencies and synagogues?

At that communal worship we were brought together in common humanity with neighbors we had never met, all touched in the same way by the tragic events.  What did we learn; and what, if anything, will result from our losses? The ironic murder of Christians in two Jewish locales brought home the indisputable truth that when bullets guided by hatred fly, no one can be sure whom they will kill. At what point do we change our lives to avoid the repetition of these deaths? And how might we change? Did we learn from the outpouring of grief that united us all?

When Marion, Missouri's mayor, Don Clevenger, was caused to resign for his anti-Semitism and approval of the murderer's motives, we saw the vision of what might be:  citizens who will stand up without being asked to say "no" to religious bigotry. We saw decent people demand, "We will not accept sympathy with bigotry from our political leaders." One friend of mine called the City Hall of Marion, Missouri, to offer thanks. I wonder how many others did the same.

Where do we go from here? Does a longer term solution suggest itself?  These deaths offer us an opportunity, if we are willing to follow the lead of the Marion, Missouri, City Council. Each and every synagogue and church ought to have a standing, interfaith committee that examines the evil we tolerate in our midst and furthers interfaith understanding.  What might we have stood up to oppose this month out of our common and core belief that God has created us all equally? What baseless enmity should have outraged us and why did we miss it?  How do we teach our children to think of others as different, rather than the image of God?  Where do we allow religious bias in our schools? Where, in our own community, did bigotry raise its head and we did not notice or call it out? Not something foreign, or even several states distant. But right here, in our midst.

We hear around us comments about aliens, the disenfranchisement of the poor, comments about Muslims, and rationalizing racism. Our own Jewish children are sometimes told they are unsaved and will go to hell because of our beliefs. We need not go far to see how misunderstandings of others, ignorance of the reality of others' lives, affect all of us. Might this be an opportunity to investigate the implications of the biblical insistence that we are all created in God's image?

The shock of these murders touched many of us personally, and we have had to examine how we might move forward. But have they challenged us to improve our world to avoid the wickedness that brought all of this upon us? Only we can determine the best road forward.