When antisemitism rises, our instinct is to fight it head-on — louder campaigns, bigger billboards, more lobbying, more statements. Those efforts matter, but they rarely change hearts. Antisemitism is not defeated by volume. It is defeated by relationship.

I learned this years ago on a New York City bus.

I was commuting daily from Queens to Manhattan, often cutting it close. One morning I saw the bus at the stop and started running. It began to pull away — and then, unexpectedly, stopped and waited for me. When I boarded, the driver turned to the other passengers and said, “You see this guy? He’s a good guy.” Then he explained why.

Weeks earlier, at the first stop of the route, that same driver had asked if I minded waiting while he ran to the restroom. I said of course. That was it. A small, human courtesy. But it was enough to change how he saw me — and, as he told me later, how he saw Jewish people.

That’s how antisemitism is actually fought: not in grand gestures, but in ordinary ones.

Today, as America faces deep division, rising hatred, and one of the harshest winter storms in memory, a friend of mine — philanthropist and thoughtful Jewish leader Amy Korenvaes — called me with a simple idea that carries enormous power. Instead of pouring all our energy into massive projects to fight anti-semitism, what if we focused on one small, personal act of gratitude?

Law enforcement officers and first responders stand on the front lines every day. They protect our schools, our synagogues, our churches, our communities. They show up in storms, in chaos, in danger — often unseen, often unthanked. And yes, they are among those who quietly keep rising antisemitism at bay by putting their lives on the line.

So here’s the call to action:
Every Jew. Every Christian. Take 30 minutes. Go to a local bakery. Buy a box of donuts or cookies. Bring it to your local police station, firehouse, or EMS station. And simply say, “Thank you.”

Thank you for your service.
Thank you for your time.
Thank you for protecting us.

Imagine the impact if 5 million American Jews and 100 million Christians did this — not as a campaign, but as a movement of gratitude. No slogans. No politics. Just humanity.

There is something deeply Jewish about this moment. We are called Jews because we come from Judah — whose name comes from the Hebrew word for thanks. Gratitude is not just something we do; it is who we are.

This is our opportunity to live that identity — and to invite our Christian friends to join us.

I’m calling on every synagogue, every church, every federation, and every individual to do this simple act. It costs little. It takes almost no time. And it may change a heart — or many — forever.

Because the smallest gestures, multiplied by millions, are how we rebuild the world. 

Please share this.
Let’s spread it — and let’s act.