There is one question—heavy, uncomfortable, but unavoidable—that lingers in the aftermath of Boulder:
What if someone had been carrying a firearm?
How different might that night have been? How much shorter the terror? How much smaller the fire? How much stronger the message that Jewish life is not only sacred—but protected?
This is not a call for vengeance. It is a call for vigilance.
For decades, we were taught that Jews should not fight. That our role in history was to suffer nobly, never to respond decisively. That memory, not muscle, was our best defense.
But memory alone does not stop firebombs.
There is no virtue in helplessness. No holiness in being unprepared. The Jewish people have every right—not just legally, but morally—to defend themselves. To ensure that gatherings of prayer do not become crime scenes. That our children’s bar mitzvahs don’t need to come with evacuation plans.
The world is changing. We must change with it.
And while no weapon guarantees safety, the willingness to carry one may remind our enemies that Jews will not go quietly—not in Boulder, not anywhere.
Because we know how this ends.
Unless we decide to end it differently.