The incident at the synagogue is a lesson in the power of words

I love you. You’re terrific. Great job. Congratulations. I’m so proud of you.

I love you. You’re terrific. Great job. Congratulations. I’m so proud of you.

As parents of young children we spend so much of our time talking about and role modeling the power of our words and actions. When our boys have a fight, we talk about why, the feelings and the reactions. We try to help them understand how much what they say and do can make a difference not only to each other, to our family but to the larger community.

I hate you. You’re mean. You stink at baseball. I don’t like you.

These words are just as powerful and at times even more so when spoken by peers. As parents we struggle with trying to explain why someone may say hurtful things or act in ways that make no sense (to us). We struggle with helping our children see through the pain the words caused them to the possible reasons (ignorance, poor command of the English language, peer pressure, thinking they are being funny, etc.) they were said.

Jokes, songs, slogans, stories

These are words used to make us smile, laugh, cry, remember special life events, think, question and even educate. The knock-knock jokes of children first trying to grasp the concept of sharing humor never fail to make me smile. The joy and the connection a child experiences when their stories, songs and even attempts at jokes fall on listening ears reinforces their ability to affect others in a positive way.

Ethnic slurs, racial intolerance, symbols of hate

The power of these words and actions can be profound. They can lead to a divided community, fear, violence, apathy and frustration, and whoever is targeted can feel disempowered. If we teach our children that their words and actions have power, what do we do when confronted by these powerful words and symbolss? Do we as parents and as community members ignore these things so as not to “give them power”? Do we explain to our children that some people hate and fear only on the basis of some aspect of a particular person or group like skin color, sexual orientation, gender or, as so sadly shown on the Island this week, religion? Can we take away the negative power of these words?

The lessons of the past week are many. Some sadden me, and some make me glad that I live in a community where people will speak out against injustice, intolerance and hate. How sad to discuss with my children the act of malicious cowardice and hate toward the Jewish community on Vashon that was done last weekend. How positive it is to talk about how the Vashon community is coming together — individually and collectively to take a stand against this hate crime.

The actions of the Vashon community now set a tenor for the future. We can show that our actions as individuals and community have power. We can empower our children to speak out when they see or experience intolerance and injustice. We can demonstrate that our unwillingness to sweep this incident away as a “childish prank” shows that everyone’s words or actions do have power and that it can be used positively or negatively. We can also demonstrate those early life lessons that we, as parents, have tried to instill in our own children: Actions do indeed have consequences, and these can be positive or negative.

Yes, the words and symbols that the perpetrators of this vile act used had power — but not only in the way they may have wanted. They have opened the eyes of community members, presented an opportunity to increase diversity awareness and tolerance and emboldened a movement to focus more energy on tolerance and diversity education in our schools, organizations, religious groups and our own families. We have been presented with an opportunity to use the power of our words and actions so that we can all say “never again” to acts of intolerance and divisiveness.

Thank you, Vashon, for standing up for diversity and tolerance and working toward a more tolerant society for all to enjoy without fear.

— Naomi Goldick, a social worker and mother,

has lived on Vashon for 12 years.

Editor’s note: The Beachcomber inadvertently omitted the last two paragraphs in Naomi Goldick’s column when we ran it last week. For the benefit of our readers, we ran it here in its entirety.