Shabbat is supposed to be peaceful. It is the one day of the week set aside for rest, for us and for prayer. This past week, Shabbat was about something different.

I typically don’t use electricity on Shabbat, but this week, I decided to use my phone alarm to wake up in time for morning prayers. When I turned over in bed to stop the ringing, I saw it. BBC informed me: “Multiple casualties at a Pittsburgh synagogue…after a gunman opened fire at the time of a service.” From the moment I woke up, I knew that this Shabbat was not about rest, reflection and prayer; it was about sadness, mourning and questions. The victims were congregants who arrived at synagogue to pray and gather as a community, just as I intended to do when I first heard my alarm. Moreover, they were celebrating a profound Simcha (happy event), as a newborn child was being welcomed to the community and the world.

Eleven people died, killed in cold blood. Killed because they were Jewish. This attack was not random, but rather an act of terror directed at people merely because of their identity.

So where are we left as Washington University students?

I was left sleepless. On Saturday night, I tossed and turned in bed, thinking and asking questions. Why violence? Why Jews? Why Pittsburgh? It was violence because evil and hatred exist and are alive and well in our country and in the world. The next two questions are notably more troubling. Why Jews? Jews were targeted because of an integral part of their identity: The Jewish community is empathetic and guided by their actions. These Jews in Pittsburgh were targeted for their support of HIAS (Hebrew Immigrant Aid Society) and dedication to assisting refugees in America. Throughout history, Jewish people have witnessed and experienced the most vulgar types of discrimination, and, from that, we have cultivated a profound awareness of those struggling around us and a desire to act on the injustices facing them. Perhaps this is a part of why we are hated and killed. Hate and evil has risen from the kindness and compassion we have learned to practice. So, what can we do?

This question plagued me as I lay without sleeping and closed my eyes without resting. We are students in St. Louis, a city with its own grave, ongoing history of injustice. This attack could have happened here. It could have happened at either of the two campus Jewish centers or any of the nearby congregations. It could have happened in my childhood town. And it could have happened in yours.

The fear, mourning and prayer that emerges from an anti-Semitic attack such as this, a racist attack like the Charleston church shooting or any directed act of baseless hatred and violence must drive action. Today, I do not know what that action should look like, but I do know how it should feel. It should feel like hope. Hope that we can move forward and build a more understanding and loving society, where people cherish diversity instead of assault it. It should feel like compassion.

There is one action I know we must take. We have to hold on to the values we cherish and the people we love. Hug those who are suffering, being discriminated against, or coping with any type of injustice. And today, just hug your Jewish friends a little bit tighter.