Campus Life Post-October 7th

If I had a dollar for every time someone has asked me in the past two years whether, and how, campus life has changed since October 7^th, I could probably retire from the very work that brought me to the campus in the first place.

But I wouldn’t. The task feels too vital.

Since that dark day, there have been shifts. Some are visible from the outside. Many are subtle and internal. And the truth is more complex than the headlines appearing on Jewish news sites and WhatsApp groups.

There are certainly students like Taylor, a young woman from a secular background who, almost overnight, became a fierce campus advocate. She tracks every incident of antisemitism from fellow students, professors, and administrators. Her documentation has been used by major national organizations. She has become, in some respects, an avatar of Jewish student activism.

But for every “Taylor,” there are dozens who continue living much as they did before. They care about the news – more than ever, actually – but that hasn’t necessarily translated into greater religious observance. Some are overwhelmed, others disenchanted. Most simply try to keep up with their classes, friendships, and ordinary college pressures while the world around them feels like anything but normal.

The reality is that Jewish students now live in a duality. On one hand, the campus environment has become hyper-fixated on Israel. Student government meetings that should focus on budgets and club policies instead spiral into arguments about the Middle East. Our student government passed a BDS resolution on Yom Kippur, a clear “shot across the bow” at the Jewish student body.

On the other hand, most Jewish students genuinely do not live in fear. They are aware, sometimes frustrated, but not frightened. They attend class, study in the library, party with friends, join clubs, and carve out a normal college experience. This paradox is one of the defining features of post-October 7^th campus life: The environment is more charged, but the day-to-day lives of many Jewish students remain surprisingly familiar.

Some students have found that October 7^th cracked something open in their sense of Jewish identity. They pay closer attention; they are more curious. The work with them feels smoother, more organic. Others have become more skeptical, shaped by anti-Israel rhetoric or by critiques of the Israeli government. With them, the work is different – not confrontational but careful. We sidestep the thorniest geopolitical questions long enough to reach the human ones underneath. We make sure political ideology – especially when born of ignorance – never becomes a barrier to Jewish belonging.

In our own way, much like the students themselves, our organization navigates a new duality as well. We’ve stepped further into “political” territory than ever before: We hung an Israeli flag outside our center and have partnered more closely with the wonderful local Hillel and Chabad to respond to antisemitism and to memorialize the victims of October 7^th. 

Yet our core mission continues above the fray of campus – or global – politics. We still teach Torah in a dozen weekly programs and tens of private sessions; we host spirited Shabbos meals, promote trips to Poland and Israel, support students’ professional development; and most critically, we build deep relationships, MEOR’s signature focus both before the war and today.

So has campus life changed? In some ways yes, and in others, no.

The climate has changed. The political landscape has changed. The spotlight on Jewish students has changed. But many students haven’t changed as much as people assume. They still want community. They still want support. They still want a place where they can be Jewish without being forced into advocacy mode. And our work of connection, exploration, and inspiration remains as vital as ever. Perhaps more vital than ever.

We know now that Jewish identity on campus is fragile and strong at the same time. It needs tending. It needs warmth and authenticity. It needs a center, literally and figuratively, that never closes its doors.

Raised in Baltimore, Rabbi Ari Koretzky is Co-Founder and Executive Director of MEOR Maryland, serving students at the University of Maryland, College Park. He also hosts the Iyun podcast, and lives with his family in Silver Spring, MD.

As our community grows, MEOR is preparing to build a new center to support its work; those interested in learning more can reach out at rabbik@jterps.com.