My elevator ride with Mahmoud Khalil

Mussie and I were in DC this week, where we were warmly welcomed by Secretary Noem at DHS, Senator Rounds, Congressman Johnson, and Senate Majority Leader Thune’s office. We discussed matters relating to the Jewish community in South Dakota and across the country, as well as the importance of the U.S.–Israel alliance.
The architecture of our institutions is magnificent, and recognizing the power held in those offices inspires awe and reverence. They say when you're in Washington, you never know who you'll bump into…
While waiting in the security line at the Hart Senate Office Building, I noticed standing right in front of me none other than Mahmoud Khalil. I figured that would be the end of it, but as we both walked toward the elevators, it became clear we were heading in the same direction and ended up in the same elevator.
There I was, face to face with a man who has become the symbol of the protests and hate at Columbia University, someone whose words and actions caused fear among Jewish students, and their parents. Just a day earlier on CNN, he couldn’t bring himself to say a negative word about Hamas or Palestinian terrorism.
A lot ran through my mind at that moment. But as I stood there in the elevator looking at him, I saw him look down, clearly uncomfortable standing next to someone he recognized as a religious Jew. He seemed unsure of himself, even ashamed. 
I saw him not as the symbol the media portrays of resistance, not as a figure of courage or strength, but as a very small man who, most likely, had come to plead his case before Congress and speak his mind, as is his right.
Reflecting later, I realized how much the tables have turned from previous generations, how fortunate we are to live in this country. My great-grandparents, who lived in Russia and Europe, would probably have been terrified to step foot near the halls of their governments, and to pass a known personality who spewed hateful rhetoric would have likely struck fear in their hearts. But here in America, we feel safe and secure. Here, it is those who promote hate and support our enemies that find themselves uncertain walking these halls. I was very comfortable walking in Congress with my head held high. That stark difference was not lost on me.
I grew up reading the stories of Rabbi Yosef Yitzchak Schneersohn, the sixth Lubavitcher Rebbe, and how he defiantly visited government offices in Moscow, risking his life to to advocate for the needs of Soviet Jewry. The danger for the Jews then was very real. But here, thank G-d, we are blessed. We are treated with honor and dignity. We can walk in our government offices confidently. We feel safe, like we should.
The overwhelming majority of Americans support and appreciate the Jewish people, and we pray that continues. That support is strongly reflected in Congress in their support here at home and for our brothers and sisters in the Holy Land of Israel. And I was able to hear it in my conversations, and feel it in the air.
It reminded me of the words of the prophet Jeremiah: "Seek the peace of the city where you dwell… for in its peace, you will find peace." And of G-d’s eternal promise to Abraham: "I will bless those who bless you." May G-d bless America.