Question 10: How do we choose connection?

On continuing to seek connection in a world that pushes us to silo

I have to continue to ask things of us.

It’s difficult. We are holding too much, suffering too much, grieving too much. How could anyone ask more at this time of horror? When our students are afraid and our families are afraid and our friends are afraid and we are afraid— when we gather for Kristallnacht commemorations in the midst of calls to boycott businesses run by Israeli Jews, when we walk to shul and someone is walking just a little too closely behind us and we feel our hearts catch in our throats, when we turn on the news or scroll through IG and the content is so focused on today’s horrific losses that it has forgotten last month’s? When we are already being called kapos for standing for peace or for letting the words “Gaza” or “Palestine” cross our lips with anything but contempt? When we are trying with everything we have just to get through our days without screaming, to hold our loved ones gently, to deal with the mundane details of life?

But I have to continue to ask more.

I have to ask us to really listen to what other Jews are saying. And I have to ask us to be open to having our own perspectives shift.

This isn’t easy. This may be among the most difficult asks I could make. And I must ask. Because if we cannot listen, if we cannot open our hearts to narratives that threaten our own, we will fall into extremism, and extremism is what has led us here to begin with. Now, ideally, we would encounter different narratives face to face, or at the least in a direct encounter with someone who thinks differently. But not all of us have that opportunity, or, even if we do, are ready for it.

So here are two Jewish narratives. Two of many. Two that I’ve seen over and over in these last few weeks. And I’m going to ask you to read them, because my guess if you’re like most people I know is that you’re reading a lot of narratives that you agree with, and skimming or scrolling past a lot that you disagree with. And we need to encounter narratives that challenge us.

Two narratives. It may be that one reads to you as truth and the other as lies. It may be that one speaks your heart and the other breaks it. I ask you to read on anyway, and to look in both for truth, despite the seeming contradictions. I ask you to read slowly and to notice your breath and, if it quickens, to shut your eyes and slow it down. And then I ask you to keep reading.

Here is the first narrative:

On October 7, 2023, Hamas broke a ceasefire they’d never really abided by anyway in an unimaginably heinous manner. Every Jew’s worst fears came true as thousands of terrorists crossed from Gaza into Israel and began indiscriminately murdering civilians, including hundreds of young adults at a music festival and whole families of kibbutzniks burned alive in their safe rooms. It wasn’t just murder. It was torture. Family members slowly killed in front of each other. Children shot while terrorists raided their kitchens. Women raped. And there were the kidnappings— over 200 Israelis, again mostly civilians, many children, taken back with the terrorists into Gaza. It has been over a month and only four hostages have been released. And we know that some of the captured were in desperate need of medical attention. Some of our loved ones are Israeli and we’ve been checking in with them every day. We have family that’s been called up to the IDF and we worry for their safety. Every day, Israelis, and Jews around the world, are consumed with fear and grief. But sometimes it seems that we are the only ones, because everyone else seems only able to talk about Palestinians. Palestinians are the reason this happened! We tried to give them control of Gaza nearly 20 years ago and this is what they do in response! We gave them the whole land! We let them have elections! When news spread of the attack, Palestinians danced and cheered in the streets!

And around the world, people cheered with them. Leftists. People who asked us to stand with them when their people were at risk. People we have stood with. For Black Lives Matter. Against the Muslim Ban. For LGBTQ+ rights. Over and over we’ve stood up for these causes because we’re compassionate, justice-driven people who care for others. And now, when our people has been attacked, we’re seeing our so-called “allies” cheering? In what possible world is this ok? In what possible world is it ok to say that killing Jewish civilians is an act of decolonization, of legitimate resistance?! We’ve been putting out grave markers for our dead this week as we reach 30 days after their funerals, and all the world can talk about is civilian casualties in Gaza. We don’t want to see dead innocents there, but what choice do we have? Israel has a right to defend itself. In the whole world there is only one country that stands for Jews no matter what, and all of its neighbors want to destroy it. Don’t you remember when Israel was founded, after the death of 6 million Jews in Europe? And it’s not like that was our first time in the land. There have been Jews living in Israel for thousands of years. Whether you believe in God or not, you have to acknowledge an historic Jewish connection to this land. Our sacred texts come from there, and all of our stories, and today it’s where half the Jews in the world call home. If we don’t stand up for ourselves, if we put down our weapons, Hamas will only use that to continue to build up reserves. They’ve said that they want to do what they did on October 7 over and over until Israel is destroyed. They want to kill all of the Jews. What choice do we have? How dare you be mad at us for defending our borders against terror? We’re liberal— we support democratic candidates and can’t stand Trump. We strive to be inclusive and antiracist. But at some point we have to stand with Israel. Don’t tell us to call for a “ceasefire” when all that will do is let more of our people die. Be with us in our grief, and support us as we support Israel. We don’t have a choice. And we have to be loud about it, because otherwise more innocent people are going to die.

Here’s the second narrative:

On October 7, 2023, Hamas fighters murdered 1400 Israelis, mostly civilian, and took over 200 Israelis hostage. It was a terrible day and we feel for those impacted and their loved ones. Some of our loved ones are Israeli and we’ve been checking in with them every day. We have family that’s been called up to the IDF and we worry for their safety. But that isn’t the only important thing here. Why did Hamas get to the point of attacking civilians? Because Israel has been occupying Palestinian land for generations. Gaza is subject to attacks from Israel all the time. The people exist in an open air prison, unable to leave. With half the population under the age of 18, there are Gazans who’ve spent their whole lives trapped. And since October 7, Israel has engaged in a bombing campaign on a scale never before seen. We’ve lost over 10,000 Gazans in a month. Innocents. Yes, what Hamas did was terrible, but are we supposed to stand by as Israel engages in this bombardment? We’re Jews and this is being done in our name, and we can’t stand it. Israel is an occupying force, built in a colonizing model that empires have used to hurt indigenous people around the world for centuries and that the British empire used to hurt indigenous people in Palestine, and Jews let it happen. Jews! Who should have known better because of trauma, because of the Holocaust and the pogroms, because of centuries of persecution. But we not only let Palestinians be oppressed but became the oppressing force. And then we lied about it— not teaching our kids about the Nakba, not encouraging dialogue and relationship between our people and theirs.

So generations learned that Israel was “a land without a people for a people without a land,” and then we learned about expulsion and occupation and the apartheid state our so-called “homeland” has become. And on the “homeland” note, Israel doesn’t think a lot of us are Jewish! If we’re patrilineal, or if we converted with anyone but the strictest of authorities, we can’t even get listed as “Jewish” on our visas. But Israel claims to speak for us anyway. And right now their claiming to speak for us means indiscriminate slaughter. Bombing Gaza isn’t going to destroy Hamas! All it’s going to do is keep killing innocent children. So we call for a ceasefire. We call for a ceasefire because we’re Jews and this is being done in our name. We call for a ceasefire because we don’t want the hostages killed in the bombing any more than we want Palestinians killed. We call for a Free Palestine because we believe that all peoples, including Jews, deserve freedom, but we don’t want to get our freedom at the expense of someone else’s. We say “never again is now” because we see our elected officials and our Jewish leaders turning away as thousands are killed. And we have to be loud about it, because otherwise more innocent people are going to die.

Did you read both? Truly? Maybe you need to go back and read one or the other again.

And now I need you to find the pain in both. Not where you agree or disagree, not where you’re enraged or relieved, but where you see pain. If we can’t do that— if we can’t name the pain in our sibling’s story, whether we feel it in our own hearts or not— we’re going to lose as a Jewish people, whether we as Jewish individuals get what we want or not. And if we can't find shared truth in our sibling’s story, whether we like it or not, we’re going to lose as a Jewish people.

So read. And find the pain. And find the shared truth. And let it lead you to ask your own questions, start your own dialogue, and deepen your own connection with the mixed multitude that is our people.

I meant to post this a few minutes ago, before candle lighting, but I have a feeling God will forgive me. Shabbat Shalom, dear ones.

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