Thanks

Reflections on sadness, gifts and friendships

Today is the 6 month anniversary of Oct 7. Nothing about this day feels particularly different from the day, week or month before, except maybe the slow shift from “did this really happen?” to “how did this happen?” to today’s “how is this still happening?”

Some Jews who are probably related to Chaya Leah

In the “before” times, Chaya Leah and I often joked about how a good “pogrom” would help us gain more listeners. We thought – and yes i’m embarrassed to say that the joke was thought out – that Israel and the Jewish people would be in the news for a bit, and that would raise our profile momentarily, before the headlines turned elsewhere. We didn’t think that people would listen to us because friends they knew for years suddenly turned out to have more sympathy for terrorists than for those they kidnapped. Or that people would listen to fill the void of silence from their favorite celebrities after Oct 7^th. Or that they would start listening because all of a sudden their own identity felt controversial in the spaces they hang in.

I’ve said before that one of the things that hurt the most the last 6 months is not the hatred, but the having to explain to people why the hatred is wrong. It’s not necessarily the Columbia MFA student with a Keffiyah from Etsy, but her fellow student who doesn’t want to like your Instagram post calling for the release for the hostages, because they don’t want to “get involved.” It’s not only the Islamists calling to bomb Tel Aviv, but your co-worker who says that Hamas and Netanyahu are both really bad, and wishes they would stop fighting. It’s not those with pure hate in their heart, but your sensitive son or daughter or cousin who truly believes that the only way for peace and love to flourish is to stand by Hamas and advocate for a 75-year-old state to cease to exist.

A sister

I saw a woman today at the Free the Hostages rally in NYC holding a sign that said “Stop the war. Bring Them Home. Let Gaza Live”.

I was feeling kind of mushy, so I went up and thanked her for being there. I don’t agree that the war needs to stop – but she was standing there with us, amongst the sea of Israeli and American flags, in the tent. If you cry with us and fight with us for the release of the hostages, the destruction of Hamas and the flourishing of the state of Israel – whatever your Israel may look like - you’re in the tent. You can do it loudly or quietly, with resolve or with trepedation. But like it or not, you’re one of whatever “us” is.

Now, if you’re Jewish Voices for “Peace”, think the world would be a better place without Israel, and advocate for a ceasefire before saying one word about the victims and hostages – you can fuck right off to a different tent. As our friend and former guest the wonderful Yossi Klein Halevi said recently on Dan Senor’s podcast: “Peter Beinart is not in the tent, I don’t care if he goes to shul 50 times a day”

So we wanted to take a moment to thank you all for choosing to not be those people, for choosing our tent. Thanks for participating in normalcy. Maybe you’re the kind of person who goes to every protest, or maybe you’re afraid to even talk about Israel with any of your friends (are we your secret vice? Sexy!). Maybe you’re a Jewish Zionist who hasn’t stopped crying for our people, or a non-Jewish American with no horse in the race (my favorite) wondering what the hell has happened to YOUR people?  You may own a Ruth Bader Ginzburg mug or a Don’t Tread on Me flag, have pronouns in your bio or make fun of those who do, think the IDF is destroying too much of Gaza or not enough --  If you’ve found yourself over the last 6 months horrified, heartbroken, laughing and crying with us, welcome to the Hotel California of tents. You’ll like it here, and even if you don’t, it doesn’t matter because you don’t have any other friends left :)

I’ll end on one more note that may be even more offensive than that pogrom joke. Ready? Chaya Leah and I were talking recently (yea we talk without you), and we agreed that those of us in the tent have gotten an incredible gift. This new situation of grief and isolation has forced us to sharpen our swords, so to speak. We have had a chance to re-examine all our values, think deep and hard about why we are here, who our friends are, and what it is we truly believe. Every day we are challenged by criticism, and every day we get to look in the mirror, examine who we are, and resolve to stick to our values and faith (whatever that may be for you) despite the wrinkles that are magnified by others. Though we would exchange this “gift” in a heartbeat for all the souls taken from us, you have to admit that this new spiritual reckoning is pretty damn dope. Nice job, terrorists. You made us stronger.