I am a proud Zionist. I’m not afraid to say it. I’m never going to deny it. Those who hate Jews continue to attempt to turn that word in a slur. They want it to be something evil. They don’t understand what it even means. Their Jew hatred has them blind to what it means.
In response to this Jew hatred and attempt to reclaim the word Zionism, those who love Israel have fallen into the simplicity of hasbarah. For those who don’t know, Hasbarah is pro-Israel propoganda. It reduces the concept of Zionism and Israel to talking points without depth, without understanding.
So here we are today – people who hate Jews thinking Israel and Zionism is a racist and hateful ideaology. And people who love Israel thinking that Zionism means that Israel does no wrong. It’s not a helpful place and won’t address the core need.
As I spent a few days with my colleague from Dror Israel this week, we talked a lot both among ourselves and with those we were meeting with about Zionism. About what it really means. About the origin. Herzl defined zionism as a political and nationalist movement to establish a sovereign Jewish state in the ancestral Jewish homeland. It came during a time of rising antisemitism as a solution for the homeless Jewish people. Herzl believed that Jews were a nation without a homeland. As a result, the Jewish people had become unwelcome strangers in other nations; a target for hatred. His vision was designed to be both a political and practical one, creating a Jewish national home secured by public law, providing Jews with self-determination and security. Yet it wasn’t just about the land. Herzl emphasized the importance of restoring the “inner unity of the Jewish soul” and building a strong Jewish consciousness. He famously said, “Zionism is a return to Judaism even before there is a return to the Jewish land”. It’s far more than just the land although the land is a critical part of it.
If we want to call ourselves Zionists, it means we must know that yes, it is about having our ancestral homeland but it is also about being Jewish. The Zionist experiment, like the American experiment, is far from perfect and far from finished. When David Ben Gurion read the In Israeli Declaration of Independence, he said these words that are written in it:
“THE STATE OF ISRAEL will be open for Jewish immigration and for the Ingathering of the Exiles; it will foster the development of the country for the benefit of all its inhabitants; it will be based on freedom, justice and peace as envisaged by the prophets of Israel; it will ensure complete equality of social and political rights to all its inhabitants irrespective of religion, race or sex; it will guarantee freedom of religion, conscience, language, education and culture; it will safeguard the holy places of all religions; and it will be faithful to the principles of the Charter of the United Nations.”
This is what Israel and Zionism is about and strives to be, no matter what anybody else tells you. The simpler explanation that keeps resounding in my head was shared by my colleague Noam, from Dror Israel. He said that Zionism is about being a “just, safe and equally prosperous home for all of its inhabitants.” That is a great summary of Israel’s Declaration of Independence. You may ask, “what about Smoltrich and Ben-Gvir?” To that I would reply, that they are politicians and but a part of a democracy and the Israeli and Zionist experiment. Every country has their outliers and that’s who they are. You may ask, ‘What about Bibi?” and I would reply that in a democracy, sovereign nations have the right to elect their leaders. They don’t always choose who we may want or make the best choices. All you have to do is look back at the history of the American experiment to see that.
The more I learn about David Ben Gurion the more I am inspired by him. With the statues of him and his wife Paula near their home in Tel Aviv.
The American experiment is very similar to the Israeli and Zionist experiment, tying back to the words of the American Declaration of Independence where it states that, “We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness.” Yes, it’s clear that women and people of color were omitted in 1776 and the American experiment has adjusted for and continues to adjust for this throughout the years. The Free Press had a great article about the writing of that sentence today and how it got to it’s final form. Both Zionism and America are experiments that require adjustment, change, and constant work. They are not in their final form.
It’s also important to remember that the Israeli and Zionist experiment is only 77 years old. To put that in context, when the American experiment was 77 years old, we were in the middle of the civil war. Israel is a young country, the Zionist and Israeli ideals are being tested, just like the American ideals were tested in 1853. Slavery wasn’t abolished until 1865 when America was 79. Women didn’t get the right to vote until 1920, when America was 144 years old. We didn’t codify comprehensive civil rights into law in America until 1964, when America was 188 and marriage equality wasn’t made into law in America until 2015, when America was 239 years old. Perhaps giving some time and grace to a 77 year old country is a good idea. Unless you are obsessed with Jew hatred.
Those of us who identify as Zionists also need to let go of the belief that everything Israel does is perfect and right. The country, the leaders, and the people make mistakes. Unfortunately, due to the incredible Jew hatred that we face, we think that we can’t admit when things happen that aren’t correct. We buy into the Jew hating world view that any mistake made by Israel, her elected or military leaders, or any Israeli people, means the country itself should not exist and extended further, that Jews should not exist. This is a fallacy that we cannot afford to buy into. Admitting Israeli’s mistakes is how we truly become that “just, safe and equally prosperous home for all of its inhabitants.”
I have spent most of my career as a servant leader for the Jewish people. As a result, I have chosen not to serve in volunteer leadership for many organizations. The one that I have chosen to serve is the Center for Israel Education. Why have I chosen that one to serve? Because it is truly about what its name says. Israel Education. Not hasbara. It is fact based, uses source documents, and tells the story of Israel, warts and all. It provides knowledge so that those who want to support Israel, who want to defend Israel, have the real information, the whole story, and can address the lies told by so many who are really just Jew haters. If you haven’t been to their website, I urge to you go and to explore. Get lost in the information. Search for things you may have heard something about but don’t know the whole story. Read the original documents so you know what they say, not what somebody who is doing hasbara tells you they say nor what those who hate Jews tells you what happened.
If we truly believe in the State of Israel, in Zionism, and in Jewish self-determination, we need to make sure we know exactly what we are saying and what that means. Those who hate Jews don’t know what it means – it’s simply a line and word they can use to express their Jew hatred. When I was in Israel a few weeks ago, I had the opportunity to talk to my friend Shadi, who lives in an Arab village in Israel, and is Israeli, Arab, and a Zionist. We began an incredible conversation about the challenges he faces being Israeli, Arab, and loving the State of Israel in these tumultuos times. We need to have these conversations. We need to continue to work to ensure that the words of Israel’s Declaration of Independence remain our guiding principle. Israel needs to be a country for the benefit of all its inhabitants; based on freedom, justice and peace as envisaged by the prophets of Israel; ensuring complete equality of social and political rights to all its inhabitants irrespective of religion, race or sex; and guaranteeing freedom of religion, conscience, language, education and culture. When we are clear about what we are fighting for, we can fight for real Zionism and truly fight the Jew haters who want to steal the word from us. Make the effort to learn.
On my recent trip to Israel, we were in the Lower Galilee on a jeep ride. It was beautiful to ride through the lush area, climbing the mountain in the jeeps, until we reached an amazing view.
In the background, you see the Golan Heights. The Golan is a strategic area as whoever holds it has complete control of the valley below. Prior to 1967, Syria would sit there and shoot at the people living in the villages in the valley. In the 1973 war, the Golan was almost lost. The story of the tank unit in the 188th armored battallion is legendary. I first heard it a few years ago when we visited the unit as they proudly told the story of their unit. Totally outmanned, they managed to hold off the Syrians as the cost of their lives until support could arrive to fight and eventually win.
What I didn’t know is that my friend David’s cousin, Benny Katzin, was one of the leaders of that unit in 1973. While looking at that view, David told us his story. As he was preparing to leave for the weekend to spend both Shabbat and Yom Kippur with his family, Benny sensed that something was going on and there was something wrong. His overall commander told him not to worry and to go home and enjoy Shabbat and celebrate Yom Kippur with his family. He told him he had earned it.
Benny Katzin
The uneasy feeling wouldn’t leave him. As much as he wanted to see his family and spend the holiday with them, Benny couldn’t leave. His responsibility was too great. Instead of leaving that Friday afternoon to go home, he stayed on base just in case something happened. Something happened all right.
On Saturday October 6, 1973, the armies of Syria and Egypt attacked. Not only was it Shabbat, it was Yom Kippur. Israel was not prepared. On the Syrian-Israeli border, the Syrian army made incredible progress. They were so successful, so quickly, that they thought it was a plot to trick them into going to far so they stopped. This gave Bennie and his immediate commander, Yitzchak Ben Shosham the time to move any tanks that still worked to try to delay the Syrian army. They managed to hold off for another day while reinforcements were sent north, ultimately defeating Syria on the border. Bennie and his commander were fighting in the last 2 operating tanks against a Syrian force of 177. When only one tank worked, they both jumped into it to continue to fight. The were found dead together in that last tank. It had stopped being able to move so they used whatever ammunition they had until they ran out and were then killed.
Yitzchak Ben Shosham
What makes this story any different from hundreds of other acts of heroism at that time? Why bother with this specific story? Benny was a hero, not for what he did when the war began on October 6 or for what he did to defend Israel on October 7, 1973 when he died. It isn’t for taking on 177 Syrian tanks with just two Israeli tanks. If itsn’t because they were successful in delaying the Syrian army until reinforcements could arrive. Benny is a hero for what he did on October 5th. For choosing to stay. For listening to his gut and deciding it was more important to be there in case he was right rather than go home and hope he was wrong.
How many times have we been faced with that type of situation? We have a feeling something is going to happen. We know deep down that we should stay but we want to go home. We want to see our spouse, our children, our parents. We want to relax, eat a good meal, and not deal with the ongoing stress. How many of us do that instead of listening to our gut and doing the hard thing, staying.
Here in America, many of us have that feeling in our gut. Something is wrong. Something bad is going to happen. Whether it is something with women’s rights, individual rights, assassination attempts of leaders, school shootings, the rise of antisemitism, or many other things, we feel it deep within ourselves. The question is what are WE going to do? Are we going to ignore the signs that we see, the feeling in our gut, go home and hope it doesn’t happen? Are we going to sit at home and ignore the feeling, hoping if it happens, it is not to us or those we love? Are we going to leave the responsibility to somebody else because we can? Or are we going to be like Benny? Are we going to act? Are we going to say, “Not on my watch! I refuse to allow this to happen without doing what I can to stop it.”
We have the choice. Nobody would have faulted Benny for going home that Friday to spend Shabbat and Yom Kippur with his family. He would have been recalled on Saturday and been fighting against Syria on Sunday. He would have known. He would have to live with the fact that he knew in his bones that something was going to happen and left. He would have known that he could have made a difference on Saturday and didn’t.
The truth about Hamas, UNRWA, and Gaza is slowly coming out. The UN has already cut in half the number of women and children that have been killed in the war. If you take the numbers reported by Hamas/Gaza Health Ministry/UNRWA (they are all the same terrorists), in the UNRWA report from Tuesday July 9, 2024, they reported that 38,193 people have been killed. They don’t discern between terrorists and civilians. They don’t include anybody dying of natural causes. The same report estimated that 50,000 babies have been born in the past 9 months. This means that in this so called ‘genocide’, the population of Gaza has actually INCREASED even including the terrorists who have been killed and those who died of natural causes! While Israel is amazing in so many ways, they sure are terrible at genocide.
Yet the cries of genocide and apartheid remain. We’ve already seen how this ‘genocide’ is the only one in history where the victims have seen their population increase. If you go to Israel, you will soon realize so are the claims of apartheid. On my most recent trip, one of the participants got sick. I took her to the medical clinic that morning where she was treated by an Arab-Israeli doctor and nurse. When I got her prescription filled, it was by an Arab-Israeli pharmacist. The wonderful man who cleaned my hotel room every day, who I talked to multiple times a day and built a friendship with (and tipped him well for an awesome job done) is an Arab-Israel. Our medic and security guard one day was an Ethiopian-Israeli. One of our speakers shared with us that the number of Arab-Israelis choosing to serve in the IDF continues to grow significantly as are those who are choosing national service as an option.
Yet here in America and around the world, we are faced with these lies. We are faced with growing anti-semitism – I choose to call it Jew hatred because that’s what it really is. What are we going to do about it? How are we going to respond? Are we going to respond? Should we just sit back and hope it goes away? I have heard the arguments about Jews staying on the campuses where they are facing daily hatred both in and out of the classroom because we can’t abandon them. I disagree. Abandon them we must. Protecting ourselves is more important. Imagine a Jew-free Ivy league. How much would their prestige fall? How many Nobel Prize winners would now come from other Universities? How many innovators and business creators would now come from other Universities? The brain drain will affect them tremendously and our students stay safe. Imagine the amazing Jewish professors leaving the Ivy League hatred and improving the quality of education elsewhere. Rabbi David Wolpe writes about his year at Harvard and why he left. Imagine the talent leaving these hate filled institutions and going elsewhere.
It’s Friday in America now. The question is who are you going to be? Are you going to be Benny Katzin who chose to stay because he knew something was coming? Are you going to be like Benny and instead of going home to see family and celebrate the holiday, make the sacrifice to stay and fight? To be there because you know it is coming? It’s Friday in America. Are you going to look back with pride that you took action and didn’t let others face it without you or are you going to look back with regret because you could have made difference and didn’t. When your grandchildren ask what you did and where you were when it was Friday in America, how are you going to answer them? I know how I am going to answer them. My children already know the answer to tell their grandchildren about what I have done and what I am doing when it is Friday in America. What about yours?
I have written extensively about how behind the times I am when it comes to music. I recently discovered the 2001 song by Alan Jackson, Where were you? (when the world stopped turnin’). He wrote it about September 11, 2001 not long afterwards and performed it only 10 days later at the Country Music Awards (CMAs). I find it very impactful, not just as it reminds me of what I felt and was going through after 9/11 but also what I felt like on October 7th and continue to feel today.
Jackson said that he had strong feelings and wanted to write something that expressed them without being political or partisan. He wanted it to clearly reflect his thoughts and feelings. This song accomplished that in an incredible manner. Since October 7th, I have been writing to try to do the same. When I heard this song and when I listened deeply to the lyrics, they not only speak about September 11th and the feelings afterwards but easily could reflect October 7th and afterwards. Many Israeli artists have written songs about October 7th and after but I haven’t heard or seen a single American songwriter or singer with the exception of Bono and U2 changing the words of the song Pride: In the Name of Love to reflect October 7th instead of April 4 and the Supernova music festival. You can see and hear the pain Bono is feeling. I remember being incredibly moved when I heard it for the first time and even today, as I listen to it, it brings tears to my eyes. I wish they would re-release it with altered lyrics.
Where were you when the world stopped turnin’ That September day? Were you in the yard with your wife and children Or workin’ on some stage in L.A.?
Most people know where they were on September 11, 2001 as it is part of our American psyche. I know where I was. Who I was talking to. What TV station I was watching. Where I was when the first tower fell. Where I was when the 2nd tower fell. Keeping in touch with my brother, who worked in NYC at that time, to check on his safety. Being grateful that my dad wasn’t flying that day – he had flown the day before. Running a Hillel meant I had students to attend to and their needs. The pain everybody felt was palpable. September 11th and days that followed were filled with hugs, tears, conversations, and questions.
October 7th was very similar for me. I remember exactly where I was, where I sat, what TV stations I watched, and who I was with. I remember sending WhatsApp messages to friends and family in Israel to check on them. The uncertainty of where the attacks were going to occur that day. Was it just going to be near the Gaza envelope? Were they going to be attacked from the north and Lebanon? What was the PA going to do and would we see terrorists coming in from the East as well?
There are moments in our lives that we never forget the details. My wedding. The birth of my children. Family simchas. The last day I spent with my father before he died. Three Mile Island (I lived nearby in Harrisburg at the time). The assassination attempt on Ronald Reagan. John Lennon and Yitzhak Rabin being assassinated. 9/11. October 7th. In one way or another, the world stopped turning on all of those days. Some due to joy, some due to sadness. How the world stopping turning impacted us and what we do with the changes that result is what’s key.
Did you stand there in shock at the sight of that black smoke Risin’ against that blue sky? Did you shout out in anger, in fear for your neighbor Or did you just sit down and cry?
On 9/11, when the first plane hit the first tower, I remember thinking it was an accident. We watched in horror but didn’t realize we were under attack. It wasn’t until the second plane hit the second tower that the shock really hit. Where was going to be next? My brother worked in NYC and his building was attached to Grand Central Station. Was that the next target? My dad was supposed to fly that week and his flight was changed. I tried to remember when it was changed. Was it changed so that he was flying that day? Was it the day before? Was it the day after? What about my friends who worked and lived in NY? Then the plane was crashed into Shanksville, PA and then into the Pentagon. Were there going to be more attacks? If so, where? How?
On October 7th, I sat there in shock. I couldn’t believe what I was watching and hearing. As I communicated with friends and family in Israel, it didn’t get any better. I shouted in anger, in fear for my friends and family. I sat in shock at what I watched and as names were released, prayed that I didn’t know any of them and was also sad that these people, these members of my Jewish family, were killed or taken hostage.
I couldn’t move from my chair in front of the television. I couldn’t change the channel. I didn’t want to talk to anybody as I had nothing to say. It was so unbelievable. When I did talk, it was usually filled with anger at what happened, not understanding where the IDF was. Not understanding how this was continuing as long as it was. Not understanding how it even happened. The more that was reported, the angrier I got at Hamas for doing it and for the Israeli government for missing the signs and for allowing it to happen. I got angry at the Gazan people who were welcomed into the kibbutzim for work and ate dinner with the families that they sold out to Hamas, ensuring their death or kidnapping.
We all have our own way of dealing with this type of trauma. Jackson’s point is that whatever we did, however we dealt with it, is what we needed. He isn’t saying one is better than the other. He isn’t saying if you didn’t do it his way, you were wrong. It’s a recognition that however we dealt with 9/11 or with October 7th, it’s what we needed to do in the moment. And that’s good enough.
Did you weep for the children, they lost their dear loved ones Pray for the ones who don’t know? Did you rejoice for the people who walked from the rubble And sob for the ones left below?
On 9/11 it was common to weep for everybody. Those who were killed. Those who we didn’t know what happened. The families of both. We prayed for the yet to be born children who lost their father on 9/11. And the children who lost one or both parents. We celebrated those who managed to escape and to live. And mourned those who didn’t. We found heroes in the passengers that crashed the plane in Shanksville, PA instead of letting the terrorists crash it into what they wanted, which would have killed more people.
October 7th seems to be viewed differently by many. I recently saw the documentary about the SuperNova music festival. These young people who were there to celebrate music were massacred by evil terrorists. I saw the Hamas video which showed them celebrating the murder of civilians – the elderly, women, children, and adults. Kfir Babis was taken hostage at less than a year old and his brother at 4 years old are forgotten by most of the world. The American hostages have been forgotten by Americans and by our leaders. In Israel, there is an uprising against the government for how they are handling the hostage crisis. Families have been displaced for more than 5 months, both from the Gaza envelope and from the north, where Hezbollah is sending rockets every day into Israel.
The trauma of Israelis is forgotten. The trauma of the diaspora Jews is ignored. The world weeps for the children of Gaza who are dying because of Hamas but ignores the children of Israel who died because of Hamas. The Red Cross still hasn’t visited the hostages, 177 days later. They haven’t received their medication in 177 days. As the father of a child with Type 1 diabetes, I know what would happen if he went 177 days without insulin. After 9/11, America stood together in support of those impacted and those who lost loved ones. We stood together against evil. When it comes to October 7th, that stand only lasted a few days before they became held responsible for their own victimization by evil. It disgusts me. When I listen to Alan Jackson sing these words, I find myself burning inside, wondering why it doesn’t apply to Jews. Why does everybody else matter but we don’t. How can people who supposedly stand for morals, ethics, justice, equality, and the like actually show how fraudulent they are and not be held accountable.
My heart breaks daily for the families of the current hostages. It aches every day for the hostages that were released and their families, for what they must go through. It hurts for the families of the victims and the survivors of the SuperNova music festival massacre. I have a deep hole in my heart and my soul for everybody impacted by October 7th – the Jews, Bedouins, Arab-Israelis, Druze, Bhai’I, and the innocent Palestinians and people of Gaza (because there is a difference between the terrorists and the people). I wish the world mourned with me and stood up against evil. This verse reminds me that no matter how much we want to think that we can just fit in with society, we are always Jews first and the world will always look at us differently. They will weep and cry out for anybody other than us. They will mourn and fight for the rights of everybody other than us. We are the only ones who will stand up for ourselves.
The great Israeli leader Golda Meir had a number of quotes that reflects this reality. They include:
Did you burst out with pride for the red, white, and blue And the heroes who died just doin’ what they do? Did you look up to heaven for some kind of answer And look at yourself and what really matters?
After 9/11, American pride was as high as I have seen since the 1980 US Olympic Hockey team beat the Soviets and then won the gold medal. We were united as Americans. Nobody was going to stop us. We were going to kill the terrorists, restore democracy, rule the world. Our first responders were all heroes. I remember the flag from the Twin Towers being flown at Yankee Stadium. We begin singing ‘God Bless America’ in the 7th inning of baseball games. We thanked our soldiers for their service.
The flag from ground zero flying at Yankee Stadium in 2001
We looked to God for answers. As a Hillel Director, it was an incredible time as students flocked to ask existential questions. Nobody was afraid to ask a question and seem uneducated because everybody was asking questions. People reassessed their lives, their values. Seeing these widows and orphans, pregnant women who lost their husbands, hearing the recording from the planes, inspired us all to be better people. “Let’sRoll”, said by Todd Beamer, before he and the other passengers on Flight 93 attacked the cockpit and the terrorists, crashing the plane into a field before it could be used as a weapon, was an inspiration to us all. We asked ourselves what we would do, what could we do, if we were in a similar situation.
October 7th was different for the world. As Jews, as Zionists, we asked where was the IDF. We were united in our grief, not in our dominance. We knew that Israel would respond, that war was here, and that Gaza would be devastated, but we took no pride in that. We took no joy. We wanted our hostages back. We wanted our country back. We wanted to dream of peace back. We sang Hatikvah, ‘Hope’, the Israeli national anthem with hope for the safe return of the hostages, safety for the IDF soldiers who were going to war, hope that peace would come quickly. The heroes we saw were ordinary people who raced into danger to help others.
Bedouins like Ismail Al-Karnawi, who left Rahat with three other family members to head towards Kibbutz Be’eri in order to rescue residents from the inferno. Sari Al-Karnawi, who served as a police officer at the Nova party and rescued partygoers from the attack. Muhammad Abu Najah, an employee of the cleaning company at Nova, who fought against the terrorists, called first responders, and warned others of the presence of terrorists. Omar Abu Sabeelah, who in Sderot heard a woman’s scream and saw Odaya Suissa with her two daughters, aged 6 and 3, and her husband Dolev who was shot dead by the terrorists. Despite being wounded, Sabeelah managed to reach the girls in the car and get them out to safety. He later died from his injuries. Yousef Alziyadneh, who saved the lives of approximately 30 Nova party revelers who were under fire. Anis Abu Dabbus, a senior paramedic crew at the Rahat Magen David Adom station, who acted with his crew in the Rahat and Ofakim area, treating the wounded and providing lifesaving treatment to many.
Heroes like retired general Noam Tibon, who got in his car with his wife and headed towards Kibbutz Nahal Oz, where his son, daughter-in-law, and two young granddaughters were hiding in their safe room as the Kibbutz was attacked and overtaken by Hamas terrorists. Tibon encountered a battle between IDF soldiers and Hamas and picked up a weapon and helped defeat the terrorists. He took 2 of the wounded soldiers to his wife who drove them to the hospital for treatment while he continued on foot until being picked up by another retired general who was answering the call and taken to the Kibbutz. 60 Minutes did a story on his heroism.
Countless other heroes like my friend Yaron Buskila, who left his house without a weapon to fight the terrorists and save lives. Yaron shared a little of what it was like and that little bit that he shared showed me not just his bravery, but the bravery of so many Israelis; Jewish, Bedouin, Arab, and Christian on October 7th.
On October 7th we all looked to heaven for an answer. An answer that will never come. Instead, we began to question ourselves about what really matters. What is important to us and how do we show that. How do we reprioritize our lives around the things that matter instead of the things we thought mattered before October 7th. It’s amazing to have lived in the post 9/11 world and the post October 7th world. Two terrorist attacks. Two tragedies. Two horrible things. Two very different outcomes and feelings.
I’m just a singer of simple songs I’m not a real political man I watch CNN, but I’m not sure I can tell you The diff’rence in Iraq and Iran
I find this to be one of the most profound lines in the song. So many of us don’t know what’s really going on. We didn’t know who the Taliban was before 9/11. We couldn’t tell you the difference between the Shiite country of Iran and the Sunni country of Iraq other than their rulers.
The same holds true after October 7th but it’s even worse. People don’t only know what Hamas and Hezbollah are, they don’t know that Gaza hasn’t been ‘occupied’ since 2005. They use phrases like “From the River to the Sea” and don’t know what river or what sea they are talking about. They use words like Apartheid and Genocide because they sound good and are powerful without understand the facts or definition of those words. They talk about the high number of civilians that have been killed, not understanding that war is terrible and civilians are killed, but that Israel is nearly 9 times better than the norm in minimizing civilan deaths. Instead of addressing the evil of Hamas, people are feeding into ancient Jewish tropes and feeding global antisemitism.
Israel-Hamas figures compared to the normal rates in war
I am concerned that this ignorance, this hate, will result in catastrophic events happening in the United States as we blame the victim and both encourage and allow the evil to grow.
But I know Jesus and I talk to God And I remember this from when I was young Faith, hope, and love are some good things He gave us And the greatest is love
One of my favorite things about Judaism is the way we look to God, to the Torah, for answers. There are always lessons to learn. Since October 7th I have spent much more time asking questions, learning Torah with Rabbis, and working to understand my role as a Jew in this world.
There is a line in Pirkei Avot, the lessons of our fathers, that always speaks to me. It comes from 2:16 and says that Rabbi Tarfon used to say, “It is not your duty to finish the work, but neither are you at liberty to neglect it.” After October 7th this hit home in a very different way. I am not a soldier and can’t fight with the IDF. I am not an Israeli citizen. I do not have the duty to finish the work of the war. However, I am also not able to just neglect the situation and not do my part. There are many ways to do my part and I have learned that there is much I can do. We all have roles to play and our responsibility is not to do everything but rather to play our part, to do what we can. Speak out. Get educated. Encourage others to learn and not just repeat things they hear.
We can also work to live with faith, hope, and love. This doesn’t mean excuse the behavior of the terrorists or those who repeat the lies because they don’t know better. We can have faith that Israel will defeat evil. We can have faith in God and the IDF. And we can focus on love. Love of the Jewish people. Love of our mishpacha (family). Love of Israel. Love of our family. Love of the teachings of the Torah (which if you know me doesn’t sound like something I would say.)
In these terrible times, in these times of desperation, we can still live with faith, hope, and love. We can choose to look to the future with positivity or negativity. We can do our part to make the world a beautiful, better place or we can allow it to die. The choice is ours.
Where were you when the world stopped turnin’ That September day? Teachin’ a class full of innocent children Or drivin’ down some cold interstate?
Did you feel guilty ’cause you’re a survivor? In a crowded room did you feel alone? Did you call up your mother and tell her you love her? Did you dust off that Bible at home?
This verse reminds us that the world did stop turning on both 9/11 and on October 7th. We don’t have to pretend that it didn’t. President Bush was reading to a class full of innocent children. We were all doing something when it happened, when we got the news.
President Bush reading to children as terrorists attacked on 9/11
We don’t have to live with survivors’ guilt. I wasn’t living in NY on 9/11 or in Israel on October 7th. Why would I have survivors’ guilt? Because I know people who were. I know people who lost loved ones. My life was altered only in the inconveniences I had to deal with after 9/11. October 7th meant that I didn’t get to go to Israel in November like I had planned. Yet the survivors’ guilt is real because I am part of a community. While I am an American, Israel is my homeland. I have a strong tie to Israel and my homeland, my love, was critically injured and damaged on October 7th. That is where my survivors’ guilt comes from. Because I haven’t been able to go to Israel since October 7th.
There are plenty of times when I do feel alone. People chanting antisemitic tropes. Dressing in Nazi uniforms and flying Nazi flags. When I see friends posting hateful comments that they don’t even necessarily understand are hateful and hurtful. I have learned who my friends really are and who aren’t. This can be painful but it’s also refreshing because I don’t have to include those people in my life any longer.
After 9/11 I made sure to talk to my parents, my siblings, and my loved ones. It was a reminder of how short life is. The same thing happened after October 7th. This type of brutality and horror reminds us how precious life is. How limited our time really is. What and who is really important to us. Last week I reached out to my friends who are Palestinian and live in that area. I wanted to see how they are doing. I wanted to let them know I was thinking of them. I wanted to let them know I consider them my friend no matter what is happening in the world. And that I want to see them when I get to Israel in the near future because they matter. I choose to live in faith, hope, and love, not in hate.
After 9/11 people began asking questions about God and opened a door that had been closed for them. October 7th was the same. The opportunity to study, to learn, to ask questions, and to explore Judaism, God, and spirituality was there and many of us took it. It opened me up to learning more, to being a better person, and to ask why I behave certain ways and is that reflective of the person I want to be. We have an opportunity to do better and to be better. I am taking that opportunity.
Did you open your eyes and hope it never happened Close your eyes and not go to sleep? Did you notice the sunset for the first time in ages And speak to some stranger on the street? Did you lay down at night and think of tomorrow Go out and buy you a gun?
After 9/11 I know a lot of people who did close their eyes and hope it never happened. People who struggled with sleep. I wasn’t one of them. But after October 7th, I was. I hoped it was a nightmare. I hoped I would wake up and it was only a nightmare. I struggled to sleep and when I did sleep, it wasn’t restful. October 7th was much more personal for me than 9/11. Unfortunately, I think most of the country has forgotten the horror of 9/11 and October 7th happened ‘over there’ and ‘to them’ and doesn’t affect their daily lives.
I have chosen to invest more in random acts of kindness. Today I was at the grocery store behind a couple with a child that has a disability. It meant that they were going very slow. I was stuck behind them. Instead of getting frustrated and trying to push by, I took a deep breath and watched them with their daughter. And found joy in it. Instead of being angry and resentful, I was grateful and filled with love. All because I took a deep breath and didn’t push past them. I say hello to strangers and talk with them as people, not strangers. I will hold a door open, let somebody get in front of me, and enjoy the beauty of the day.
The world is a scary place and has only gotten scarier since October 7th. Being so public as a Jewish leader, I felt targeted and at risk. Long before October 7th, I did get training on firearms and made sure that I have them to protect myself. They are things I hope to only use on the range when I practice. But I won’t be a victim. I won’t allow my family to be at risk from the hatred that exists in the world. And I know I am not alone in these thoughts, concerns, and actions.
Did you turn off that violent old movie you’re watchin’ And turn on I Love Lucy reruns? Did you go to a church and hold hands with some strangers Stand in line to give your own blood? Did you just stay home and cling tight to your family Thank God you had somebody to love?
This last verse asks what we are doing differently. While there are specific things listed, it’s really about who you are and what you are doing as a result of 9/11 and now October 7th. There are many things I do differently today than I did prior to October 7th. I speak out much more often against antisemitism and hatred. I reach out to those I love and to my friends. I make sure my friends who are different religions, races, cultures, etc. know I care about them and that I am interested in our similarities, not our differences.
Like Pirkei Avot teaches us, I have an obligation to help with the work. So I give blood, hold doors, exhibit patience, spend more time with my family, tell those that I love that I love them. I invest in friendships and allow those that have been shown to not be investable to die so that I am investing in those of value.
I appreciate what I have in my life. I am a rich man because I want what I have rather than having what I want. I am grateful for the life that I get to live rather than worrying about the life I wish I had. I am more connected spiritually and am open to all that the universe brings to me.
I am committed to making the world a better place. That starts with those around me and in my local community. It means doing things for the right reasons. President Ronald Reagan had on his desk a sign that said, “There is no limit to what a man can do or where he can go if he doesn’t mind who gets the credit.” That is how I live my life post October 7th. I don’t care who gets the credit. I don’t care about the recognition. I only care about what we can do together. What we can accomplish. How we can make the world a better place for all.
The paperweight from President Ronald Reagan’s desk
Where were you when the world stopped turnin’ On that September day?
The song ends with the haunting question that it began with. It reminds us that the world did stop turning. Both on 9/11 and October 7th the world was forever altered. We were forever altered. Where were we? What did we do as a result? How did we change? How did we change the world? What did we do to make the world a better place and to get it turning once again.
At the end of the day, all we can control is our own actions. What are you going to do today to make the world a better place? How are you going to change the world today? Remember that just because the world stopped turning on October 7th doesn’t mean we are free from the obligation to make sure it is turning once again. I’m up for the challenge and I hope you will join me.
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