I went to get my hair cut and beard trimmed yesterday. I’ve gone to the same barbershop since we moved to Central Florida. It is a true, old school barbershop. What makes it a little unique is that it is a Latin barbershop. Most of the people working there do not speak much English. The owner, Gomez, does and he usually cuts my hair now. My previously guy, who was great, didn’t speak English so we communicated with pictures and hand guestures, unfortunately left.

It is a barbershop with an interesting history. When we began going there in 2016, it was in a different location than it is now. A year or so into going there, there was a major gang shooting there leaving one barber dead and a few injured. It closed for a few months and then reopened. I never thought of going anywhere else. Maybe that says more about me in many ways than anything else. I wasn’t going to be afraid and I wanted to continue supporting this small business where I had become friendly with the owner. They added a buzzer to be let in, tinted the windows, and business went on as usual. A few years later, the land was sold and they had to move. The new location is a little further away, in a little sketchier area, but once again, I wasn’t going to stop supporting the business.

When I went yesterday, the only person working was a young barber that I had never met before. He didn’t speak English so I showed him a picture of what I wanted and we managed to figure things out. He cut my hair and we didn’t talk because of the language barrier. As we got near the end of the haircut, he took out the straight razor to get the close shave and make things look good. A man I don’t know, where we have a language barrier, has a razor to my neck, and I’m laying back with my eyes closed. I began to think about what it would take for an Israeli Jew to get into a barber chair and let a Palestinian Arab not just give them a haircut with sharp scissors but then take a straight razor to their neck. It was something that I no longer could imagine. Prior to October 7th, I could imagine places in Israel where relationships between Jews and Arabs are good where this could happen. Today, I can’t fathom it.

The buzzer rang and two teenage latin boys came into the barbershop. The conversation was all in Spanish. I had no idea what they were saying and the barber had the straight razor on my neck. I tried to imagine two Arab teens coming into an Arab barbershop, speaking to the Arab barber in Arabic, with a Jewish Israeli who doesn’t speak Arabic in the chair, a straight razor on their neck. Again, it was incomprehensible. How can something be so absolutely incomprehensible in one place that is so easily done in another? What is the difference that makes that happen? How do we change the reality?

It comes down to hate. The terrorists hate the Jews. They want them all dead. They hate the Christians, Druze, and even the Arabs who work with the Jews. There is no compromise. There is no opportunity for commonality. When there isn’t hate, there is opportunity. I saw it myself in 2019 when I spent 4 days meeting with leaders of Palestinian civil society. Those who lived in hate gave me no hope, made me angry and frustrated. Those who chose not to live in hate gave me lots of hope and made me want to do better. When I was in Israel in May, I walked from Ben Yehuda Street through East Jerusalem to the American Colony Hotel. I walked through Arab neighborhoods, past Arab schools getting out for the day, passed by Arabs on the street. I met my friend who owns the bookstore at the American Colony Hotel and we spent 90 minutes talking about October 7th, the hope for peace, if the 2 state solution was dead, Hamas, hostages, and much more. It was a thoughtful and insightful conversation. I didn’t agree with everything he said and he didn’t agree with everything I said, but we had a great dialogue. It gave me hope. In September while doing work with Dror Israel, a client of mine, we went to visit their youth movement, Hanoar Haoved, in Ein Mahil, an Arab village. This is an Israeli, Zionistic Youth Movement that is in EVERY Druze Village in Israel along with 55 ARAB VILLAGES with over 20,000 Arab children involved. The Mayor of Ein Mahil came to speak with us because he enrolled his daughters in Hanoar Haoved. We spoke to leaders of the movement in their 20s, 30s, and 40s, Arabs who grew up in the movement and have dedicated their lives to it. We met with children in the youth movement and it was beautiful. Throughout the time at Ein Mahil and ever since, this has given me hope.

Israel is a different place today than it was on October 6, 2023. The hostages remain front and center in our hearts and minds. The IDF soldiers, risking their lives every day, are in my thoughts. My friends who are serving or who’s children are serving in the IDF, the families dealing with the challenges of having their mother and/or father away for long stretches of time due to milium (reserve duty). One of the people I met in September was from Kibbutz Nir Oz. He lost his mother and father on October 7th although he didn’t know his father was murdered for a few weeks and didn’t know his mother was murdered until July 2024 when they found her body in Gaza. I thought of him today as hostages Arbel Yehoud and Gadi Mozes were released from Gaza. Both are from Kibbutz Nir Oz, a small kibbutz of 380 people on October 7th. I can’t imagine the way he is feeling, watching them come home. I can’t imagine the emotions he has thinking of his parents, who were murdered after being taken hostage, and his friends and neighbors, who were also taken, finally coming home after 482 days of captivity.

The Unites States and the world are different since October 7th as well. Antisemitism is on the rise and we see violence against Jews and Jewish organizations and buildings. It is often times hard to find hope. It often feels that where we are and where we are heading is hopeless. We cannot allow that to be our reality. Without hope we are lost. I think of two different quotes about hope from two remarkable people. Anne Frank wrote, “I don’t think of all the misery, but of the beauty that remains”.  The Reverend Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. said, “We must accept finite disappointment, but never lose infinite hope”.  In these challenging times, I think of their words and of my 4 days in 2019, my meeting with my friend in May in East Jerusalem, and the visit to Ein Mahil in September to give me hope for a better future. I refuse to be lost so I will continue to find hope.