Where were you when the world stopped turning?

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’s Roll”, 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.

Survival of the Jewish people

Over the past 3 months, I have discovered substack and the amazing wealth of great writing that is there.  Bari Weiss’s The Free Press and Kareem Abdul Jabbar are my two favorites so far and I have paid subscriptions to both.  I am currently exploring Daniel Gordis’s Israel From the Inside with a free subscription to decide if it’s worth paying for as well.  His piece on Friday moves me closer to paying for the content.

In Friday’s piece, he writes about the letters left by IDF soldiers for their families in case they are killed in combat, highlighting two that have been publicly released and discussing the number of IDF soldiers who have them either on their bodies or left in their rooms at their home.  In his words, these letters “reveal a young Israeli generation astounding in the depth of its commitment to the Jewish people.”  And more importantly to me, he states, “If the West is to survive, its young women and men will need to emulate them.”

Those statements and the article itself made me think deeply about the future of Judaism, of Jewish life in America, the future for my children and future grandchildren.  It brought me back to my childhood and talking with my grandparents about Jewish life when it was so different than today.  I also thought about my own Jewish identity, both what it means to me and how I express it.  I thought about the way I grew up and how I live now, both the similarities and the clear differences. 

For many people, what it means to be Jewish changed in the aftermath of October 7th.  For some, it was because of the murder, rape, kidnapping, and other atrocities that were reported.  For others, it was watching their ‘friends, colleagues, and allies’ abandon them.  Others watched or experienced the increase in antisemitism and Jew hatred around the country, in their backyard or on their alma mater’s campus.  They were shaken by the hatred they saw or experienced.  Many people, for the first time in their lives, realized that they were Jews first and that every other identity was secondary.  It was similar to the revelation the Jews of Germany experienced in the 1930s. 

I have wondered about the future of Jewish life in America for most of my 25-year career in the Jewish world.  I have watched as Jews of all ages have drifted away from Jewish life and spent more time and resources in the non-Jewish world.  I have seen both in my personal life and with my friends and others, the lack of synagogue affiliation, fewer and fewer people keeping kosher (I grew up in kosher home but haven’t kept kosher since I left for college), and more and more people choosing secular life over any form of Jewish life.  I wondered if after thousands of years of hatred trying to eliminate the Jewish people, would it finally be their love and acceptance that did it.

The post October 7th world shows me that I may have been right.  The increase of Jew hatred has seemed to generate interest in Jews exploring Jewish life and finding out what being Jewish means for them.  In many ways it reminds of me of what happened on September 11th on college campuses when it became ok to ask spiritual questions and students were very much asking about God.**

As Jews begin to question what it means to be Jewish, they are finding all sorts of different answers.  For me, I have found a few things that answer that and are meaningful. 

I have chosen to get involved in Jewish rituals.  This includes things like putting on tefillin, lighting candles on Shabbat, and I am preparing to bake challah once again with a new gluten free recipe so I can enjoy it as well. 

I am spending an hour a week learning Torah with a Rabbi and meet with another Rabbi friend of mine for an hour a week to talk and begin doing some Jewish learning.  I enjoy these deep conversations and how each week we take ancient Jewish text and convert it into a lesson for the 21st century and my daily life.  Unlike Hebrew School as a child, the time flies by as we discuss, argue, debate, and question each other.  It’s intellectual, spiritual, and fun. 

I wear very little jewelry.  It’s not who I am.  After October 7th, I decided that I wanted to wear a piece of Judaica, so I searched and found a beautiful Magen David (star of David) made by an Israeli artist that has Israel at the center of it.  I wear it proudly outside of my shirt, publicly displaying my Jewish identity and my love of Israel. 

I hung a new, special mezuzah made from the plastic removed from the water by Tikkun HaYam (Repair the Seas) on my new home office.  You can purchase one of these mezuzahs or the other cool things they make from recycled plastic here

I continue to watch the inspirational messages that my friends Harry Rothenberg and Ari Shabat send each week based on the Torah portion.  The 3-4 minutes I spend to watch each of them inspires me and gets me thinking about something I can do in my life.  I look forward to getting them each week.

As you see, it’s not a lot.  Yet it is meaningful and makes my day better because I take the time to do something Jewish on a regular basis. 

It brings me back to the two statements above from Daniel Gordis:

“reveal a young Israeli generation astounding in the depth of its commitment to the Jewish people.” 

The IDF called up 300,000 reserves and expected 250,000 at most to actually report for duty.  Instead, 360,000 showed up.  This was due to their commitment to the Jewish people.  The bitter political divides in Israel were put aside after October 7th as the commitment to Israel and to the Jewish people took precedence.  Watching the Haredi (groups within Orthodox Judaism that are characterized by their strict adherence to halakha (Jewish law) and traditions) sign up for the army when they were exempt was extremely moving for me.  I was also incredibly moved by Mia Schem, held hostage by Hamas in Gaza for 55 days. Not long after her release, she got a tattoo that reads, “We will dance again”. Her commitment to not allow Hamas to define her future shows me that I can’t allow anybody to determine my future either. This is the commitment of the Maccabees, of those on Masada, of Ruth and Queen Esther. It is what has allowed the Jewish people to continue to survive.

 “If the West is to survive, its young women and men will need to emulate them.”

This is the important point for those of us in the United States and in the diaspora.  Our young men and women need to emulate this commitment.  I watch the divide among our youth about Israel and Judaism and fear for the survival of Jewish life in the diaspora.  We fight amongst ourselves and give those who want us to not exist the ammunition they need.  We defend those who exhibit Jew hatred, antisemitism, through intellectual statements, qualifying what they said, blaming others, or using things like race, religion, history of being in a persecuted or minimized group as the reason they have these beliefs and that they don’t really mean it.  It’s time for our Jewish young women and men to accept that when people say they want to kill us, they really want to kill us.  When people defend those who promise to kill us and are actively killing Jews, they want the Jews to be killed by these people. 

We need a radical new approach to Jewish life.  We need to inspire people with the beauty and power and meaning of Jewish life.  We need to help people understand it’s not ‘all or nothing’ as they may have been taught growing up.  Instead, it’s take something, anything, and do it, use it, live it, love it, and maybe it grows into something a little more. 

  Wearing my Hanukkah PJs – that one thing can be fun!

I saw a meme this Hanukkah that said the miracle of Hannukah is not that the oil lasted 8 days.  The miracle of Hanukkah is that it has sustained the Jewish people for over 2,000 years.  Let’s not let that miracle burn out when a little effort will make the flames of Judaism grow exponentially.

** I know many people choose to write G-d to not write God’s name but since that isn’t really the name, I choose to just write it.