Grieving Together
How can you humanize a people you are fighting?
If a group of people have violently killed your family, taken you hostage, stripped away your livelihoods, leveled your home, how can you not be filled with such extreme anger, sadness, vengeance?
And, when you join the forces to fight an aggressor or an oppressor, how can you still maintain friendships with those that identify with the people you are fighting?
A Wednesday visit to the site of the Nova Festival where the October 7th massacre was sobering. I viewed hundreds of memorials dedicated to the victims of those murdered that day, each one with a photo of them, flowers, a few sentences about their personalities and then a second-by-second recounting of their last moments on this earth. Some sacrificed their own lives to save others, some were there visiting from another country, and all didn’t deserve to die. They were killed by terrorists who had no respect for innocent human life.
I spoke with a mother the night before whose son has been held hostage in Gaza for over 400 days, and every night she stands in front of the Israeli Ministry of Defense to say, “We’ve eliminated the terrorists. Enough with the war. Bring them home”.
And from where I was standing, three miles due West of the Nova Festival, lies Gaza, literally still up in smoke. It seemed both close by and so far away. Gaza is living memorial of its own. Truly hell on earth that has been under constant bombardment by the IDF where entire communities and families have been obliterated since October 7th. Entire cities have been leveled, catastrophic levels of hunger, disease, and lifelong trauma. People living in Gaza have been dehumanized, and often compartmentalized.
Over 45,000 have been killed. 70% of those killed were women and children.
I have heard the response from people when confronted with the number of Palestinian deaths say things like:Those numbers aren’t accurate.Hamas uses them as human shields.The IDF avoids innocent people at all costs.
If our first response to learning about innocent lives being murdered is a justification for it, then we must ask ourselves if we are also personally accountable for also dehumanizing them whether consciously or unconsciously.
When we argue over whether we call it a genocide or not, are we losing the plot? Countless innocent lives have been murdered, isn’t that enough to end the conversation? Arguing over a label is further emotionally distancing ourselves from the true horror of it all, because a murdered child is a murdered child.
Are we as humans capable of simultaneously having empathy for all innocent lives that have been killed?
Not just saying that we care, but truly showing that we care with our actions? I find ourselves as a society digging further and further into our respective camps, surrounding ourselves with people who only share what we believe – perpetuating and hardening our stances, leaving no room to be open to explore or even consider someone else’s point of view. Listening and considering someone else’s lived experience and point of view is one of the hardest things to do when we personally feel we are in the right. It’s hard for me.
We don’t have to agree, but can we listen?
A personal note on why I have felt disaffected from attending some synagogues lately.
I used to host Shabbats before October 7th, but the atmosphere changed. I didn’t feel any less Jewish, but somehow it all became political. I couldn’t find my place through it.
When I’ve attended synagogues in the past year, the rabbi would always pay tribute to the Israeli hostages which I was appreciative of and felt was important, but there was no mention of the tens of thousands of innocent Palestinians who have been murdered. And, if there was a mention of Palestinian lives lost, it was a footnote. I didn’t feel comfortable being part of a religious entity that could only express grief for one side. I needed, and still need, a place of worship that can hold space for more.
PS. I’m having experiences and observations at a faster rate then I can write blogs right now. I plan to write blogs on middle eastern food, Kibbutzim, the army, pine trees/olive trees, and intermarriages. But for now I must sleep. I’m in Givat Ela today and tomorrow I go to Jerusalem. It’s late 4:30am, still jet lagged, and hear the morning prayer from the mosque one town over.
My family and friends whom I’m staying with are incredibly generous, kind, and welcoming. Offering histories, and I’m fortunate to have such a loving extended family here.
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