365 Days
It’s been one year since the October 7th terrorist attacks on Israel. Just 24 hours later, worldwide, unbridled anti-Semitism was unleashed on the Jewish state. Israel’s fighting back to deter more attacks was criticized as disproportional, overkill, and genocide. [Yes, Israel was accused of genocide, not Hamas, whose murderous attacks were, in fact, genocidal.] Apparently, Israel has a right to defend itself, just not too much.
Responsibility for the deaths of innocent Palestinians was placed on Israel, not the Hamas terrorists who strategically stashed their weaponry in civilian apartment buildings, kindergartens and hospitals. The world cried foul…for the Palestinians. Divesting from Israel, boycotting Israel, charging Israel with crimes, and blocking Israelis from various borders - I see you, Maldives – compounded the devastation of people who had not experienced such savagery since the Holocaust, which, by the way, actually happened. Mass slaughter on a quiet peaceful Saturday morning was shocking; the rampant condemnation of Israel for its defense, stunning.
Never mind the grotesque sexual violence, the barbaric murders of people whose only crime was dancing or sleeping, and the taking of innocent hostages kept in dark airless tunnels for months, many starved, beaten, and murdered. No, that barbarism was a mere backdrop; from the reporting in the The New York Times (the paper that recently printed an obituary for Hezbollah’s Hassan Nasrallah that read like a love note) to the campuses of some of our best institutions where keffiyeh-wearing students took up the mantle of Hamas, chanting “From the River to the Sea,” not knowing which river or sea or the murderous meaning behind the phrase. Ignorantly, naively, they lent their youthful enthusiasm to a movement as old as time: Jew hate.
This odious lot tore down hostage posters, threw rocks at Jewish businesses, painted ugly messages of hate from the comfort of their quads, terrorized fellow classmates and gave themselves the privilege to be reflexively Marxist, seeing only an oppressed/oppressor model and thereby relieving themselves from the mind-bending exercise known as critical thinking. Like lemmings, they co-signed anything the Hamas propaganda machine put out. So vast was their ignorance that signs like “Queers for Palestine” were carried without irony. Keffiyehs became the hottest garment on campus, replacing caps and tassels as graduations were cancelled due to threats of violence. Marches featured signage like “Hitler was Right.”
Another keffiyeh-wearing group got on a crowded New York subway train one night and asked if there were any Zionists on board, threatening that they should get off before violence ensued. I torture myself by asking what I would have done if I was on that train: Stand up and say I’m a Zionist? Or cower in fear? I want to believe the former; I’m ashamed that I even consider the latter.
In the year since October 7, I, like many others, have found myself transformed by the events of that harrowing day. Having experienced my own anti-Semitism as an 11-year-old – a home invasion while my parents were out, destroying our belongings, and painting swastikas on our walls while my sister and I huddled in our nightgowns with our babysitter in a downstairs closet without a lock - October 7 reawakened my trauma. Though instead of huddling and hoping it would go away, I chose to use it as fuel, fuel to do anything and everything I could to help Israel, the hostages, and the families.
To that end, I have followed the lead of the Israelis: fighting back against anti-Semitism, marching, signing petitions, and lobbying politicians. Friends and I hung hostage posters, saw them ripped down, and hung them again. I traveled to Israel with like-minded friends, met with recent amputees at Sheba hospital, visited an IDF base teeming with patriotic young soldiers. We met with tank commanders, generals, intelligence officers, hostages who had been released, and family members of those who had not. We cried alongside mother warriors like Rachel Goldstein-Polin and Shelly Shemtov, with survivors of Nova, survivors of the attack at Sderot, leaders of the Hostage Family Forum, United Hatzalah, and a myriad of Israel-supporting organizations. It is notable that every Israeli we met, even the soldiers whose limbs had been torn off their bodies by enemy fire, expressed concern for the innocent Palestinians caught up in this terrible war. Every single one. I aspire to reach that level of grace.
I ask myself what those efforts, and the efforts of so many American Jews and allies, accomplished. Well, reader, here I’d like to be optimistic. But truthfully, much of my optimism died when Hersh Goldberg-Polin was murdered with six other hostages on the cusp of an all-but negotiated hostage release that would have seen Hersh return to his family. And to be frank, my optimism was hanging by a thread after viewing the Hamas Go-Pro video footage of their murderous rampage. It wasn’t just the epic violence, though the ferocity of the attacks did indeed jolt my faith in humanity. But more so, it was the jubilance of the Hamas terrorists. The sheer JOY. By now we’ve all seen footage of Hamas calling home – taping themselves- to report to mom that they slaughtered 10 Jews. I saw a terrorist creeping around a home with a baby stroller on the porch, raise his gun, and shoot an old dog in the face. I watched another help himself to food in a home where two little boys are weeping having seen their father shot by that monster. I saw things I can’t unsee and yet know my horror does not even begin to approach the horror of those who lived through that day and the aftermath. The 365 days of aftermath. And still counting.
There has been so much death and destruction. 101 hostages are still held. Many are presumed dead, much like talks of negotiation and their release. The war rages on, now on multiple fronts, with direct attacks from Iran, and Jew hate continues to metastasize like a cancer, for which the world has no cure.
Today, on this grim anniversary, while there are many reasons to despair, instead, access hope. It won’t be easy. But in the words of Rachel Goldberg-Polin, hope is mandatory. Be buoyed by the mastery and badassery of the Mossad and the IDF who are taking down one terrorist after another. Be proud of the Israeli people who continue to fight against jihadism and hatred, who value peace and the right to a homeland… not just theirs, but our own. Be open to the promise of a better year, of resiliency, of resolution, of the promise of a better world. Please. You must. There are 101 reasons.
