Why do I feel like screaming?
Jewish spirals from the past few weeks + Thanksgiving cakes
Updates for SLC Locals:
I’ve got 2 special cake options for Thanksgiving - Dirty Chai Pumpkin and Olive Oil Cranberry. They’re available in two sizes for pick-up on 11/22. Order here.
Cakes for other November dates can be ordered here.
“The end justifies the means. But what if there never is an end? All we have is means.” - Ursula K. Le Guin
I’ve tried to write and rewrite something that feels cohesive, but the experience inside my head since October 7th has been one of spiraling, zig-zagging, and fragmentation. When the spirals are deep, I come back to my values. I can always stand in those. I am equipped to write about those.
You have to understand, even as I’m writing this, I’m thinking about how not to piss anyone off, when really I feel so pissed off and want to scream. I know that some people will question or disregard my Jewish identity because I won’t blindly support Israel’s actions. I know others will label me a coward for not speaking strongly enough.
Breathe.
Values.
I can always come back to my values.
Judaism has taught me to value the dignity of all human beings. Judaism has taught me to ask questions and think critically. Judaism has taught me tikkun olam - that we take action to repair the world and to take care of each other. And if you don’t know how, start by bringing food. These values are critical to the way that I view what is happening in Israel and Palestine - this asymmetrical war that Palestinian civilians always bear the brunt of, that Israelis calling for peace after living through terrorist attack are caught in the middle of.
I’m not in the business of comparing pain. Grief is grief, and I’m trying to carry multiple: that of Palestinians, shut off from the world, killed indiscriminately, in the daylight and in the dark; that of Israelis waiting in heartbreak to find out if their loved ones held hostage are even alive; that of both peoples who’ve been failed by their governments for so long, whose futures are inextricably linked and uncertain; that of the people weeping for their babies, grandparents, friends, communities, dreams, futures.
I keep thinking about how radical it must be to have hope.
My pain is one from afar. It’s this heaviness in my chest, an aching that this annihilation of a people is being carried out in my name. It’s a feeling of needing to scream, but not knowing what will come out, so the unsaid words just stay in my throat. It’s fearing that some will label me a “self-hating Jew” for not seeing Israel’s bombing of refugee camps - among other things - as self-defense; I don’t see how this is going to help bring hostages home. It’s a painful wrestling with the things I’ve been taught and the things I’m learning myself.
The first time I traveled to Israel was in 2002. I was in fifth grade and got picked up early from school. As I packed up my belongings, a classmate turned to me and said, “Bye Becca, I hope you don’t die.” As a child, I was afraid in that moment. As an adult, I can see that this narrative of defining a whole region by terror is a long one.
We arrived at the airport, traveling with a group from a new synagogue. We gathered in a circle at our gate and Larry - may his memory be a blessing - led us in chanting “Love your neighbor as yourself, this is Torah.” We held hands, swaying and repeating this over and over again. As a child, I was mortified. We were singing at the airport. As an adult, I’d probably still be mortified, actually, but I appreciate the teaching and the pride in singing our values aloud.
A few years later, my family traveled to Israel again. My parents received the phone call that my grandpa died. We had just arrived at the Western Wall, the holiest of sites in Jewish tradition. It’s the only time I’ve ever seen my dad cry. I remember watching him tear his shirt - a Jewish ritual of rendering your clothing to represent the tear in your heart when losing a loved one. As a child, I was quiet - it’s confusing to see your parents in pain. As an adult, I’m grateful - how meaningful for my dad to encounter this grief surrounded by people and a place that would help hold his pain.
I’ve traveled to Israel many times since then. Each time shaped me in different ways, and I think that’s why it feels painful to try to untangle these parts of my Jewish identity.
I know full well that the attack on October 7th did not happen in a vacuum. In the words of Israeli writer Etgar Keret, “If you occupy people, if you put them in a cage, in the end, they’re going to break that cage and go for your throat. If you let them live in a dignified way, at least there is a chance.”
The reality is that there are two populations here, both deserving of free and dignified futures, who need a solution to be able to keep living. To invest in the safety and liberation of one is to invest in the safety and liberation of the other. You’ll have a hard time convincing me otherwise.
How radical it must be to have hope.
A note on Anti-semitism -
I’m thinking about how in the summer of 2020, many of us invested ourselves in the lessons of how racism is not always explicit. Most hate isn’t. It’s beneath the surface, playing on dangerous tropes, and stays until you learn to question it. I do not believe that criticizing the Israeli government is inherently anti-semitic. I do know that a lot of criticism and anti-Zionist rhetoric does stand on dangerous anti-semitic tropes. Make sure to learn the difference.
A note on joy -
I’m trying not to wear out my compassion and I hope you don’t either. There is still joy to be had. Lean into it so you don’t burn out. We have to ensure our compassion is sustainable. We’ve got to be in it for the long haul.
Lastly, here are things you can say to your Palestinian, Israeli, Jewish, Muslim, Arab, human friends -
Are you okay?
How is your heart today?
Lastly lastly, here are some readings I’ve found particularly poignant:
Explaining Global Atrocity to a Toddler
'I Feel a Human Deterioration'
Listen to Israeli survivors: They don't want revenge
The Palestinian Double Standard
Israel - Birth of a State - not a reading, this is a 50 minute documentary that gives a very comprehensive history of how the conflict evolved.
This is so beautifully written. Thank you sharing it with us.
Hi Becca - as another SLC Jew I think you wrote this beautifully!