Am Yisrael Chai

This past weekend we spent time with family. We are so lucky to continue to have the privilege and safety to do so. On Friday night I asked my father-in-law how the world feels for him in the absence of social media (he’s old-school like that)—does he experience this sense of being hated and targeted in the same visceral and fearful way that I have over the last five weeks? He knows that hatred is out there, that Jewish people are being attacked outside their homes, that synagogues are being vandalized, and that Jewish cemeteries are being defaced with swastikas. But while he knows this on an intellectual level (he reads a lot (newspapers, not Twitter; again, old-school like that)) he explained that he does not feel the personalization of the hatred or a sense that the anger is directed towards him as an individual, not in the way I have felt since the morning of October 8th, the morning after the worst Pogrom against Jewish people since the Holocaust.

This isn’t to say he did not experience the attack on Israel and to the Jewish people as personal. That is impossible; the Jewish nation is too small to not experience it as personal. Every Jewish person I know has a brother, cousin, friend, or friend of a friend who was murdered, raped, or kidnapped into Gaza on October 7th. The babies being held captive are our nation's babies, my babies. My father-in-law feels that personalization deeply and as horrifically as we all do.

Engagement with social media adds but another layer to the horror. My social feeds have become deafening and the feeling of hatred and attack has become overwhelming. I see the person I sat next to in graduate school calling me a supporter of occupation, naming my Zionism—my love for and commitment to my Homeland and my People—as apartheid. I feel the hatred directed at me, when someone I traveled abroad with claims I do not have empathy for Palestinians and that I believe one people more deserving of human dignity and humanity over another. Yet, I have not removed myself and I continue to engage with social media both through consumption and through sharing. And why is that? Social media is a hot bed for anonymity and for the ability to be angry behind a screen. But the experience of the pain and the war is not anonymous. It is profoundly personal. It is my brother-in-law volunteering to don a uniform he last wore over 10 years ago, carrying an M16 protecting his city. It is my ex-boyfriend's cousin who I used to push on the swings stationed up north near the border with Lebanon. It is my friend from elementary school singing songs to her children in a bomb shelter while rockets go off above her head. It is very deeply personal to me and so I need to find a way to make it personal to everyone.

The presence of hatred and anger feels too anonymous and yet too familiar. What is happening is division and dehumanization of the Jewish people and the Jewish nation. Israel is our first and only Homeland. To proclaim that Israel as a sovereign country should not exist is to sign the death warrant of half the Jewish population and likely to the Jewish people altogether. The awareness that in every generation there has been an attempt at our annihilation is part of our collective memory and trauma. Without Israel, where do Jews go? Where are we safe?

But as history has shown time and again, we are trauma SURVIVORS—not victims. We are a people of strength with the capacity and fortitude to hold close our values and our traditions. Our strength has too been villainized. Our rising into positions of leadership in society is made out as an example of our evil, cunning, while we are at the same time condemned for separation and commitment to tradition. We cannot win, so we often stop trying. I don’t want to stop trying, I want to invite you to see my humanity and the beauty of the tradition and people I hold as my own. We are a people of song and a people of love.

I have not shared with my lovely and sensitive (almost) three-year-old boy the grief I have been feeling since October 7th. He is too little and does not need to be exposed to this pain yet. But I am teaching him about song and love. We sing Am Israel Chai most mornings during breakfast and every Friday night we light shabbat candles together and think of what we want for the people we love. We ask Hashem for special blessings together – we meditate on our hopes and dreams, and we pray for Auntie Rachie in Israel and wish her a peaceful and safe shabbat. We hold each other and we sing. He does not notice the extra attention given to Rachel, and Ari, and Talya, and Yoav and Asaf, but singing together is how we hold our traditions, how we honor who we are.

I have always felt fearful of voicing my opinion about Israel. I have felt fearful that I did not have enough knowledge or clout to share my voice. I did not study political science and I don't read the newspaper cover to cover. But I have read books about Israel and Palestine and learned the history of the land since before I could speak. I have spent countless nights in Israel and my sister and her family live there. Interestingly, my love of Israel and my personal connection often made me feel like I could not speak because I am biased. I am not an expert and I have skin in the game and so I should be quiet. But what this month has taught me is you most certainly do not need to be expert to voice your opinion – it doesn’t stop the social media warriors who could not even identify Israel on a map – and having skin in the game and feeling connection and love for a country opens your heart and gives you space and understanding to speak with credibility about your opinion. Additionally, I know a fucking lot. I have been learning about how the children of Abraham (Jewish and Muslim alike) have a connection to the land from the time I could listen to stories. While I may not have been introduced to the full complexities of the situation as a child, I am a very smart woman and I can hold nuance and pain now and still remain unapologetically steadfast in my knowledge that the Jewish people need and deserve a homeland, and that Israel (and the people living there) have both a right to exist and a right to live in safety.

         How we unravel this centuries-old conflict is beyond me, but how we respond to hatred and terrorism feels clear. Do I think Israel and the Israeli government is perfect? Hell no, and I’m far from alone on that (see the millions of Israeli citizens protesting the government right up through the night of October 6th). But I do think an operation to end Hamas and free the 240 hostages, including a week-old baby and a 10-month-old boy, needs to be the priority. God took the people out of Egypt “with a mighty hand” and we stand with a mighty hand now, not to punish or take revenge but to take care of the Jewish nation and ensure we survive.

         My 15-month-old baby does not consistently sleep through the night or go to bed easily. He often needs a bonus nursing session at 4 AM to calm his little body and help him settle or to be held against his mommy’s heart while he falls asleep. He needs me and those babies 60FT underground in tunnels, in Gaza, need their Ima’s and Abba’s too. Evil took them from the arms of their mothers and with a mighty hand we will bring them back!

Am. Yisrael. Chai.

Post Yom Kippur Reflection on Apologies

I have been writing this post in my head for months. My worry is that people will search for themselves in the examples of this post, rather than in the message. My goal when writing is not to name individuals faulty apologies, but to reflect on challenging personal experiences to support my own growth and to make space for others to join me on similar paths of reflection.

A few months ago I received a phone and an apology that sent me into a tailspin. An apology? Isn’t the purpose of someone saying sorry to make you feel better? How could someone reaching out and saying sorry make you feel so bad, even depressed? 

This is where my reflection began too. The goal for this person, I believe, was not to hurt me -- and while I cannot actually name someone else’s intentions -- I believe the call came from a good place. Yet, it was still extremely hurtful. My own hurt made me wonder: why do we say sorry? What is the purpose of an apology?

When I received the call from this person I was surprised. We have a relatively superficial relationship --steeped in pain and baggage (at least on my part) and I was surprised they were communicating with me through the more personal (and brave) medium of a phone call rather than their usual text. 

They said they called to say sorry.

Wow! After years of slights, microaggressions and straight up bitchiness this person was going to acknowledge the way they have hurt me and give credence to my feelings. I was stunned but ready. And truthfully very excited to start a new chapter of our friendship together. 

What followed was not this meaningful conversation of connection and understanding. There was no apology for the times this person had truly hurt me. Left me feeling excluded, less than, or simply unimportant.

I was given an apology for something that I was not upset about, but what is worse, something I couldn’t fathom being upset or angry about.

And that is where the tailspin began: 

Am I the type of person that someone would think is so petty and selfish that I would be angry about THAT?

I felt so hurt and vulnerable following this, but also so confused. 

I spoke with my Eitan and I said “what's wrong with me that someone says sorry and I am furious and sad?” 

He helped me realize that I was disappointed. I want to have a positive relationship with this person and I was excited that they were finally seeing the harm they had inflicted within our relationship. With their ownership, I could have moved forward and we could have had something different and better. However, obviously that is not what happened. 

It's been a couple of months and I have been able to reflect and see this apology in a different light -- and to give this person some credit for their attempt at connection and the risk they took. 

I have gained insight into why people say sorry and what they may be trying to convey, and what I hope is that their intention wasn’t to apologize because they thought I was angry or couldn’t understand but as a way to let me see them better. 

Reasons people say sorry: 

1. They have harmed someone and they recognize that and are taking the first step to make it better 

• There is the simple harm - bumping into someone, physically hurting someone by mistake etc. We are teaching our 2 year old about this. “Ouch, you hurt mommy, can you say sorry and then see what you can do to make it better” Two year old: “sorry mommy, you need blue ice” -- great we are building empathy and he understands that while saying sorry when something is an accident is great, it's only the first step to righting the wrong. 

• Similarly when you accidentally hurt someone’s feelings, exclude them in some way unintentionally trigger someone when you had no way to know your words would hurt, etc. You say sorry, but then how do you make it better? You acknowledge the harm and reflect on ways you will do differently in the future. For example, people will speak about their Dad’s in front of me (totally okay, not mean at all) but then complain about them showing up to something or really wanting to spend time with them and it getting on their nerves, also an okay thing to complain about, sometimes parents of adult children can be overbearing -- but know the room. As a person who lost their father, what I wouldn’t give for my Dad to want to visit “too” often, so complain to a different friend. Insightful people will notice that, apologize and be more careful in the future. 

2. They want to be understood or seen, it's a way to connect to another person 

• With reflection, I think (hope) this was this person’s (albeit ill executed) goal. What I hope is they knew I wouldn’t be upset about something but they were upset with their own behavior and wanted to apologize and be understood.

•  Sometimes you apologize because jealousy leads you to not celebrate as big with someone, sometimes your own pain or depression lessons your excitement about someone's joy, or sometimes (often recently in my case) your overwhelm or preoccupation with the nitty gritty things going on in your life leads you to forget to check in or support someone the way you would like to.

• This type of apology is really important and really valid. The problem is in execution. Because we have been taught we say sorry because we did something wrong or made someone mad. When you say sorry for something that another person wouldn’t be angry about, it leads them to wonder “what is wrong with me that this person thinks I am mad?”

• Instead say “I am feeling xyz, and I am sorry that my behavior is not how I wish it could be in relation to you, I want you to know me and understand where I am coming from…” 

3. The last is the fix-it, non-apology apology. I got this one recently, and in my opinion it's the worst. This one is selfish and does not serve a purpose. Just please stop doing it! 

• This is when someone does a simple harm and apology number 1 would serve. But instead they don’t acknowledge, or worse, they invalidate your feelings and just come up with a solution. They may use the words sorry (although often don’t even do that) but their goal is not to make you feel better but rather to fix the situation and end their own discomfort and make your feelings go away. Hello Boomers! 

• This is the "sorry, but maybe next time you could..."; sorry, but this is what is really happen, or (my favorite) you shouldn't be so sensitive

As a clinician I sometimes help my client’s write a script when they have something hard or painful to say. It's okay to not always know how to do something or have the words for what you want to say. Communication is hard and saying sorry can be one of the hardest forms of communication. It is a highly vulnerable position to acknowledge you made a mistake and hurt someone, or in case number two that you are hurting and therefore acting in a way that doesn’t align with your values or how you want to view yourself. Speaking to that is really challenging and my hope is that I have helped people find the language to speak with each other with more kindness and generosity. Sometimes “sorry” isn’t enough or isn’t right - sometimes when not done thoughtfully it can do more harm than good.

I recommend you start with your intention and then think of how what you say can improve that communication.