By Michael Golden
Early this morning, I spent four hours writing an article about the war in Israel — and specific decisions that I think Prime Minister Netanyahu will soon confront.
I sent the draft to a friend who is a longtime leader in the Jewish community, and he told me what I could already feel in the pit of my stomach: it’s way too early for that stuff (recovering political strategists take a long time to recover).
I shelved the draft and turned on the news — just in time to hear that Hamas had massacred 260 young people at a nature party near the Gaza Strip — with rockets and close-range gunfire.
Animals. No words.
As I’ve been watching what we’ve all been watching over the last 48 hours, I’ve felt a mix of heartbreak and fury that I know others are experiencing. I want to hug every last innocent Israeli under attack — while I’m also gripped by a visceral craving for vengeance.
The thing is, the anger part of this mix is not only about the actual mass killings that these Islamist terrorists are committing. It’s more than that. It’s also about the fact that this is still happening to the Jewish people. To this extraordinary country. It never ends. It’s old. It’s tired. It’s immeasurably stupid.
If you’ve been to Israel for even a day, you know what a truly amazing a place it is. Not just because of its singularly epic history and seminal landmarks — but because of its people.
Last year, while Joanna Landau and I were finishing our book about the importance of connecting the Next Generation to Israel, I interviewed a 20-year-old American named Katey Goldman. She had just spent the summer in Israel, and our conversation mostly focused on how she was using social media to share the experience with her friends. But when I asked Katey to describe what she loved most about her stay, she didn’t need time to think about it:
“There was this group of people I met and every week they’d invite new people to dinner in their beautiful Jerusalem home. In the Old City. Jews, non-Jews, it didn’t matter. My friend and I actually slept there one night. It was a whole experience. I didn’t know anyone, but at that table, everyone was so connected, and just, family. When Shabbat dinner ended at midnight, we sat outside on a patio overlooking the Dome of the Rock. And at 3 a.m. — we all got up and went to the Wall. These people whom I’d just met!”
So many people who’ve been to Israel will tell you the same story. Only the names and locations change. It is the unique spirit borne of a shared history and essential value: welcome the stranger.
I have spent short time in Israel myself, but I remember the warmth extended to me from every Israeli I came into contact with.
A Holocaust survivor named Itta Bell shared the horrifying experience of what she had endured at the Kaiserwald concentration camp in Latvia — and how proud she was to be living as an Israeli 50 years later. Then she started investigating my dating life.
An Orthodox Jew named Chanan talked about why he’d made aliya from New Jersey at the age of 29. He shared stories with me about his journey, and then asked me about mine — and listened.
A friend in America insisted I call a man named Robert Slater who lived in French Hill with his wife Ella. They’d made aliya in 1970, and Robert was a foreign correspondent for TIME Magazine. I’d barely uttered two sentences over the phone before they’d invited me over for dinner. I left their home feeling like I had new family members.
In Eilat, I met a young woman who’d moved to Israel from Russia to become an artist. She raved about the Israeli people she was now a part of, then invited me to a salsa dance on the beach that night.
Thinking back upon these interactions and reviewing my conversation with Katey gave me that warm feeling that countless people have experienced while visiting Israel. It has everything to do with the people.
Then I watch those same people suffering, and my gut starts heating up again. The insanity and stupidity of it all is just too much. Jews exist. They’ve changed the world for the better time and time again. Can we move on already?
Israel will now do what it has to do. A relentlessly persecuted tribe doesn’t survive this cruel world for this long without developing a resiliency that is akin to a superpower. The longer we’re here, the stronger we become.
It will take time, but I truly believe Israel will ultimately become an even more wonderful and fascinating place. The pattern of history makes it a likelihood. So if you haven’t yet had the experience, don’t let this latest episode of maddening dumbness stop you. Wait it out.
We’ll talk about Netanyahu next time.
Michael Golden is the coauthor with Joanna Landau of Ethical Tribing: Connecting the Next Generation to Israel in the Digital Era.
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