Dear Friends,
Toward the end of every unveiling, I invite people at the grave to look to their left and to their right. “What you see proves that there is life after death,” I say. “Oh, it’s not the Happy Hunting Grounds variety of eternity, but it proves that the person whose monument you dedicate today is still with you; and you are here with him.” Because I believe the truth of this, I was at the door of my older grandchildren’s apartment with bagels in hand early the morning of October 8 last year. I needed to be with the Jewish future the day after the newest tragic inflection in our People’s long history. Having been told about what had happened by her parents, seven-year-old Helaina greeted me at the door teary-eyed assuring me that we would get through our sadness so long as we stood very close together to make the hole in our hearts smaller. Three year old Isaac was sad because we were sad, Helaina explained, but he, too, held me close because he sensed that I needed it.
I don’t know what Helaina and Isaac will remember about that dark day of massacres, rapes, mutilations and hostage takings. I doubt that they will recall much more than the sadness of heartbroken parents and grandparents who were so upset about events that occurred so far away from their golden upper west side ghetto where being a Jew is still a secure and joyous experience. But I do know that for them the history of the modern State of Israel will begin on October 7, 2023. I know it, because I know how 10/7 has changed my perspective on Israel and the Middle East, and how it has and continues to redefine my seven-decade-old curated Jewish identity.
What remains the same for me is the need to examine this all in the context of the Jewish community in all its diversity. I know and rely on the truth that my identity as a Jews goes beyond my being a committed, progressive American Jew who is just a couple of months older than the State of Israel. That larger community includes Israeli Jews, and Israel-American Jews as well as Eastern and Western European Jews and Jews of color. It includes some Jews with whom I am politically aligned and others whose ideologies are far to my left and far to my right. It includes secular Jews and religious Jews, Jews who define themselves culturally, and Jews who support Jewish institutions and philanthropies, and those who have nothing to do with the organized Jewish community. Especially because so much has changed since October 7, my need to be in the community has become all the more intense. That’s why I have registered to be at Community Synagogue on October 7, and why I will be at our synagogue on Simhat Torah. I will go to be with all of you because I need to be reassured that there is still something we can call ‘The Jewish People.’ I need to see who and what is left of us after the tragedy that befell us last year. I need to sit shoulder to shoulder with you so that the hole will seem smaller though the circle of cosmic grief remains. I need to witness that as divided as we are that the Jewish People lives, that we are, indeed, an Eternal People.
In solidarity,
Rabbi Lee Friedlander
