By Yechiel Amar, Staff Writer
I would like to pre-empt this article with an apology for ignorance. Whatever ignorance I might betray within my words may upset some, and I apologize for it. I know I am ignorant in some matters. However, an admission of ignorance has not placated my voice, and perhaps speaking on my ignorance will cause some answers to emerge.
After the horrific events of October 7, I, like many others, was filled with both horror and outrage. Not only at the events that had occurred that day but at the utter gall that some would take the vile stance that Israel deserved what had occurred. One particularly disgusting post online I saw from October 7, stated that a “lot of reaping being condemned by the sowers today.” These comments had the same effect on me as they surely have had on many Jews. They confirmed our fears: the world was always against us, antisemitism still haunted us, once again we would be in a fight for our right to exist.
And so, I did what I could. My yeshiva from Israel “adopted” an IDF battalion, supplying them with sorely needed funds and supplies, so I donated to help support them. I went to a rally with YU outside the UN and tried to attend another. Through it all, I began to feel what many felt: a renewed sense of unity within Am Yisrael, a nation that came together in our collective pain. For the first time, I was able to sing “Acheinu” with feeling.
The conflict had another effect on my life as well. Content creators I follow online started posting or liking anti-Israel content on their timelines. Instinctively, I unsubscribed and unfollowed these creators on all platforms. I had no interest in supporting those whose morals were opposite mine, and indeed I saw the conflict as many do: one’s position on it being an indicator of one’s morality. To give them any of my support seemed to me to be an immoral act.
Yet, in spite of myself, I remained curious. I will admit that I have been privileged to have lived within Jewish communities and attended Jewish schools and camps, and have essentially been swaddled in the orthodox Jewish bubble my entire life. Antisemitism, though often spoken of to me, was never something I experienced personally. It is for this reason that these posts intrigued me. I wanted to know: what was the other side saying about us? What obvious lies and misinformation are they spreading? I dove into a digital rabbit hole with the expectation that my faith in Israel and Am Yisrael as a whole would be enforced.
In the beginning, I brushed off what I read with the same defenses for Israel I’ve heard my entire life. The pictures are doctored, the numbers are inflated, they’re crisis actors. In essence: they’re lying. Yet more time passed and more incidents occurred that put Israel in a bad light. I know the justifications; I know the reasons. I know Hamas hides in schools and hospitals, that they use human shields. But there were other things as well. Gleeful TikToks from Israelis mocking the deteriorating living conditions in Gaza. More tales of civilians dying and pictures of children lying still in rubble. I heard the same justifications, perhaps one can even say such mocking is justified after the attacks the Israelis endured. Yet inevitably, a kernel was born in my mind that even now I’m ashamed to admit. A kernel of doubt took root.
I had believed that what sets Judaism apart from all the other religions in the world is that we welcome questions, and those questions would always have definitive answers proving that we held the truth with us. I took it as such, and believed that the opinions and positions held by my Jewish community must be the same, that they could all be held up to every question and remain intact and true. Not only were we in the moral right, but our claim to that was provable. So I tentatively asked one of my Rebbeim, figures I had been raised to believe were authorities on morality, about my doubts. I was seeking answers that would wash my worries away completely. The response I received did not placate me. It merely told me that if the things I was reading were causing me to think this way I should stop reading them. To me, this answer seemed to say to stick my head in the sand. But I wanted clarity, and I would find it.
I approached other rabbinical figures privately, each time with much apprehension, yet received little comfort. This war and the events surrounding it are highly emotional for many, and I knew my doubts had the potential to greatly upset people. For such reasons, addressing these doubts in a public forum was not an option. If I heard something that went against the narrative my community believes in, I would keep it to myself and add it to the pit of tumbling turmoil in my chest.
More incidents occurred. The deaths of the World Central Kitchen aid workers. The groups of protesters blocking the humanitarian aid trucks at the Kerem Shalom Crossing. I scanned the Jewish newspapers looking for something, the justifications that would completely restore my faith in my nation. Yet, all I saw was callousness, the same claims of antisemitic journalism and falsehood as before, and underneath those claims, the declaration that even if such incidents were intentional, there are no innocents in Gaza, so no harm no foul. It seemed to me that my community was following my rabbi’s advice; instead of taking the time to approach and rationally deconstruct each claim against us, we were choosing to avert our eyes from those stories and insist that they must be lies because we are in the right. We are inherently in the right and by definition every action taken also falls in the right. Right?
This is how I now live my life; a constant part of my brain is always in a moral anguish, unable to know what to think and what to believe. Each side lacks nuance, and yet, the fact that my side of the community seems to as well is especially biting, given that I had believed all my life in the high intellectual and moral standard we bear. Antisemitism as an answer now sounds pale to me after seeing so many Jews and even some Holocaust survivors speak out as pro-Palestine. Against so many pictures and videos, crisis actors seem unlikely as well. Do not mistake me, there is rising antisemitism, and it does lurk behind some of the slogans and rhetoric of the pro-Palestinian advocates. There is propaganda that is distributed that people will believe without a second thought. I will never deny that. But mostly what I see when I see protesters is well-meaning people reacting to what they see and hear. Clearly, what Israel and its defenders are saying and showing is, at the very least, not convincing.
I am grateful to attend an institution and be a part of a community where I normally feel safe as a Jew. I do not have to walk on a college campus where I feel afraid to be openly Jewish. Compared to students who have or had those experiences, my words may betray a childish naivete and for that I apologize. I, like others, have relatives and friends in Israel and the army, and I fear for them as well. I do not deny the danger that Israel has faced and still faces today. I know this is war, and I know emotions are high, and I apologize if my questions anger some. But it must be acknowledged that our responses to contrary narratives are incredibly lacking and overall, harmful to our cause. Does it not say enough that I, among friends who I have spoken with, who have been raised in orthodox Zionists communities and institutions, are now feeling doubt and anguish over what is occuring? I want to believe in my nation again. I want to believe in who we are.
I ask now for the community, whether it be YU students, Rebbeim, or pulpit rabbis with congregations, to not attempt to ignore this moral fog I am in, the same one that so many young Jews today reside in. Instead, wade in and dispel it with the truth you so carry. Lean away from extremist rhetoric and show to all we fulfill the saying that we truly “seek peace and pursue it.” Open your eyes and ears to the world and respond with the empathy and clarity I know only we can muster. Let the world know who we are. At the very least, let me.