In October 2023, I was traveling to attend a J Street conference in DC, just a few days after Hamas’ heinous attack. The meeting had been planned months in advance, and now, from emails, it was clear that J Street staff was scrambling to revise the agenda to adjust to the agonizing developments all while making space to gather as a community and process.
I was surprised by a lengthy text from a cousin who lives near Ashkelon. We spoke, and I learned how she and her family were doing. Her elderly mother was unable to pry herself from the news. Her son was beside himself with worry. When I told her where I was heading, she asked me to bring her message to US lawmakers, to tell them in full detail about the vicious horrors that had occurred.
After the phone call, I was alone and shaken, and I turned to Facebook, which has its uses sometimes:
“A surreal afternoon. I’m looking out the train window at light sparkling off the windows of Philadelphia and thinking about the things I just heard on the phone from my cousin in Israel. She and her husband are both doctors and live near Gaza. Three of the nurses in her clinic were murdered. There’s more I can’t bring myself to write.”
Nearly 150 of my actual friends, old and new, Jewish and non-Jewish, replied with support, commiseration and condolences. In those early days before the Israeli military’s retaliation began, hearts were wide open.
The conference was another empathic space. We heard from and shared with Jews and Palestinians who held compassion and sorrow for Israel, who condemned Hamas, who were skeptical about the actions and motives of the extremist Israeli government and who were concerned about the plight of Palestinians in Gaza. One theme deeply resonated with many in discussions: the urgent need for a just and dignified political horizon for the Palestinian people.
When Israel’s full-scale ground invasion began two weeks later, public opinion quickly hardened and people sorted themselves into camps. Inspired by an activist friend’s post on the subject, I realized I needed to keep open the space for holding multiple truths at once, a space that recognizes Israel’s need for security and right to exist, along with the imperative that Israel adhere to the rule of law and end the occupation. And space for recognizing the utter importance of the establishment, at long last, of a Palestinian state.
Our local J Street chapter organized house parties where nuanced, open discussions were held, and the work of J Street was highlighted. We organized a talk by the father of a hostage, a man who has dedicated his life to working for peace. I supported friends who called for statements on ceasefire from local government entities, and helped write a letter to the editor on the topic.
And then again, I turned to Facebook, looking to share hope. I shared posts from Israelis I know engaged in coexistence work with their Palestinian neighbors to organize mutual aid, attend workshops and protest. One friend teaches group music lessons to neighbors, both Palestinian and Jewish. Another organizes a program for young people in Jerusalem to connect over their love for running and conducts educational tours of the city.
I shared articles about groups working together for a hopeful future in Israel/Palestine. News of groups like Standing Together, The Parents Circle-Families Forum, Women Wage Peace and Women of the Sun filled my Facebook feed. My paid newspaper subscriptions were put to good use. I shared items from J Street and articles from the Israeli press, as well, and subscribed to a range of publications to gain a wider perspective.
People have stopped me to say my posts amazed them and helped them through these dark times, and I was glad, but to be honest, I posted mostly for my own grounding. One year later, the very dark days continue; may we eventually come through with renewed hope and faith in humanity.
This piece is part of a series of reflections from the J Street community. Read the rest of the reflections here.