David Andrew Jaffe's Blog, page 5

War vs Terrorism: The Devil I Know

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Since the beginning of the war, Jerusalem and the surrounding areas have had a handful of deadly terrorist attacks.

The events of October 7th have forever changed many of our outlooks on terrorism. I lived in Israel during the second Intifada. The tension for so many years was painful, something I never wanted to experience again. But I felt it gave me tools for life. It hardened me. If you could wake up every day and live your life knowing full well that you or the people in your life can be taken from you at any moment, what can’t you handle?

But I was wrong. So very wrong.

There is nothing that could prepare you for October 7th. Nothing at all.

War, the Unfathomable

There’s nothing that could prepare you for numbers like this. Almost every day of the Intifada, I felt like I was checking the news to make sure my loved ones were safe. And the moment I was satisfied that my life hadn’t absolutely been overturned, I’d move on with my day. Two names here. Five names there. It was an awful but manageable pain.

But there I was trying to carefully rummage through hundreds of names. With my heart rate increasing by the second. Scrolling and scrolling through a seemingly never-ending list. It was far more than I could handle.

Is this something anyone out there could handle?

Terrorism, the Devil I Know

That all being said, I noticed something after some recent attacks. There was a stabbing in Jerusalem in which a young American girl was murdered, a shooting on the road that I go to work, and most recently a shooting near the entrance to my city that resulted in the death of four innocent people.

And even though the net result of these incidents was nothing in comparison to that of October 7th, in some ways they impact me more. I’m not certain why, but I’ve been thinking about it a lot. And today I wanted to explore a few reasons why it might be the case.

First, terrorism is the devil I know. This is my first war. It’s far beyond my comprehension. I’ve never been in a war, I’ve never wandered through a war zone, and as much as I try to understand, it’s a world unfathomable to me.

Terrorism is something that impacted my life constantly for five years. Every day I panicked about what would happen next. It became such a part of my life, it was almost commonplace. I stopped feeling the emotions you’re supposed to feel. Fear. Sadness. Anger. It just was. You pay rent and eat falafel and you occasionally hear an explosion.

But the impact on my life was palpable. The tension. I don’t even think I understood how drastically it affected me until I was far from it for a several years.

Terrorism is Everywhere

So when I hear of horrific things happening a stone’s throw from my home, I feel my body tense up. I feel slightly nauseous.

I know in theory that war is hell and I don’t want it in this world. But for me war is a subject for movies. Relatively small acts of terrorism are something I know all too well. And the impact each one has on me is so very painful.

Second, the war feels isolated. Terrorism is everywhere.

Yes, I’m aware the war is a short drive away. And that rockets have poured into mainland Israel forcing many of us into bomb shelters. And, of course, our friends and family are in this “isolated” place. And at any moment the war could spill over into the West Bank or other countries could get involved.

But on a day-to-day basis, if you live in Jerusalem, it feels like the war is simply somewhere else. It feels like the war is happening off on someone else’s land, unable to escape and cause us any harm. It’s a very false sense of security, but it nevertheless does add a level of comfort, for lack of a better word.

But no such “relaxation” exists with terrorism. It’s everywhere at all times. No place or situation is safe. You can be at a hotel or a bus stop or in a synagogue, and out of nowhere, chaos is unleashed, uprooting the prior false sense of security.

The Unfolding Differences

Third, as a consumer of media, the results of terrorism unfolds differently. The tragedies of war are things revealed completely when I wake up in the morning. Four soldiers died. Three soldiers. Two soldiers. Together with the announcement is their name, where they’re from, and some information about where they served in the army.

And it’s very obviously painful. Brutally so. It’s miserable and awful.

But terrorism unfolds differently.

It’s a slower process. It begins with reports that something horrendous happened. At first the reports aren’t even that bad. We hear about “light” injuries and “potential” casualties. And as the time progresses, we get more and more information. We find out how bad the attack really was.

And then we start finding out that some people succumbed to their wounds. And the number starts increasing.

And you’re checking the news constantly, because the names of the victims have not yet been released. And your heart rate is progressively increasing. The lack of knowledge is slamming you with anxiety.

Until you can finally get the relief of knowing the names of the victims. Or more urgently, the names not listed. And the process takes hours, with your mental and emotional involvement from start to finish.

Two Evils Plaguing My Emotions Differently

So ultimately I’m standing in the midst of two evils that plague my emotions. One is clearly worse than the other. It’s bigger. It’s more constant. It’s changing the face of the universe every second.

And the other is this relatively small devil that has plagued my psyche for two decades.

War is a hell my brain has simply not had an adequate amount of exposure to or time to understand. I know it’s hurting me. And changing me. I just don’t know exactly how or how much.

But terrorism has seeped into my soul.

I’m not the same starry-eyed idealist who went to live in Israel in 1997. That guy is long gone.

And when I see the dreaded word “attack” on the news, my whole body shakes. I feel ill. And my mind is consumed with dread.

It’s a feeling I’m all too familiar with.

And one I desperately wish to stop feeling.

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How Do I Know When I’m Ready?

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I have a dilemma, and I’m so confused… I’m not even sure how confused I am.

It comes alongside a confession as well.

Just One Step Ahead

I was a teacher for a decade. I know this is likely quite common for many teachers, nevertheless, if so it remains mostly unspoken. Certainly outside the sphere of the educational institute.

There were many times along the way I was just one step ahead of my students. Never behind, but often only a teeny little bit ahead. Far enough that I was successfully able to educate, but not far enough that my confidence was spilling over.

Teachers are supposed to be subject matter experts. But quite often they’re not. They’re teachers. They’re not scientists, mathematicians, or historians. Their goal is to have the information in their own minds ready for that day’s class, and be prepared enough to successfully hand that knowledge over to other people, according to that class’ age and capability.

When Do You Know You’re Ready?

But it’s a rough situation. It’s uncomfortable to only feel one step ahead.

But when are you far enough ahead that the comfort finally arises?

I think about this a lot because I inadvertently became an advocate for Israel on Quora. I answer questions all the time, hoping to portray a positive perspective on the situation in Israel. And ideally I want to make an impact on a community that goes way outside the boundaries of my home.

But am I qualified to do so?

It’s a question that bothers me daily.

History and Current Events

Understanding the complexities of Israel’s history is not easy. There are so many details, and so many details that are controversial as well. I try to stay on top of both the history and the current events, and to read multiple perspectives, but to really understand everything is a daunting and overwhelming task.

But that’s just the beginning!

History must be understood in context. What if Israel is compared to another nation? What if other wars are referenced? Or journalists, publications, and declarations by assorted nations and human rights groups?

Should I really be expected to know everything about all of these items?

Certainly not. It’s not reasonable or feasible. When I answer questions on this forum, I do not do so as an historian. Or a subject matter expert. I do so as a concerned Israeli civilian, who despite having his own issues and concerns with Israel, is a fervent supporter of the IDF, truth, the Jewish people, destroying terrorism, and keeping Israel safe.

A Daunting Responsibility

But any word that exits my mouth still carries with it some level of authority, and that’s a responsibility I find intimidating.

And any time I make an error or see things through a lens that isn’t universally accepted, the world of Quora isn’t exactly kind in showing its disagreement.

If I’m having a lively discussion with a friend and we come to some level of friction, there’s a certain process. A way things unfold. If I say the death penalty makes sense to me for reasons A, B, and C, but they have powerful counterpoints of X, Y, and Z, we make our respective points, continue drinking our whiskey, and at the end of the day, we go home still friends. Tomorrow is a new day, and yesterday’s spirited chat has no impact on today’s banter about sports or work.

But the online world is unforgiving. I’ve probably been called a liar more times in the last few months than the rest of my life combined. It’s unpleasant, don’t get me wrong, but meaningless in the big picture. These are not people whose opinions I necessarily respect. And I tend to never care about the perspectives of those who taint their arguments with taunts and insults.

Speaking… Unready

Nevertheless, it gives me pause. I’m a thoughtful enough person to realize my own inadequacies. I recognize that I could have read a lot more books growing up. I could have paid more attention to a few more teachers. I could have spent more time watching documentaries and not Cheers.

But it begs the question: When is one ready to begin defending something they believe strongly?

I don’t think there’s a clear answer to that question. And I think it becomes further complicated by the fact that I also believe there is a second war occurring as we speak. And that’s a PR battle, one we are most certainly losing. And I think it is the duty of every capable person to stand their ground and say what needs to be said.

First of all, if we don’t, then a tremendous void is left behind. A perspective that needs to be heard is just left to be filled in by scores of people who will say something painfully different from what we believe.

But even more so, if we have the power to impact just one person’s perspective, to influence just one individual to see things differently, how can we toss that obligation off of ourselves?

It Feels Right

I’m not delusional. I don’t think for a moment I can change the minds of a fanatic. I don’t even think I could necessarily change the mind of an eccentric ignoramus who has chosen a side for whatever reason and likes to run around treating that choice as gospel.

But there are millions of thinking people out there. Those who are willing to listen to logic and multiple perspectives. Those who have not dogmatically already chosen what they believe based on minimal exploration or contemplation.

And that’s where influence lies. That’s the zone where it’s possible to make a difference.

But doing so constantly reminds me of how little I know. Am I knowledgeable enough to represent my nation? Am I sharp enough, patient enough, and diplomatic enough to make a difference without making things worse?

I don’t know the answers to any of these questions. All I know is it feels like I’m making a positive difference. It feels like I’m doing the right thing. And it also feels like I’m pretty good at it.

So I have to ask myself all the time: On the chance that I’m right, and I should pursue these opportunities despite fears of inadequacy, do I even have the right to not continue?

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My Declaration: What I Want in My Profession

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I’m unemployed. Again.

Last time it happened, it broke me. I felt bad for myself for months. And I was held back by fears, suffering, and lack of direction.

I was afraid of not have my time structured and occupied. I was afraid of not being able to pay rent. I was afraid of watching my bank account plummet, so that twenty years of hard work gets wiped out in a matter of months.

Just Working

So I did what I’ve been doing for as long as I could remember.

I searched for a job. Sadly, that’s the end of the thought. Because it’s not much more complex than that. I needed a job. And if something came along that checked a box or two, and made it so that I didn’t have to worry as much about making rent that month, I’d hop on it. And continue the perpetuation of a cycle I didn’t know how to break out of. The cycle of just working, but not pursuing passion. The cycle of just following the ebbs and flow of life, without trying to influence and control the direction things take.

But no more!

This time will be different. This time must be different!

Doing Something I Love

With a bit of help and a whole lot of contemplation, I’m finally pushing for a path that is carved out by me. That’s carved out by my wants and desires. That will get me excited to wake up in the morning, not just because I am motivated to do my job and get a paycheck, but because I’m doing something I love. And furthermore, because every day that I do my job well, my life is a little better than it was the day before.

So that brings me to this post, one I write with a hefty amount of fear. I’m writing this post to put my north star on paper, and to hold myself accountable for my goals and aspirations. If you know me and care about me, please ask me if I’m sticking to my guns. Ask me if I love what I do. Ask me if I held to my words. And if the answer is no, then push me. Ask me why I chose to compromise.

What I Want

So this is what I want:

I want to work in marketing. I want to be in an environment that encourages risk taking and exercising creativity, while trusting you to do great things if left to create something beautiful.

I want to work an environment that encourages growth and learning. That sees employees as long-term investments who will stay with the company for the long haul, so their development as both a person and a professional is of utmost importance, because they should possess countless skills to make the company grow to all new heights.

And if it should happen that the employee of several years, loaded with skills learned while under their banner, either lands an opportunity of a lifetime at another company, or chooses to go off and do their own thing, it’s not a sign of disloyalty that should be shunned. Rather it’s a symbol of pride, since the employee was an investment that paid off. They have grown so much, and should be ushered off into their new reality with nothing but excitement for this greater person who was formed under their watch.

Jumping Out Of Bed

But I don’t just want to work in a creative field that I enjoy, in a wonderful company filled with kind, decent people. I want to wake up wanting to jump out of bed because not only is my job something I love to do, but it’s for a cause I believe in. It’s existence literally makes the world a better place.

There are many issues I care about. I could be quite happy knowing my time is spent raising awareness for a cause that helps sick children. Or people with disabilities. Or lone soldiers.

But I think in an ideal world, your profession should connect with the whole of who you are. And yes, these are beautiful causes. Ones I feel very passionate about. But they are not my life’s passion.

Health and Fitness

I live and breath health and fitness. I am constantly reading about these topics, constantly exercising, and feel deeply passionate about trying to move toward a world where people care about these topics as much as I do, and wish to work day and night to make the world a healthier place.

So yes, I want to work in marketing. I have the skills, the creativity, and the work ethic. And if I’m marketing a product or service, I will be very grateful. And I will do it to the best of my ability.

And if I support a great cause, I will wake up every day proud of what I’m doing.

But it’s not the ultimate goal. The employment endgame is doing marketing in the health tech or sports tech world. That’s where I want to be. And that is the direction I’m trying to zoom toward.

More From Life

Is this a pipe dream? Perhaps. But without a visual of where you want to be, how can you ever expect to move forward in life?

For years I told myself that being able to feed your household was enough. And I suppose that might be the case for some. Possibly for many. They are OK going through the motions. Clocking out at the end of the day, cashing a paycheck, and plopping dinner on the table for their loved ones.

More power to them. If it gets them through the day, and they’re not seeking more, in many ways I envy them. To fill their bucket of life fulfillment is easier. Maybe their bucket is smaller.

Hold Me to the Fire

But my eyes are big. They see so much. They envision a life far greater and more prosperous than the one I’ve lived up until today.

So, my friends, if you see me compromising, hold me to the fire. Remind me that I want more. And if I’m not advancing toward my goals, I’m not moving forward at all.

And not actively moving forward is tantamount to giving up.

Can you really stand by and let someone you care about give up?

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What’s the Goal with Hamas?

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The news is covered with calls for a ceasefire. And much to my chagrin and shock, I’m finally there as well.

Let’s get a few things on the table.

Questions About the War

I have my issues with Israel. Lots of them. But I am 100% supportive of Israel’s right to exist, I stand fully and completely behind the Israeli Army, and I would like nothing more than for Hamas to be completely wiped from this planet.

All of that can so easily cloud ones judgment.

And I can’t help wondering: Are we winning this war? Are we accomplishing the goals we’ve set out to achieve? Are we even clear on what those goals are? And are the sacrifices we’re making truly worth it?

The Cost of Victory

Several days ago our tough and rugged soldiers brought home two hostages. It was glorious. The news was filled with the miracle. And what a miracle it was! Two people would come home to see their children and grandchildren again. Two people had escaped fear and terror and could live out the rest of their lives in relative peace and harmony.

It was a legitimately beautiful thing.

But the news buried the fact that two soldiers were killed in action that same day.

No, it wasn’t the same operation. But I couldn’t help feeling like there was a message. Yes, we had what to be joyous about. But at what cost!? How many soldiers will need to die to get our family back? Individual lives cannot be compared. And simply comparing lists of numbers is a very limited way of thinking. However, it still gives pause. Israel is making sacrifices daily. Are they in fact worth it?

October 8 vs Now

On October 8th, I found it very easy to say that we should send the entire Israeli army into Gaza and rain down havoc upon the people who attacked us so viciously. And there are plenty among us who feel that way to this day. And I get it. We weren’t just hurt a little. What happened to Israel that day was an unforgettable and unforgivable travesty.

But it’s not October 8th anymore.

And we’ve learned a lot since that day. About ourselves, about our leaders, about the way the world works.

One of the primary goals of the war was to get back the hostages. This is obviously of strict and immense importance. However, to date we’ve gotten just a handful of hostages back through military means. The vast majority of our family members who were returned to us came not through exciting military exercises but through negotiations. And in the process of trying to get our people back military, we’ve not only lost scores of soldiers, but we’ve inadvertently killed some of our hostages as well.

So are we in Gaza to get all the hostages safely home? Either it’s not the priority, and that’s awful. Or it is the priority, and we just haven’t been successful.

And after all the destruction we’ve brought to Gaza, and all the loss of our soldiers’ precious lives, we’ll likely have to return to the negotiating table once again anyway.

The Destruction of Hamas

Another primary goal is to destroy Hamas.

This goal bothered me from day one. It seemed too complex and impossible of a goal to be taken seriously. I’m not even sure what it means. Anyone can be Hamas! So if we kill all existing Hamas members and then 100 people in North Dakota declare they’re Hamas, did we retroactively not accomplish our goal?

You could say the goal was to weaken Hamas so thoroughly that it’d be years before they’d be able to do something like October 7th again. And that certainly is an important goal!

However, first off, it’s not what we’ve been told. We’re not supposed to be weakening Hamas. We’re supposed to be destroying them!

Second, as implied when I said “it’d be years before they’d be able to…”, if we don’t eradicate Hamas, we’re likely to have something like this happen to us again. And again. And again…

So either our goal is unlikely and unrealistic, or it’s insufficient and unsatisfying.

The Punishment

A final goal might be punishment.

I don’t know what more to say about this one. All the punishment in the world will not bring back the people we lost. It won’t make us safer. It won’t make us better received in the eyes of the world.

The likely case is there’s nothing we can do to Hamas that will make them feel punished. And the remaining people of Gaza, if they are in need of some level of retribution for harboring terrorists or the like, I think we can safely say that we’ve at least reached the point that they are appropriately chastised.

So again, what are we doing here?

There are, of course, other possibilities that are far more cynical. Perhaps there are some in this world evil enough that they are willing to drag this war out and risk the lives of thousands just to hang on a little longer to political power. Deep down I’d love to believe this isn’t the case. But I still fear it might be.

Rage Clouds Judgment

What could we possibly be doing that’s worth losing several soldiers every single day?

Everything I’m writing here comes with a heavy heart. I am, like so many people in my country, angry. Infuriated. And the anger points in many directions. Angry at Hamas. Angry at the way the world has treated Jews since the war began. Angry at those who dropped the ball on October 7th. Just angry at the universe in general, for producing such a maddening world.

And I, like so many others, want victory. Want Israel to stand tall when all the smoke clears, forever safe knowing its enemies are no longer a concern. Are incapable of ever causing us damage.

But that rage clouds judgment. It causes us to not see a bigger picture. To compromise on morals. To say and do things we don’t necessary truly believe.

What I Want

I want this war over.

I want peace.

I want Hamas out of the picture.

I want all of the hostages home, safe with their families.

I want our nation to sleep comfortably tonight, knowing it has everything it could ever need.

But I don’t know how all of that could happen.

Sacrifices will need to be made. New sacrifices. The question is: Which ones will they be?

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My Not Wheelchair-Friendly City

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I had a very unique and interesting experience this past Purim.

For those who didn’t see, my wife, son, and I got dressed up as Jenny, Lieutenant Dan, and Forrest Gump, respectively. As usual it was a success due to the many hours of thought and hard work put in by my amazing wife Devorah.

And as usual, my crazy son was willing to go above and beyond to make things work, which in the past included things like shaving his chest and letting his sister draw tattoos all over his torso or wearing a full body black morphsuit so with just a hand exposed he could be Thing from the Addams Family.

Lieutenant Dan

This year, the goal was to fully embody Lieutenant Dan, who was in a wheelchair due to losing both of his legs during the Vietnam War.

The wig was easy. The Hawaiian shirt, the scruffy beard, and the bottle in the paper bag were a piece of cake.

The part that gets Shlomo the honors and accolades he deserves was sitting on his legs to make it appear like he had none. And doing so extensively throughout the day, even though as you might expect, it was more than a little bit uncomfortable.

And it looked so realistic, thanks to both his dedicated sitting position, and the wondrous sewing skills of Devorah, that through the grapevine I found out some of my friends and co-workers were concerned that he really had no legs. Sorry about that, guys. Please be aware, he very much has legs. It was just a costume. Not meant to scare or freak out anyone. He’s doing great. And we’re just a little bit of a crazy family.

My Unfortunate Discovery

Anyhow, I made an interesting discovery as I wheeled my well-costumed but not-at-all disabled son throughout the Baka area of Jerusalem. This city is not even close to wheelchair friendly.

It wasn’t obvious at first. What was obvious was even the slightest incline made pushing the wheelchair far, far more difficult. But the inclines are often so slight that while walking or driving, they are barely perceptible. Not the case with a wheelchair. It was a workout, and every block was exhausting.

Then after just a short walk, we came to a flight of stairs. There was no ramp. No convenient alternative path. The options were walk around the block and hope for something better, carry a wheelchair up a flight of stairs, or just take care of things and leave the chair behind. In my opinion, all pretty cruddy options.

And here I was, walking on streets I’ve walked on hundreds of times. Walking up or by staircases I’ve seen dozens of times. But in the past I never gave them even a slight thought. They just were. They meant nothing to me. And it took a (fantastic) Purim costume to see my city through a different set of eyes.

Through Another’s Perspective

Like the Blind Museum or the Deaf Museum, amazing concepts where you step into someone’s else’s world and experience it from their perspective, I was inadvertently thrust into the universe of the disabled. And I felt a tinge of shame for never noticing the world this way before.

Thank goodness, my family and I are healthy. We are fully capable of walking on slight inclines, and climbing flights of stairs both leading up to and inside buildings. And I’m utterly grateful none of us have to suffer through figuring out how to navigate the craziness of a world that sees our needs as secondary.

But I can’t go back to looking at Jerusalem the way I used to.

Whenever I trip on uneven pavement and get slightly annoyed, I’ll think back to that day. That day when I found that some curb ramps were incomplete, leaving bumps that made moving the wheelchair really difficult. That day when I saw that some of these ramps weren’t even placed in the correct locations.

That day we decided, after a half hour of making deliveries with a wheelchair, that is was too difficult and inconvenient to continue doing it that way.

Putting the Wheelchair to the Side

We had the option to fold up the wheelchair and put it to the side. But there are plenty of people out there who aren’t in costume. Who aren’t doing this to amuse friends and family on Facebook. They will not be able to just fold up their wheelchairs and walk around “normally” for the rest of their day. They are stuck with two choices: Brave the inconvenience of their circumstances and just look for ways around them all day, every day. Or stay at home and fall victim to a world that has not sufficiently concerned itself with their plight.

In either case, they will remain invisible to most of us. Most people won’t take to the streets in a wheelchair to try and become better aware of the world they live in.

Which leads to the question:

I had the epiphany. What now?

And, sadly, I have absolutely no idea what the answer to that question is.

In fact, it’s worse than that. I might have an answer to the question. But like everything I’ve done here, I’m too tired to pursue justice.

Too Tired to Make a Change

I got screwed by my phone company, took them to small claim’s court, and watched the system chew me up and spit me out. I got bashed with medical malpractice, pursued every channel I could think of, and just hit wall after inattentive wall.

I want to dive into the trenches and fight for a better country. But I don’t have what it takes. It’s an intense battle, fighting in a sea of apathy to accomplish goals that others don’t share with me.

And I’m too jaded to even give it a second thought.

My heart goes out to anyone trying to wheel themselves around my neighborhood. More so than ever before. I feel for anyone who turns a corner to find stairs they can’t climb with no ramp in sight. For the first time, I feel your pain.

I wish I had the energy to stand up and yell on your behalf. To demand we do better.

I know it’s a step in the right direction for me personally.

I just wish to God I could do more.

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Deep Inside, a Very Different Yom Haatzmaut

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We are standing a mere hours since Israel just celebrated its 76th Yom Haatzmaut (Independence Day), and it was a very bittersweet one.

It’s not every day you celebrate a glorious holiday like this with such an immense cloud hanging over you. Yes, Israel exists. It’s free from the control of outside tyrannical forces. And a dream of thousands of years has been fulfilled.

But this is the first celebration of Yom Haatzmaut since the deadly and grotesque massacres of October 7th. This is the first celebration since the country’s equilibrium was thrown into turmoil by the worst attack on Israeli soil since the country came into existence. And it’s a hard holiday to come to terms with.

Joy Despite Tragedy

Yes, I do believe a person needs to find happiness and joy despite the tragedies in their life. And even though we are six months later, which is nothing in the big picture, one cannot mourn a loss forever. Eventually normality must take over again, or humanity would not be able to function.

And some people toned things down to enough of a degree that it was obvious this year’s Yom Haatzmaut was not like others.

But to see my social media filled with celebrations in the heart of the city that looked like giant raves was hard for me. I’m not judging anyone involved. Everyone has the right to celebrate as they choose. And everyone’s coping mechanisms are different.

But for me personally, something just felt off seeing these pictures and videos.

Not the Dead or the Dying

Oddly enough, it’s not because of the tragic deaths of October 7th. As I mentioned, we can’t walk around in a state of mourning forever. We need to return to the way we were before. Eventually. Work is work. Family is family. And they need to function, regardless of the past.

Nor is it because of the soldiers risking their lives every single day.

It’s not easy to say this. Or feel this. There’s something inherently qualitatively different about the deaths of soldiers versus those of civilians. It’s not that we don’t mourn the loss of a soldier. We most certainly do. It’s that the civilian’s death can be described as a senseless tragedy. But the soldier who falls defending Israel dies a hero. And they die performing the role they are assigned to at that moment.

They perish so that a nation can flourish in their memory. Every breath of air we take is in the merit of those who stand on the front lines to keep us safe.

Every breath of air we take is in the merit of those who stand on the front lines to keep us safe.
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Their deaths are tragic. Beyond tragic. Devastating. Not to mention that in Israel the distinction between soldier and civilian is a lot less pronounced. All of them are our children or our friends’ and neighbors’ children. And they live and fight amongst us.

But something’s different.

We Need to Celebrate

And many soldiers like to remind the general population that we should not feel guilty if we’re celebrating Yom Haatzmaut. In fact, quite the opposite. We should feel guilty if we choose not to celebrate!

Why? Because that’s why the many soldiers are charging into Gazan cities and risking their lives. If we don’t celebrate our independence, why are they there? If we’re not able to live our lives, to feel joy in the streets of Tel Aviv and Jerusalem, then the soldier who might not come home tomorrow fights for nothing. And that could potentially be a tough pill to swallow.

So I get it. We should celebrate. We can’t mourn forever. And despite the horrors of war, we need to continuously enjoy the fruits of their efforts.

But the story doesn’t end there. If it did, I wouldn’t be as conflicted. And on Yom Haatzmaut I could have swallowed my delicious barbecue chicken and Arak with a little more glee.

But there still exists a group of people who continue to suffer. And who’s suffering comes with no benefits or glory.

Hard to Swallow

And it should give us pause. We should struggle to swallow the delicious holiday foods when we remember that somewhere buried in tunnels deep in Gaza there are scores of innocent Israelis who don’t know what day it is. And that is very much the least of their problems.

The hostages taken on October 7th are not something we can stop thinking about. There’s no proper defense mechanism that helps one forget the horrors someone is facing this very minute.

While we dance in the streets, there can be a small child who hasn’t seen the light of day for months. A father who is being beaten relentlessly for the “crime” of living in Israel. A soldier who doesn’t know if he’ll ever taste his mom’s cooking again.

They sit starving and terrified, without any knowledge of what the next day will bring. Progressively giving up hope that someone will miraculously rescue them. Wondering whether they will just wither in the spot they lay until their final day.

They are not heroes, in the traditional sense. They gained fame and notoriety not because of their actions, but because of the wicked deeds of others. In a heartbeat they would choose to be anonymous once again.

They just want to go home. They want to leave their terror and start their healing. And never think about Hamas, ever again.

And we eat burgers. Drink some wine. Sing some songs. And put the horror of reality as far into the back of our minds as possible, lest we not be able to rise from our beds in the morning, let alone gleefully celebrate yet another year of independence.

A Very Different Yom Haatzmaut

This Yom Haatzmaut isn’t like others.

Israel’s independence is worthy of celebration. But it’s also worthy of recognizing that we are not where we want to be. Not where we need to be.

We can’t defend ourselves without the world screaming at us for genocide. We can’t successfully protect our borders.

And in six months we haven’t brought our children back home.

It’s so easy to be jovial. To put all of these terrors in the back of our mind.

For a day.

But it’s still there. It’s always there. And that nagging voice that tells us all that we’re not OK doesn’t seem to be going anywhere.

The post Deep Inside, a Very Different Yom Haatzmaut is featured at Jaffe World.

Are these college kids fighting the good fight?

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I’ve been watching videos about college campus protests and reading avidly about them for weeks now. And I am trying desperately to collect my thoughts. But I am nowhere near where I want to be. I am confused. Hurt. Angry. And curious how this all comes to an end.

I have spent three years of my life living on campuses in America, two as a student, one as an employee. I saw a lot of interesting things during my time. Heard plenty of stories of things that happened before my arrival. But I have never seen anything remotely similar to what I’m hearing about now.

This is next level insanity.

Inane Youth

My first thoughts are about the inane nature of the modern youth participating in these protests. Who are these kids and where are the adults who could have and should have been better influences on their lives? They behave like there are no consequences. As if trespassing can’t result in removal. As if standing up before the world espousing a position without knowledge in 2024 cannot result in ridicule.

They make insane demands for “humanitarian aid” and condemn people for actions not yet committed.

And yes, I watch the videos and laugh at them. Just like everyone else around me.

But it’s an uncomfortable laughter.

College: Young, Dumb, and Special

Why? Because that was me at some point not outside my memory. Young and dumb. Too ignorant to realize that my arguments were weak and unsupported by any data I possessed. With my strings being pulled by others around me with agendas and the need for a crowd. And, of course, thinking of myself on the right side of history. Looking toward a future where people will look at me like society now looks at the Civil Rights Movement, a hero who sacrificed everything because he knew he was fighting the good fight. Knew he was making a difference. Knew the world would be a better place if those around him would finally see the truth as well.

College is a distinctive and special time in life.

I don’t think this is unique, but I feel like I’m a product of decisions I made during that period in my life. When you’re in your twenties, you have the potential to soak up influences around you. And instead of questioning and resisting, you dive in head first, and next thing you know you’re fanatically connected to something you never knew imaginable.

But then you hit your thirties.

You have a spouse, maybe a couple of kids. A job. Bills to pay.

You can’t afford to uproot your life from where you are, so the driving force of everything you do is inertia. You just exist, no longer pulled toward anything new. You’re just flowing with whatever insane creation resulted from decisions when you were young.

So I look upon these students with a hefty amount of mixed emotions, everything from envy to angst. They’re letting some level of ignorant fervor out of their system while they’re young enough that there will likely be few or even no consequences to their words or actions. That’s when you’re supposed to make terrible decisions.

Fighting the Good Fight?

But that leads me to my next point: Are they actually fighting the good fight? And if not, what’s the root of their misguided lunacy?

I’d like to believe that it’s not antisemitism. It might be for some. But I don’t think they’re wandering around with hate in their hearts for the Jews. In fact, my guess is a large percentage of them actually are Jews.

I do think they have a tendency to latch themselves on to various causes, and then they throw their weight behind those causes, even if they don’t fully understand what they’re fighting for. If I were a betting man, I’d say there’s probably a huge crossover between these protesters and people who would fight for a transgender woman to be able to wrestle or swim alongside biological women.

And to an extent, there’s a connection.

They’re fighting for who they perceive to be the underdog. They’re fighting for the rights of the oppressed, logic be damned. It’s not about a strict evaluation of every cause, or really thinking things through to their logical conclusion. They’re fighting for those they’re told are being damaged by elements of society stronger than they.

But that doesn’t explain the intensity.

Why the Intensity?

These students aren’t flooding campuses fighting for Ukraine. They’re not disrupting classes and risking arrest fighting for women’s rights in Iran. They’re not even taking to the streets to yell catchy slogans when the Unites States spends two decades in foreign nations attempting to deal with those who committed the heinous acts of September 11, 2001.

Surely the perpetrators (the “underdogs”) are thoroughly chastised by now. And certainly America is the more powerful entity, capable of reducing Afghanistan to ashes in hours.

But these are either not causes this population has chosen to stand behind. Or they’re causes they believe in, but their responses are more measured. There’s no protests. There’s no flooding social media. And there’s certainly no mass attempts to take over college campuses and act aggressively toward students who share views or ethnicities with those they feel are in the wrong.

So why here?

Two Possible Reasons

Only two answers come to mind, although I’d love to hear other theories.

The first is that there are people pulling their strings. Amping them up. A thoroughly well-funded machine is manipulating young, energetic college students, whipping them up into a frenzy using buzzwords incorrectly like “genocide” and “apartheid”, until they’re ready to wildly do anything to fight for this cause they just started caring about yesterday.

The other reason?

They’re just straight-up antisemitic.

I don’t like saying this. I feel like I’m making a cop out explanation for things I don’t understand when I ultimately point to this.

But I’m baffled, and it’s the only explanation that makes sense to me.

Do I believe there exist some sincere college students out there, truly bothered by what’s happening in Israel? There may be a few. There may even be some with a shred of knowledge here and there.

But they are the exception to the rule.

Puppets or Haters?

My guess is a whole lot of them innately don’t like Jews. Inexplicably. They would never say it outright. But they relish in opportunities to criticize Jews and Israel while masking it under a guise of supporting Palestinians. But it’s one big lie. They couldn’t care less about Palestinians. They didn’t yesterday, and they won’t tomorrow. But it’s a convenient way to express their anger and frustration at something else they passionately dislike.

And the rest? They’re puppets. Someone else who hates Israel knows how to push all the right buttons to manipulate young, easily influenced children to stand in the middle of a campus and shout slogans. They don’t hate the Jews or Israel. They have no real thoughts or opinions on the matter. They just repeat crap others tell them to believe.

They’re just pawns in someone else’s battle, with no minds of their own.

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Unorthodox Revisited

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Several years ago the TV show phenomenon known as Unorthodox came to Netflix and created a firestorm in the Jewish world. Out of sheer curiosity, I watched it, loved it, and wrote this article.

I found the show deep and moving in so many ways. And still highly recommend it.

I liked the show so much that when I saw the book the show was based on sitting in the lending library at work, I figured it deserved my attention. So I sat and avidly read the tale of Deborah Feldman, the real person upon whom the TV show was based.

And I was shocked to the core… at how frustrated the book made me.

Screen Adaptations

Of course it’s never a good idea to see the screen adaptation of a beloved book. It disappoints almost every time. And TV and film makers for a host of reasons must adjust the story to make it more fitting for the screen.

But this was something different.

I would say at best 10% of the show was actually connected to the book. At best! The rest was all just made up blah blah to dazzle us while we sit at home staring at our TVs or computers.

In fact, I sat there frustrated because the majority of the book took place before the events of the show. So I was constantly saying to myself, “When does this happen? When does that happen?”

And some did happen. Eventually. And with far less excitement.

Unorthodox Differences

No daring escape from Brooklyn. No running away to Germany. No ambitious pursuit of a career in music. No unsavory cousin chasing after the protagonist with a gun. No relenting husband passionately cutting off his peyos in a feeble attempt to win back his wife.

Nope. None of it at all.

In fact, I would go as far as to say that not only were the most interesting moments in the show entirely made up, but for whatever reason the most intense and fascinating stories from the book weren’t included in the show either.

No, the show made no mention of the Mexican worker who sexually harassed her as a child or the cousin who attempted to molest her. There was no moment when she and a friend got in trouble at camp and were basically told they can’t have private conversations on account of the possibility of secret lesbianism. And the show excluded Deborah’s shocking discovery as she prepared for marriage of how female anatomy works.

In addition, a driving theme in the book was her advanced English skills and her love of the language. Yet in the show the character looked like she was plodding her way through her second language, and if she enjoyed literature in any way, it was unknown to the viewers.

The Unlikable Author

And let’s not forget how the Hollywood version of our protagonist was supremely likable and always in the right.

There were several times throughout the book in which I found the author everything from whiny to downright immoral. It’s hard to sympathize with someone who would drive to the mikvah (ritual bath) and sit in her car reading before returning to her husband and lying about her ritual status. It’s hard to celebrate the person who uses her husband’s income to go study literature at a college, tricking him into thinking she’s studying business (if I remember correctly). All the while secretly wearing jeans and going out with new friends to try non-kosher food delights.

She didn’t come off as an oppressed girl, beaten down by a society that would never accept her. She came off as a person with a moderately challenging life who is unhappy with the culture she grew up in. And is choosing to rebel in secret at every turn.

Unorthodox: Show vs Book

The former is a story worthy of a hit show on Netflix. The latter–the truth–isn’t all that interesting to think about.

The former is the tale of a courageous young girl, overflowing with undiscovered talent, who devises a plan to boldly escape her neighborhood, not knowing what was out there in the world. Leaving all she knew behind despite the inherent dangers, marching off into the unknown.

The latter is the story of a girl who really enjoys reading in English who doesn’t respect Chassidic culture and whose legitimate qualms with her own people get swallowed up by the fact that it seems like everything bothers her.

The former has unforgettable images of a girl submerging in water as her wig falls away, while several onlookers watch her break free from the chains of her oppression. The latter has a girl in jeans smoking in a car, invoking emotions no greater than that of your average teenager who’s fed up with their boring home.

The former was a hit television show. The latter is a book I will quickly start forgetting.

The Unorthodox Lie

I know Hollywood will always make book adaptations more dramatic. It’s what they do. And I know “based on a true story” can absolutely mean “loosely based on a true story”. But this felt exaggerated to me. Why? Perhaps because it’s not a foreign concept. I’m from New York. I’ve been to Brooklyn many times. In fact, I’ve spent Shabbat in Boro Park with the Satmar community.

And I had a lovely time.

And I know that different people will have different experiences. And I know that growing up in a community might leave you feeling like there’s no choices in life. And I am more than well aware that it’s more complex for a woman.

Nevertheless, I feel like I was lied to. I feel like the author allowed her story to be adapted to make it dishonest and significantly more interesting, causing me to distrust pretty much anyone’s tale I see. And when the topic is of great interest and import, a story that needs to be told, there can’t afford to be blemishes. If I don’t trust you, I am not willing to listen to what you have to say. And we take a step backwards.

I don’t know what the better option is. Perhaps these adaptations need to be clearer how little they are connected to reality. Perhaps they should be created with a disconnect from the book. Or perhaps I need to just let it go, suspend reality, and not concern myself with the fact that what I watched was one big intriguing lie.

But I can’t. And now I feel stuck between loving a show, disliking a book, and having trouble reconciling the two.

The post Unorthodox Revisited is featured at Jaffe World.

The Midnight Library: A Missed Responsibility

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I recently read a book called The Midnight Library, by Matt Haig. I’ll start off by saying the book was fine. Not amazing, but good enough to keep me entertained from start to finish.

But by the time I completed The Midnight Library, I was left with a sour taste in my mouth. I was irritated by one aspect of the book above all. And I couldn’t get past it.

Intro to the Midnight Library

The book dove into the life of a woman who was blessed with loads of incredible abilities, from being a fantastic singer/songwriter to being an exceptional swimmer. But she made lots of choices over the years leading her to where she was now, a woman who was nowhere near where she wanted to be in life. Depressed. And she had made up her mind that the world didn’t need her, and she and everyone else in her life would be better off if she took her own life.

What transpired next was a fantasy-filled trek through what her life might have been if she made different decisions, a la Ebenezer Scrooge. And ultimately the theme of the book is to never look back at the decisions you made with regret, and learn to live in the present. Life is and can be great if you own your decisions and make peace with them, and think about the future as an unwritten script that you can craft and make fantastic.

Where it Went Wrong

I can get over the mediocre book. And I can get past the fact that The Midnight Library had a really strong and meaningful start, then dove into a hard to really appreciate fantasy world that’s not my cup of tea.

My sticking point was the ultimately cavalier attitude and approach to some painfully complex ideas, such as depression and suicide.

Fact is, these are problems that aren’t going to be solved through philosophy or books with feel-good endings. No one seriously contemplating the end of their life will read several hundred pages of a novel, put it down, and say, “Ah, I had it all wrong. Things aren’t so bad. I just need to stop regretting and start living my life with a certain level of happiness behind my every decision.”

It’s not a reality for the average clinically depressed person. And it paints a picture for those who watch their loved ones suffering from the sidelines that can be both confusing and perhaps even detrimental.

Depression is Not Simplistic

There are chemical reactions happening in a brain. Something’s not firing the way it’s supposed to.

And yes, on television we can give someone a two-minute speech that turns their whole life around, but in real life problems are a lot harder to solve. And years of therapy can, of course, be quite helpful. But there are no guarantees. And sometimes drugs will be necessary. And even that is no guarantee depression will be staved off and death will be kept at bay.

Those of us whose lives have been touched and permanently impacted by someone or several people who have taken their own lives look at a book like this and wonder how anyone could present these ideas so simplistically.

Everyone out there, please know: If you cut a major artery or swallow a bottle of prescription meds, you will not enter a fantasy world in which you will get to experience all the different ways your life could have been.

Most likely the results will be swift and deadly, and you will leave a world behind that is overwhelmed with grief and sadness. And blames itself for not doing more to help you.

The Blame Effect

The first time my life was touched by suicide, I witnessed a phenomenon I’d never seen before. I watched a whole room blame themselves for what happened, with some of the shoddiest logic you can imagine. People would say things like, “We were supposed to hang out two years ago, but I had to cancel. I wonder if this is because of me. Is this all my fault?”

Everyone was doing some form of this.

Why? Because we want to be better friends. And because we’re trying to make sense of the senseless. We’re trying to understand something far beyond our grasp. And we head in the only direction we can actually understand: Self-blame.

Blame is easy. Blame in convenient.

The truth is neither.

It’s Not Enough

The fact is everyone in that room could have done everything they now realized they didn’t do and more, and the results could have been exactly the same. Something was wrong. And likely bottled inside, not fully obvious, even to those closest to him. It’s not your fault if you can’t see the invisible thing that no one else can see either.

And that’s why the theme of The Midnight Library concerns me so much.

Learning how to take ownership of your decisions is not enough. Learning how to fight against the pernicious emotion of regret will fall short. And the contemplation of lives you may have led will not only not cure most depression. It may even exacerbate the problem.

A Responsibility Arises

Again, I didn’t hate The Midnight Library. From a literary standpoint, it was not my favorite book. But capturing my attention should not have been the sole purpose of the book. It’s trying to make a difference, and I think it sends us a little backwards.

If you are suffering, or know someone who’s suffering, recommend a therapist or encourage real medical help. Be a friend. Be a listening ear and a shoulder to cry on. But I would not tell them to set aside several hours to read this book.

You may argue that in the big picture it does not matter. A book is just a book. It doesn’t have to be more than story telling. And I completely sympathize with that approach.

However, I think when the subject of suicide arises, perhaps even mental health in general, a responsibility arises along with it. We can’t be careless. We can’t be carefree. We share a collective, societal responsibility. And we need to send clear, intelligent, and caring messages that hit the mark. Otherwise we’re not making the world a better place.

We’re just writing a book.

But there are so many topics to write about. Why bring up one so dark and dreadful if not to make a difference?

The post The Midnight Library: A Missed Responsibility is featured at Jaffe World.

Driving in Israel: A Broken System

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Yesterday was a big day. I finally successfully passed my exam to receive my Israeli driver’s license.

I’d love to say it was a pleasant experience. Or a fruitful experience. Or even a mildly reasonable experience. But it was none of these. Here’s my story:

Entering the System

I’ve been driving for nearly two decades. I’ve had a license in and driven extensively in three states. I would not call myself the best driver in the world, but I’m fine. Certainly good enough to get from point A to point B efficiently and without any issues. But under most circumstances, in Israel your previous pieces of paper and your experience don’t matter. If you’re in the system in any capacity, you’ve entered one of the biggest scams in the country. And it’s not going to be fun.

There is a process (currently) in Israel that allows you to quickly and easily transfer a license; however, that’s only if you do so within a certain window of moving here. Once the window closes, your status is up to the decision of whatever clerk you interact with that morning. My clerk’s decision: Take the theory test. Take the driving test. And boom, all is converted.

And I took the theory test. Got a 29 out of 30. Took me about seven minutes. And that’s basically the last positive piece of this story….

My First Instructor

So in theory I should just go straight to the next step. But apparently when you take the driving test, you need to use your instructor’s vehicle. And you can’t get an instructor’s vehicle… without an instructor. And they won’t provide that service without you taking at least a few lessons, which are, of course, quite pricey.

I first found a teacher who fit all the stereotypes of an awful driving instructor. He was harsh and aggressive. He was constantly on his phone. He used the time for doing his chores! We literally stopped once at a car shop, and he ran out of the car for a couple of minutes to take care of a few things. And I never felt like he was trustworthy at all. When time came to pay, he charged me an ungodly amount of money and scribbled an illegible receipt, and I was at his mercy. Because that’s how the system’s designed.

The Driving Test

And then we come to my test.

A few facts about these tests:

You have no control over when they happen. You will get a text message with a date and time, and if you can’t be there, no one cares in the slightest.To pass the test you must drive flawlessly for 20 minutes. That’s it. Any mistake, big or small, and it’s over. You fail and need to sign up for another test, whenever that will be.It is the absolute worst possible environment for making that possible. For a dozen reasons, you’re a nervous wreck. The stakes are high. Someone’s watching your every move like a hawk. The roads are terribly unforgiving. If it doesn’t go your way, the financial burden will just continue and continue. And you are well aware that all it takes is the slightest error, and you’re screwed.Despite this ridiculously rigorous system, the whole country is filled to the brim with insanely bad drivers.

I’ve heard and offered several theories about why Israelis are such horrific drivers. Some say it’s because they drive like they behave. Others think it’s just a Middle East cultural thing. But one of my favorite theories is that after dozens of annoying, expensive lessons, all to take a test several times, just to show some rude, aggressive tester you could drive decently for 20 minutes, they walk away never wanting to drive well again.

And I get it.

I found myself itching to speed up a little and zoom through yellow lights and to generally just act with some semblance of freedom behind the wheel.

Driving Test #1

So, how’d my test go?

Not so great. The tester was clearly very frustrated with me. The guy before me drove through clear, open roads, while I was taken deep into tiny little streets not meant for an actual vehicle. I was a nervous wreck from start to finish. And several hours later, I was told I failed.

It wasn’t a good day for me.

I’ve been driving for most of my adult life, can’t remember failing any test since maybe high school, and I knew that I was right back where I started, just a little poorer.

We knew I needed a new instructor, and fortunately found a guy who was excellent. The unfortunate part is it took us way too long to get there, and by the time the smoke cleared, it once again felt like starting over. And in some ways worse, because now I have all the nerves from beforehand… and a war going on to make things even more tense.

My new teacher was great. But a system designed to fail students is what it is. It’s one giant racket. Determining whether or not a person can drive based on watching them meticulously for twenty minutes is a way to instigate poor performance, thus you’ll be forced to come back time and time again. It encourages failure, because failure equals higher revenue.

For the average Israeli teenager, the process is miserable.

For a 46-year-old who’s been driving most of his adult life, it’s downright emasculating.

And test #2 went poorly. Again.

But I dusted off my shoulders, and got back in there. Ready to conquer in try number three.

New Holes to Fall Into

I got to my third test. I was in the zone. I was calm. I was confident. I was ready to rumble.

But the universe had different plans for me.

I sat down to my test, and the tester pushed the wrong button, cancelling the exam. This was unprecedented, and there was no system in place for fixing the problem. I was sent home, and couldn’t schedule a test for another month and a half! And it landed on a holiday. And there was nothing I could do, because they give you the date and time, and that’s it. I’ve already fallen through every hole in Israel… so now they need to invent new ones for me.

A Better System?

I passed the next try. And now I’m able to legally drive. But the experience leaves a really gross taste in my mouth.

We tend to not look back in Israel. I noticed this a lot with complex apartment situations. When you have a crappy apartment and a terrible landlord, you’re trapped. No one’s looking out for you, and you’re basically at the mercy of their whims and wishes.

But then you get out, find a decent place with a decent landlord. And you forget what you wen through. You sigh when you hear other people’s stories, but then move on with your day.

But it’s not right.

Bad systems are bad systems, even if you’re not directly involved or you’ve moved past them.

The rental situation in Israel is an abomination. And the driver’s license situation is as well. We’ve all come to accept them as facts. Things one must live with if they want to enjoy the sweet serenity of being in the Jewish homeland.

But nothing’s static. Progress is always possible. It just needs enough voices to come together and say, “We want something better. We deserve something better.”

Sadly, most of us are two tired to even try anymore.

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