Empathy is Bipartisan

If you saw it you would understand. The heartbreak. The utter heartbreak.

Right before she begins her speech at the DNC with her husband Jon at her side, she hears tens of thousands of people chanting “Bring Them Home.” Rachel Goldberg puts her hand on her forehead and then collapses on the lectern, her body convulsing as she begins to cry. Jon helps her stand and says to her gently, “You’ve got this.” And then, “Let’s go.”

And she starts to speak: “At this moment 109 treasured human beings are being held hostage by Hamas in Gaza. They are Christians, Jews, Muslims, Hindus, and Buddhists. They are from 23 different countries. The youngest hostage is a one-year-old, red-headed baby boy. And the oldest is an 86-year-old mustachioed grandpa. Among the hostages are eight American citizens. One of those Americans is our only son. His name is Hersh. He’s 23 years old.”

She tells us that Hersh is a happy go lucky young man who loves soccer and music, and is obsessed with travel, his room at home filled with atlases and travel books.

If the impassioned plea by Jon and Rachel on behalf of their child and the rest of the hostages doesn’t open your heart, I can’t imagine what would.

This is an issue that, no matter our politics, every American should be fighting for, along with every person of conscience in the world.

Jon referenced this directly when he said, “We are heartened that both Democratic and Republican leaders demonstrate their bipartisan support for our hostages being released.”

At last month’s RNC gathering, Orna and Ronen Neutra, the parents of Omer, age 22, another Israeli-American being held hostage in Gaza, spoke and there as well we heard the convention participants chanting in one voice, “Bring Them Home.”

Empathy should be bipartisan and, yes, empathy should extend to the innocents in Gaza who suffer mostly because of the intentional cruelty of the Hamas leadership. 

Jon and Rachel demonstrated powerfully their own empathy by acknowledging that the agony they feel is not unique. It is shared of course by the families of the other hostages and it is experienced as well by millions of others in the region, Israeli and Palestinian alike, who are affected by the awful war initiated by the terror attacks of Oct. 7: the tens of thousands of Israelis who have had to evacuate their homes; Gazan families who desperately seek safety in the middle of a war zone; survivors of the Nova music festival who struggle with the horrific trauma they witnessed; soldiers who are asked to do hard things so that terrorists might be brought to justice, hostages might be rescued, and whole communities kept safe.

There is so much agony on every side. As Jon put it: “There is a surplus of agony on all sides of the tragic conflict in the Middle East. In a competition of pain there are no winners. In an inflamed Middle East we know the one thing that can most immediately release pressure and bring calm to the entire region: a deal that brings this diverse group of 109 hostages home and ends the suffering of the innocent civilians in Gaza.”

We need to bring Hersh and Omer home, now, along with Kfir and Ariel, Carmel and Liri—every last one of them including the dead so that we might bury them properly.

It’s been far, far too long. 

The masking tape on Jon and Rachel’s shirts made this clear, noting exactly how many days have passed since the hostages were taken: 320.

It’s been almost a year since these sons and daughters, mothers and fathers and grandparents were stolen from their lives and their families — almost a year of unimaginable agony.

Our broken hearts must remain open. We must hold on to our capacity for empathy.

Our broken hearts must remain open. We must hold on to our capacity for empathy. 

Last week’s Torah portion Eikev points the way.

“Cut away the thickening about your hearts and stiffen your necks no more. For the ETERNAL your God is God supreme and Sovereign supreme, the great, the mighty, and the awesome God, who shows no favor and takes no bribe, but upholds the cause of the fatherless and the widow, and loves the stranger, providing food and clothing. You too must love the stranger, for you were strangers in the land of Egypt” (Deuteronomy 10:16-19)

Our Torah calls us to stop being hard-hearted, stubborn and stiff-necked, to see the pain of the orphan and the widow, the agony of the stranger, of the other.

Our Torah calls us to stop being hard-hearted, stubborn and stiff-necked, to see the pain of the orphan and the widow, the agony of the stranger, of the other. 

These verses remind us that empathy is divine, a Godly attribute that as God’s creations we can actually hope to attain.

We can do this. We are capable of seeing the agony of the other. We can cut away the “thickening of our hearts” and love even the stranger. 

And then, regardless of race or religion, political affiliation or ethnic background, we will someday experience justice, liberty and peace together.

Rabbi Yoshi Zweiback is the Senior Rabbi of Stephen Wise Temple in Los Angeles, California.