April 6, 2022

Everyone seemed to be talking about the “Slap Heard ‘Round the World” last week.

That’s understandable. It’s not every day that you witness a physical assault unfold on live television involving public figures that, in some ways, you feel you know because you’ve seen them so many times on TV and in film. It happened so quickly and so unexpectedly that many of us thought it was a “bit” of some sort. It wasn’t.

Such a moment can and should inspire conversations about what it means to stand up for others when they are insulted or abused, whatever the context or the intent. It might lead us to reflect on the fraying of societal norms, the coarseness of today’s discourse, and, more broadly, the disturbing “ambient rage” that manifests as troubling violent outbursts on planes, in retail outlets, and in other public places.

It also gives us an opportunity to reflect on what we pay attention to and what, as a result, we ignore. 

With all the talk about that dramatic moment at the Oscars, much of the world ignored a more important story, one about true courage and what it really means to come to someone’s defense.

Around the same time as the Oscars, a Palestinian gunman murdered five people in Bnei Brak. Two of them — Victor Sorokopot and Dimitri Mitrik — were Ukrainian foreign residents who came to Israel to work in construction. Ya’akov Shalom, out running errands in preparation for the Passover holiday, was gunned down in his car. Avishai Yechezkel, a 29-year-old teacher, was out with his son for an evening walk. He died shielding 1-year-old Ariel from the gunman. 

The final victim was Sgt. Amir Khoury, a Christian Arab Israeli police officer who rushed to the scene. He and a fellow officer exchanged gunfire with the terrorist. Sgt. Khoury and the gunman were both killed in the exchange.

Sgt. Khoury’s fiancé Shani Yashar said: “I told him to be careful. He said he would defend everyone, even if it cost him his life.”

Amir Khoury sacrificed his life in an effort to defend those whose lives he had sworn to protect. Avishai Yechezkel died defending his son Ariel.

This is courage. This is heroism. This is something especially worthy of our attention.

This is a story about our shared humanity. Khoury was Christian. His sacrifice has touched the hearts of Israelis from every segment of Israeli society. The fact that thousands of ultra-Orthodox Jews, including rabbis, journeyed to Nof Hagalil to pay their respects says volumes about the way Khoury’s act of courage has stirred the soul of a nation.

This is also a story about our shared humanity. Khoury was Christian. His sacrifice has touched the hearts of Israelis from every segment of Israeli society. The fact that thousands of ultra-Orthodox Jews, including rabbis, journeyed to Nof Hagalil to pay their respects says volumes about the way Khoury’s act of courage has stirred the soul of a nation.

Here is how Public Security Minister Omer Barlev put it: “In a small country like ours, personal pain quickly becomes one shared by many, by all the citizens of Israel. We will not forget Amir. May his memory be a blessing.”

His fiancé, Shani, said this at his gravesite: “Rest in peace, my hero of Israel. Hero of the whole people of Israel,” she cried. “All of Israel gives you its thanks. I don’t want them to thank you. But you deserve it.”

Will Smith and Chris Rock are the names on everyone’s lips at the moment. Their shocking altercation at the Oscars will ensure that they stay in the headlines.

But there are other names that merit to be on everyone’s lips, such as Amir Khoury and Avishai Yechezkel. Their stories of heroism are the ones we dare not forget and should be telling and retelling at our Seder tables this year. 

May their memories and those of everyday heroes who risk their lives for others be for a blessing.

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

April is the cruelest month. But with apologies to T.S. Eliot, this year in the Middle East it could be the most dangerous month as well.

Every ten years, the holidays of Passover, Easter and Ramadan overlap, and U.S. diplomats have been working with security officials throughout the region to prepare for an increased likelihood of violence in Jerusalem as tensions rise and true believers of all three faiths converge on the city. 

Ramadan began on April 2 and continues throughout the month. Passover, of course, starts on April 15 and is celebrated for eight days. The Catholic and Protestant Easter takes place on April 17 and the Orthodox Easter one week later on April 24. That is a lot of religious fervor in a dense Jerusalem over a short period of time. 

But even before the calendar turned to April, those tensions already erupted in violence and tragedy. A wave of terrorist attacks over the last week of March resulted in the deaths of 11 Israelis and not only forced the issue of personal security back to the forefront of Israeli politics but also offered an ugly reminder of the fragile foundation on which Israel’s diplomatic outreach to potential Arab allies is resting.

It seems like just over a week ago that many of us were minimizing the importance of the Israeli-Palestinian conflict. The Abraham Accords had laid the groundwork for not just economic and cultural but military cooperation between Israel and four Gulf states, and created the possibility of broadening previously existing relationships with Egypt and Jordan. Angry Palestinian voices protested the formation of these relationships, but it seemed like much of the Arab World was more concerned with the threat of Iran and cooperation with Israel than the complaints of the Palestinians.

Every ten years, the holidays of Passover, Easter and Ramadan overlap. That is a lot of religious fervor in a dense Jerusalem over a short period of time.

But the old era isn’t ready to step aside just yet. All three terror attacks took place within days of the Negev Summit, a series of diplomatic meetings between Israel and its Arab allies. The message was clear: further efforts to improve relations would be met with similar acts of terror. It doesn’t appear that any of the countries that has been meeting with Israel is backing off, but these attacks are the loudest reminder to leaders throughout the region that the potential for backlash to diplomatic progress is quite real. For Saudi Arabia in particular, whose leaders have worked quietly with Israel on security measures even while keeping a careful public distance, the attacks could send a very discouraging message.

The political ramifications within Israel are also noteworthy. Prime Minister Naftali Bennett’s precarious governing coalition is based on the idea of ignoring some of the most controversial issues that split the various factions, but an outbreak of terrorist activity makes that more difficult. Bennett must now fashion a security platform that can at least be tolerated by the wide array of left, center and right lawmakers and their constituencies, all while withstanding heightened criticism from opposition leader Benjamin Netanyahu for sacrificing the country’s safety to appease the more liberal members of his coalition.

Bennett will also face renewed pressure to abandon talks with the Arab countries, which critics suggest send a message of weakness and appeasement to Israel’s enemies. But as the United States continues to press forward toward a new nuclear agreement with Iran, the Gulf states could be Israel’s strongest allies in working to prevent — or at least weaken — the deal. Retreating from these new diplomatic and military partnerships could make Israel even more vulnerable to Iranian aggression.

And all this takes place at a time when Jerusalem will be hosting thousands of pilgrims from three of the world’s most prominent religions at an overlapping time on the calendar. There is never a good time for a terrorist attack, but the next few weeks have the potential to be especially fraught with peril. Elliot said that April was cruel because it was when we dared to hope. That might not be an issue this month.

Dan Schnur is a Professor at the University of California – Berkeley, USC and Pepperdine. Join Dan for his weekly webinar “Politics in the Time of Coronavirus” (www/lawac.org) on Tuesdays at 5 PM.

I love the 1959 film, “Pillow Talk,” starring Rock Hudson and Doris Day. Though some of the dialogue would make a modern woman wince, there’s one scene that’s stayed with me throughout the years: A rabid womanizer named Brad Allen (played by Hudson) shares his philosophical musings about marriage with his best friend, Jonathan Forbes (played by Tony Randall), with the following observation: “Jonathan, before a man gets married, he’s like a tree in the forest. He stands there independent, an entity unto himself. And then he’s chopped down, his branches are cut off, he’s stripped of his bark and he’s thrown into the river with the rest of the logs. Then this tree is taken to the mill. And when it comes out, it’s no longer a tree. It’s the vanity table, the breakfast nook, the baby crib, and the newspaper that lines the family garbage can.”

I admit Allen has a point. Over the years, I’ve met a few such furniture items at the park, Shabbat meals and kids’ birthday parties. I probably am guilty of whittling down a few good men to benches and credenzas. But marriage isn’t supposed to metaphorically chop you into pieces; it’s the biggest growth tool I’ve ever encountered. 

Before I got married, I believed in the harmful stereotype of a nagging wife. I guess I’d watched too many films and TV shows from the ’50s and ’60s. But after I got married, I realized that a woman “nags” because she’s tried nearly every other way of expressing a need or request, short of spray painting a kitchen wall with graffiti that says, “Load the dishwasher cup-side down.”

A few years ago, a friend told me that his wife married him because she thought he could do anything. “After we got married,” he said, “she made me feel like I could do nothing.”

Maybe I go easier on women because we put up with much more than men. That’s why last week’s column was titled, “How a Man Ages a Woman.” But when it comes to how women treat men in male-female marriages, my eyes are open. I see the father who is “wearing” his sleeping baby across his chest and listening as his wife tells him exactly what he did wrong when he changed a diaper that morning; the older man whose wife yells at him to “Sit over there!” at the doctor’s office. When he tries to fill out a medical form, she snatches the pen and paper out of his hand and fills it out herself because she’s more thorough. And then, there’s the father whose teenage daughters scoff at him at every turn because their mother taught them, through years of sighs, eye rolling and disparaging feedback, not to take anything their father says seriously. 

I’m not sure I completely agree with Brad Allen’s analysis. Not all men are sage, independent redwoods before marriage. Some, even those old enough to know better, are still saplings. Others act like sprouts. But for those who are trying hard to be majestic redwoods and oaks for their families, there are many ways that a well-intentioned woman can wear down such good men. Here are a few:

She Judges His Actions and His Intentions 

I always thought the first year of marriage would be divine. And then, garbage struck. I spent my first year of married life angry at my husband for forgetting to take out the garbage. Could I have taken it out myself? Yes. But we had an unspoken division of labor. I should have dealt with the action of piled-up garbage. But I didn’t. Rather than asking, “Can you please take out the garbage right away?” I sat and stewed. I stewed longer than chunks of fatty beef and savory greens in a simmering pot of Persian stew. Here’s the story I told myself: 

“He takes you for granted. You’re a housekeeper, not a wife.” Not exactly healthy and helpful thoughts.  

It took me a year to realize there were no nefarious intentions. My husband had forgotten because when it came to that task, he sometimes forgot. I had assigned devious meaning to his intentions. The only problem? He didn’t even have intentions. Who weaponizes garbage? 

The only puzzle piece I should have worked with was the action. Meanwhile, he never mentioned anything about how much clutter I’d piled up in our home, though he was literally knee-deep in it. I would have been so hurt if he’d assumed I had bad intentions. I only wish I’d given him the same benefit of the doubt. 

She Equates a Lack of Fighting with Showing Affection 

A decade ago, my father made an observation about a family friend: “She’s a very good wife,” he said. “In the years that I’ve known her and her husband, I’ve never once heard her yell at him. They’re truly lovebirds.” I thought carefully about this couple. True, I’d never heard the woman yell at her husband. And then, I realized I’d barely heard this woman talk to her husband. 

She didn’t look at him much. She brought him a cup of coffee and didn’t sit down with him when he invited her to have a seat. When she did address him, it was for utilitarian purposes: “Please put the tray on that shelf” or “I need help with the hose.”

Marriage is messy and beautiful; elevating and infuriating. For the sake of our own dignity as well as that of our partner’s, we should aim to be more like compassionate arborists, rather than cynical lumberjacks.

Every now and then, I convince myself that I treat my husband very well because I don’t yell at him (I reserve most of my yelling for my mother and the United States Postal Service). But recently, I’ve realized that not fighting with a man is not the same as showing him actual affection. Not raising your voice at a man isn’t some sort of gift for which a husband should be thankful; it should be a base-level expectation of decency and respect (from both sides). One way to display affection is to randomly hug your husband a few times a day, even if you don’t feel like it. It’s an ambush hug, rather than an ambush fight.

He Actually Believes He Can’t Do Anything Right 

Nothing startles a man who’s convinced he can’t do anything right more than an ambush hug. He may even ask his wife what he did to deserve it.

A few years ago, a friend told me that his wife married him because she thought he could do anything. “After we got married,” he said, “she made me feel like I could do nothing.”

I never fully appreciated the scope of my capabilities until I got married (and had children). I can work, cook, repair, organize, plan, host, schedule, reschedule, and remember the exact location of the pliers I bought seven years ago to remove a spoon from the garbage disposal. But do you know the one thing I can do better than almost anything else in my home? Make sure my husband internalizes that he can’t do anything right.

Marriage is messy and beautiful; elevating and infuriating. For the sake of our own dignity as well as that of our partner’s, we should aim to be more like compassionate arborists, rather than cynical lumberjacks. I know my capacity to build, but I also know my capacity to destroy, and I don’t want to be married to the world’s greatest armoire.

Tabby Refael is a Los Angeles-based writer, speaker, and civic action activist. Follow her on Twitter @RefaelTabby