For more than 25 years, the Tel Aviv Pride Parade has brought together people from all over the world in a demonstration of tolerance and shared humanity unique in the Middle East. Last year, more than 200,000 people participated; since 2019, Tel Aviv Pride has been the largest in Asia.
Because of the war, and the almost singular focus of Israeli citizens on bringing the hostages home, the organizers of Tel Aviv Pride decided to cancel this year’s parade — but they did not cancel Pride. In a beautiful fashion, Tel Aviv found a way to demonstrate its ongoing commitment to LGBTQ+ inclusion even in this painful time. Last night, the city held a “Pride and Hope Assembly” with a focus on remembering those murdered on Oct. 7, as well as all those who have fallen since. It also included an opportunity to offer prayers for those still held in captivity in Gaza. A special flag was created for this moment that expands the yellow band of the rainbow in honor of the hostages. (We have made our own version of this same flag which I plan to carry as part of the Jewish contingent of the L.A. Pride Parade on Sunday.)
One of the most meaningful and heart-wrenching moments at Pride in Israel this year so far took place at the Jerusalem event held last Thursday. Among the speakers was Omer Ohana, the bereaved fiancé of slain soldier Maj. Sagi Golan who was killed fighting Hamas terrorists on Oct. 7. At first, the law did not recognize Ohana as a bereaved family member after Golan’s death; his advocacy and efforts led Defense Minister Yoav Gallant to amend the IDF policy to include same-sex couples. What a beautiful example of how we can make progress toward inclusion, even in our most difficult moments. It’s a story that should be told to demonstrate just how much Israel, alone in the Middle East, embodies the values that college students on campuses across this country who purport to care about justice should embrace.
At a time when Israel is being vilified and demonized in the most insidious and antisemitic fashion, we should be especially proud of the ways in which it is truly a beacon of tolerance and inclusion not just in the Middle East but throughout the world.
At a time when Israel is being vilified and demonized in the most insidious and antisemitic fashion, we should be especially proud of the ways in which it is truly a beacon of tolerance and inclusion not just in the Middle East but throughout the world. In a time of identity politics and zero-sum thinking about empathy, we should be proud of how the organizers of the Tel Aviv assembly sought to connect efforts around inclusion with concern for the hostages. And in a time when some voices in the LGBTQ+ community wish to exclude Jewish participation in misguided attempts to demonize Israel, we should refuse to cede these spaces or give up values we cherish in the face of such bigotry and hatred.
I think especially about Sagi Golan’s sacrifice when I read one of the opening lines of this week’s Torah portion where Moses is commanded to count the number of Israelites eligible for army service:
“Take a census of the whole Israelite community …” (Numbers 1:2)
The Hebrew idiom for taking a census is instructive. It literally tells us to “lift up the head of every Israelite.” It reminds us that every person counts.
Rabbi Yoshi Zweiback is the Senior Rabbi of Stephen Wise Temple in Los Angeles, California.
With high schools on summer break, college is on the mind of many of their students.
Rising high school seniors will be obsessing during the next few months about finding the perfect college fit, while those who just graduated will be anticipating their move to college with a mixture of excitement and anxiety. Selecting a college has always been about figuring out where students are most likely to thrive.But with campuses ablaze with antisemitism, the stakes for Jewish students seem to be higher than ever.
As a longtime professor and administrator, I have been asked over and over again if I have any advice to share.
For what it is worth, here it is:
If you are deciding where to apply, I would not shy away from those schools that have recently been pilloried in the news.The coverage of the vitriol in the encampments might understandably give you (and your parents) pause, but remember that students come and go, and so do college “leaders.”Has it been really ugly, for example, at our local schools, UCLA and USC?Sure.But they are among the most prestigious universities in the world, and to dismiss them out of hand as potential choices would be a mistake.A small percentage of students have soiled their colleges’ reputations with their intimidating behavior and outrageous demands, urged on by faculty and staff enablers and by outside agitators.The rest are either peacefully exercising their right to free speech, or simply going about the business of education the best they can.
It would be unwise to eliminate schools based on the activities of some out-of-control students and spineless administrators who refuse to hold them accountable for their words and actions.
If you cross out those two schools from your search list, where do you stop?At last count, 123 colleges and universities have had encampments. You might as well drop Columbia and Penn, Harvard and Dartmouth, Pomona and Brown, Rutgers and Indiana, Michigan and Texas, and more than a hundred more.Take a close look at Brandeis – it is a wonderful institution with a proud Jewish heritage – but it would be unwise to eliminate schools based on the activities of some out-of-control students and spineless administrators who refuse to hold them accountable for their words and actions.
What about when you arrive on campus?College is a time to reinvent yourself, to stretch intellectually, to rediscover the joys of learning, to gain the humility and the tools to educate yourself for a lifetime, to make enduring friendships, and yes, to have fun. For more than a decade I welcomed Jewish students at Northwestern’s Hillel during move-in days. I reminded them that they were not in school to represent the Jewish people, to defend Israel’s right to exist, or to otherwise carry the burden of educating others about our faith.That was true prior to Oct.7, and remains true today.
But should you do so – and G-d bless you for trying – don’t be naïve.Be aware of the myriad traps that await you. My experience as a student, parent and educator suggests that the ideal place to grapple with the challenging issues relating to your Jewish identity is not at a public forum or in the dining halls – it is when you are among your fellow Jews. Hillels and other Jewish organizations provide space for vigorous debate in front of friends.Arguing within the broader college community can be an exceedingly risky proposition. It is a terrible thing to be cancelled, and it is particularly painful should it happen to you in your dorm.
And be sure to select your classes carefully, especially if they are in academic disciplines that are hotbeds for what passes these days as “progressive” thinking.The vast majority of faculty teach their subjects with pride and integrity.But not all.Every school has professors who are more interested in indoctrination than in education.And a frequent target is the Jewish state.That is another reason to spend time at Hillel – students know which faculty and courses to avoid.
This is not meant to suggest that you hide your Jewishness or turn a blind eye when confronted with ignorance and hate.But recognize that the personal stakes are high, and choose your spots with great care.
And if your college experience results in your being more aware of the ever-present hostility that Jews face, that is a life lesson that should, alas, serve you all too well following graduation.
Morton Schapiro is the former president of Williams College and Northwestern University.His most recent book (with Gary Saul Morson) is “Minds Wide Shut:How the New Fundamentalisms Divide Us.”
The other day, my car stopped working. I panicked, thinking, “Is this going to be an easy fix? Will it be expensive? How am I going to get to my office tomorrow?”
My husband Daniel wasn’t as anxious as I was. Instead, he contacted Chaverim, a local volunteer group in the Jewish community that shows up if you’re having car troubles or any other issues. Within an hour, a volunteer came to our home, worked in the dark and got my car back up and running again. He wouldn’t accept payment, and only encouraged us to donate to the organization – which we gladly did.
This was not an unusual situation; these kinds of miraculous things happen all the time when you live in a Jewish community.
Take, for instance, the morning that I couldn’t find my car keys. I’d searched my house for over an hour but found nothing. My daughter’s teachers were texting me and asking me where she was since I was very late for school drop-off. I also had to get to work. My face turned red, and tears formed in my eyes as I typed into a local WhatsApp group, “Can someone please help me take my daughter to school right now?”
Just a few minutes later, a lovely single mom in our community, who I knew was incredibly busy with her own children, picked up me and my daughter, took her to school and then dropped me back at home, reassuring me in a calming tone that everything would be OK. And then, after saying the Rabbi Meir Baal Haness prayer for lost objects like she recommended, I found my keys under the dog bowl.
There was also the horrible day that we got robbed and Daniel fought off the robber. We were shaken up after a thief stole $25,000 worth of work equipment from us and showed up back at our home, where Daniel chased him away. But not only that — we called the police, and after waiting for over an hour, they still hadn’t arrived. I got in touch with Magen Am USA, a security nonprofit in the Jewish community, and the leader of it, Rabbi Yossi Eilfort, promptly came to our house and contacted the local authorities himself. They arrived within minutes, and we were able to get a police report written up.
There are countless examples of the ways in which our community has showed up for us. That’s the beauty of living in a Jewish community.
When Daniel and I moved from New York to Los Angeles in 2012, we weren’t yet observant — heck, I wasn’t even Jewish yet — and we didn’t know many people here. We didn’t join the Jewish community right away, instead going to comedy shows and focusing on Daniel’s stand-up career. It felt like we were just floating around L.A., aimless, without any support. We both quickly became disheartened by it and wanted to leave.
But once we met people in the Jewish community, found synagogues we liked and went to friends’ homes for Shabbat dinner, we began to feel like part of one big family. I really felt it when so many people contributed to making our wedding special, from our friend who offered to bartend for free to another who picked up tablecloths the day of because we miscalculated the number we needed. When we had kids, friends and strangers alike signed up for our Meal Train and fed us every night for a month straight. After the robbery, when I got sick with strep, a bunch of women showed up at my house with homemade food for Shabbat.
Being part of the community, we’ve had the chance to give back as well. We sign up for Meal Trains whenever we can. We host events and invite people over for Shabbat. We donate to local organizations, and we do our best to lend a hand when someone is in need.
Being part of the community, we’ve had the chance to give back as well. We sign up for Meal Trains whenever we can. We host events and invite people over for Shabbat. We donate to local organizations, and we do our best to lend a hand when someone is in need.
The bottom line? I am so grateful to be part of a Jewish community that is filled with kindness, fueled by love and beautiful in every single way.
Kylie Ora Lobell is the Community Editor of the Jewish Journal. You can find Kylie on X @KylieOraLobell or Instagram @KylieOraWriter.
That was my initial, gut-driven thought when Shabbat lunch guests at our home informed me that Israel had miraculously rescued four hostages from the Nuseirat refugee camp.
Yes, we needed this news, lest we forget that eight months ago, the serenity of both our beloved Shabbat and our joyful Simchat Torah were both hideously shattered when news of Oct. 7 spread at thousands of synagogues and in millions of Jewish homes.
And lest we also forget, news of a crazed gunman who, for 11 hours, held four people hostage at Congregation Beth Israel in Colleyville, Texas also broke during Shabbat in January 2022. Four years earlier, during a Shabbat in October 2018, Jews were horrified to learn that 11 people were murdered at the Tree of Life synagogue in the Squirrel Hill neighborhood of Pittsburgh.
The list never ends, including anxious Jews worldwide learning that Israel was facing near-annihilation as they prayed solemnly in synagogues during Yom Kippur services in 1973, to say nothing of the somber tone of Shabbat services worldwide during the Holocaust and World War II.
My second response upon hearing the joyous news related to the four hostages appeared in the form of a question. Why, I asked myself, must Jewish history and Jewish existence itself always include broken glass?
I wasn’t referring to the broken glass of the devastating Kristallnacht or pogrom variety; that is, sadly, a given. I was referring to the broken glass beneath the wedding chuppah, a pristine, whole vessel that is shattered during a celebration marking the most important event in the life of two Jews: a marriage that ensures Jewish continuity.
Mere seconds after the happiest moment in the life of a Jewish couple, the sound of broken glass is meant to remind them of the ancient destruction of Jerusalem and the fall of the holy Jewish temples that resulted in the painful exile we know today.
Some of the happiest moments in Jewish history have also included broken glass. Even the 1976 rescue at Entebbe, one of the greatest Jewish miracles of the last century, was tempered by the terrible loss of Lt. Col. Yoni Netanyahu, one of the finest and bravest military officers in Jewish history.
Last Shabbat, our joyous chuppah moment arrived with the safety and return of Noa Argamani, Shlomi Ziv, Andrey Kozlov, and Almog Meir Jan. But our shattered glass, never to be replaced, was the loss of Lt. Col. Arnon Zamora, who gave his life to rescue the hostages. Zamora, z”l, leaves behind a wife and two children.
Several seconds after I rejoiced at the release of the hostages, I wept for the loss of a young husband and father. How can anyone hold space for such unbelievably different emotional states — rejoicing and sorrow; gratitude and grief? I suppose it is all in a day of being a Jew.
I reveled in the amazing news until Shabbat ended and I read the headlines: “Israel rescues hostages from Gaza, leaving trail of death and destruction” (The Washington Post); “Israel’s raid to free hostages takes ‘horrific’ toll on central Gaza” (Financial Times); and the worst headline, “Collateral Genocide in Nuseirat” (Al Jazeera). It was obvious that the world could not and would not believe that the pesky lives of four Jews was worth what it took to save them from the hands of murderous terrorists.
It was also obvious that the world still doesn’t understand that thousands of innocent Palestinians didn’t have to die, and neither did the 1,200 Israelis and the countless IDF soldiers who have perished since last October. Lt. Col. Arnon Zamora, z”l, didn’t have to die. Every single death as a result of Oct. 7 is solely on Hamas, and that includes the innocent Palestinians who died as a result of Israel’s rescue operation last week.
The world could not believe the extent to which Israel would go to save four lives, but Jews didn’t see it that way. As generations of Jews have learned in the Talmud, “Whoever saves a single life is considered by scripture to have saved the whole world” (Sanhedrin 37a).
Many in the West and the Arab world seemed to express horror that an entire country (Israel) was taking to the streets to celebrate four lives. This is another reminder that the Jewish value for life is simply extraordinary.
Many in the West and the Arab world seemed to express horror that an entire country (Israel) was taking to the streets to celebrate four lives. This is another reminder that the Jewish value for life is simply extraordinary.
It also begs a question: Should those who despise Israel the most be allowed to choose if and how Israel rescues its hostages?
Unlike the United States, Israel will not draw certain red lines. President Biden knows that American hostages are being held in Rafah, but he still described an Israeli invasion of Rafah as crossing a red line. As one friend recently told me, “There should never be a red line when it comes to rescuing American hostages. The red line should be NOT doing everything it takes to get them back.”
It is also vital to note the inhumanity of another superpower: China. According to Ynetnews, “Since the early days following Noa Argamani’s abduction from the Nova music festival on Oct. 7, the Israeli Foreign Ministry and the Israeli Embassy in Beijing made numerous attempts to persuade Chinese officials to assist in her release, given her mother’s Chinese heritage.”
The story continued, “Humanitarian pleas went unanswered, and Chinese state media did not report on the abduction of an Israeli-Chinese individual … An Israeli source expressed deep disappointment with Beijing’s handling of the situation, noting the lack of effort to assist and Israel’s encounter with zero empathy.”
The Chinese government refused to help secure the release of Argamani because Chinese officials told their Israeli counterparts, Argamani is “only half Chinese” and “lacked Chinese blood.”
Can you imagine if Israel had not rescued Argamani, with the justification that she “lacked Israeli blood”? And people call Israel inhumane.
Lt. Colonel Arnon Zamora
I believe that each of the four hostages will soon pay a grateful visit to the home of Lt. Col Zamora, z”l. For her part, Zamora’s 33-year-old widow, Michal, recently said, “Everything is filled now with the picture of the hero, Commander Arnon Zamora, of blessed memory. But before he was a warrior and hero, he was a sweet and wonderful man. A fantastic husband and a perfect father. A man who loved and was loved. That’s how we are going to remember him. And I will be happy if you also remember him that way.”
This painful, yet miraculous, year is proof that in Judaism, randomness is a shaky concept. After a remarkable week of both joy and pain, I leave readers with an observation that is being shared widely among traditional Jews, and is anything but random: If we consider the first Hebrew letter in the name of each rescued hostage, Noa, Shlomo, and Andrey and Almog (A), those letters together spell “Naso” — the very name of this week’s Torah portion.
And in a week when a number seemingly small as four means the world to Jews and Israelis, in Hebrew, “Naso” means …“Count.”
May the family of Arnon Zamora, z”l, be comforted among the mourners of Zion and Jerusalem. We will never forget his incredible bravery and sacrifice.
Tabby Refael is an award-winning writer, speaker and weekly columnist for The Jewish Journal of Greater Los Angeles. Follow her on X and Instagram @TabbyRefael.
