It’s been a Year . . .

It’s been a Year . . .

Last year, during Chol Ha Moed Succot, I went for a jog around the streets of my neighbourhood. Beautiful Spring weather and a tremendous funny podcast – I was happy. As I ran I was approached twice by two different groups of Yeshiva boys holding their Lulav and Etrog, inviting me to say the Bracha. I waved them off. I was mid run – could they not see the athleticism?

I did not know that this was a “BEFORE“ moment. Last year, as I ran at exactly this time, I did not know to appreciate the lightness of my steps and trivial nature of my celebrity podcast.
There was so much I did not know.

I did not know that my beautiful city of Melbourne could show an ugly underbelly of anti-Semitism- loud, scary and angry. That my heart would be broken by this and by so much more.

BEFORE, I did not notice street poles and tram stops. Today on my run, I had to suddenly stop as I passed the faces of hostages, lovingly, desperately staring out at me from a street light pole on a corner. A whole year later. I felt winded.

There is no space for frivolity now in the AFTER as I listen to updates from Israel with each pounding step. I am miles away and yet I’m not. I’m listening to a podcast with horror stories from the Nova Festival as I begin sprinting down the quiet roads of Caulfield out of breath, heart hurting, running for my life. Running from the evil that is now apparent for every Jew, everywhere!

I change pace, I’m listening to beautiful Israeli music – words of prayer, words of hope because that is who we are as a people. I must look deranged as tears stream down my sweaty face. I run and I listen and I weep for the never ending losses – The soldiers whose faces shine out before me alongside the devastating announcement declaring them dead ;

For the many many children whose innocence has been shattered and ripped apart and for whom now life is forever changed by so much trauma;

For the communities of the South and the North of Israel, scattered, bereft and so far from their friends, family, their homes. Immense loss. Ugly tears that won’t stop.

This is the AFTER. It is where we disbelieving, blinking, and tired, find ourselves, one year on.

It is yellow ribbons and hostage pins and rallies and singing together that feel important, and are important, but feel pithy too.

It is all of us looking for a Magen David necklace, or a Chai or a Hamsa to show on our outside what we feel so keenly on the inside. Proud and Jewish. Jewish and proud.

It is being endlessly asked to support Israel through a myriad of causes, each one more worthy, more direct, more important than the last. And we want to give to them all, for in the AFTER we have seen, what we may not have fully understood, that our contributions are an extension of ourselves. Jewish money is not just support – No- it is our Jewish heart open and vulnerable, and where it is not valued or appreciated, it needs to be withdrawn.

It is feeling isolated and afraid, yet more determined and united than ever.

It is full Shules and Jews who did not feel connected suddenly connecting. Am Yisrael Chai! We sing together.

It is discovering sadly, Jews who are self hating and who spew Anti Zionist rhetoric, here in the sadness of the AFTER, making us gasp in horror.

It is increased security and concerns that have never before crossed our minds. Is that University a safe space for my child? Can I support this cafe. . .  restaurant . . .  florist and on and on . . . and on. It is exhausting and frustrating.

It is heavy in the AFTER
We wonder how and when it will be over

In the meantime I run on.

But today
Nearly exactly a year since the BEFORE… I went for my morning run.
I was again approached to say the Bracha on the Lulav and Etrog
I stopped. This time I said the Bracha and chatted with these earnest Yeshiva boys. I held these eternal symbols and I prayed for peace, for an end to this sorrow. For a new AFTER.
Then,
I walked home slowly home.