On Jan. 11, shortly after the launch of Operation Cast Lead, I joined a rabbinic solidarity mission to southern Israel. The purpose of the trip was threefold: to hear the stories of our brothers and sisters, to offer comfort and prayer, and to affirm our unity with the people of Israel.
Indeed, my journey to Israel was filled with personal stories from the south, with prayer and song, and a renewed commitment to the shared fate and destiny of our people. Shortly after my return to the United States, Israel declared a unilateral cease-fire, which was later affirmed by Hamas’ leadership.
In the weeks and months to come, many in Israel will initiate a process of soul-searching and lesson-learning. As Israel draws conclusions from this most recent war, our community must also engage in a similar process, not as Israelis living in the Jewish state, but rather as American Jews living in Northern California.
By doing so, we will be better prepared to support Israel, be it behind the scenes, in the media, raising funds or increasing community consciousness.
To begin, let me state unequivocally that the tragic devastation that befell the civilians of Gaza must be etched in our hearts and minds. Indeed, in my updates from Israel, I encouraged members of my community to pray for the people of Gaza, even as I recognized the need to point out Hamas’ cynical use of civilians as human shields. The death of innocents in Gaza is heartbreaking, a tragedy for both our peoples.
That being said, the prevalent challenge for our Jewish community does not only lie in acknowledging the suffering of the other side, as important as that is. Rather, our challenge primarily lies in acknowledging, time and time again, without failure, the sufferings of our own Israeli brothers and sisters. While Gaza’s narrative must be told, and it will be, it seems that our community too often neglects to tell the story of our side, in this case, the story told by the people of Sderot and those living in its neighboring communities.
To be clear, Sderot is a symbol beyond the present predicament. According to internal reports, Sderot, once home to approximately 20,000 inhabitants, has seen its population decline by almost 25 percent in recent years. More than 3,000 mortar bombs have been fired at Sderot since September 2005, and more than 30 percent of Sderot’s population suffers from post-traumatic stress.
The 5,000 residents forced out of Sderot (15,000 have stayed because they cannot afford to leave) represent about half the number of Israelis evacuated from Gaza during the disengagement. However, in contrast to the people of Gush Katif (a former bloc of 17 Israeli settlements in southern Gaza), the residents of Sderot are set firmly within Israel’s internationally recognized Green Line.
One would imagine that this alone would stir the heart and soul of our community. Surely, for those who passionately affirm Israel’s right to exist within at least the Green Line, Hamas’ attacks demanded our immediate response of spiritual disgust and moral condemnation.
Where then was our rage, and where then were our prayers?
If we are to look at the past two and a half years, ever since Israel’s disengagement from Gaza, we must ask ourselves who among us raised a voice for Sderot and who among us told the story of the south? Some did, most didn’t. And here, I too bear responsibility for what I consider a personal failure.
Yet if we are to look to the future, with profound hope that such stories will never need to be told again, we must nevertheless ask ourselves: How would we respond differently should such occasion arise?
The narrative of Sderot was glaringly missing in news reports over the last three years and therefore, naturally, during the last five weeks as well. Sadly, it was also glaringly missing from our own institutions and organizations.
What if the 3,000 mortar bombs launched from Gaza resulted in 3,000 civilian deaths in Israel? Would we have remained silent then as well? The answer is clear.
Indeed, as we look to the future, let us remember the words of our prophets: “For the sake of Zion I will not be still.”
Rabbi Yonatan Cohen is the rabbi at Orthodox Congregation Beth Israel in Berkeley. He recently returned from a rabbinic solidarity mission to Israel.