Our Destinies are Intertwined: to Save the Hostages, We Must Save Gaza

I first want to acknowledge that this reflection may be controversial. It certainly is vulnerable. I’m exploring not only my feelings but lessons I have learned in community organizing with regard to power and self-interest. It’s uncomfortable to consider one’s own self-interest and the power inherent within it, but I feel like I must.

Today is Tisha B’Av, a day in the Jewish calendar when we grieve and reflect on destruction and devastation. Even without this holiday, today would already be filled with grief and devastation. The news of children starving in Gaza. The reports of settler violence and murder of Palestinians in the West Bank. The recent horrifying video of Evyatar David, a hostage in Gaza, forced to dig his own grave as he too is slowly dying of starvation.

On Tisha B’Av we read from the Book of Lamentations, a reflection on the despair following the destruction of the Temple. We read haunting reflections which could have been written by people in Gaza: “Better off were those slain by sword than those slain by famine, who pined away, wounded, for lack of fruits of the field.” (Lamentations 4:9)

Last week I participated in an action with 26 other Jewish clergy calling for food aid for Gaza. In a couple comments in response to our demonstration, people asked, “What about the hostages?”

These comments are meant to take attention away from Palestinians rather than bring attention to the Israelis still held captive in Gaza. I know this for two reasons:

1. Every action I’ve been a part of which highlights Palestinian suffering (whether letter or demonstration) has mentioned the hostages. This recent action likewise mentioned the hostages, as anyone who watched the livestream would see.

2. The hostages are being held in Gaza, and therefore are subject to all the atrocities the people in Gaza are experiencing. Falling bombs may kill hostages. Widespread famine may kill hostages. The fate of the hostages are tied up with the fate of the people of Gaza. We cannot claim to care about the hostages and then support actions which directly put their lives in danger.

We have learned after 22 months of fighting that ceasefire deals are more likely to bring back our hostages than military force. And yet the violence continues.

I saw a comment the other day that made me feel physically ill. After claiming to support the war in order to save the hostages, an individual was questioned about the possibility that the war might be what kills the hostages. This individual then went on to say that THESE hostages may die, but by dismantling Hamas we are preventing FUTURE hostages.

Forget for a moment that this is illogical — we cannot dismantle an ideology through death, even if we kill all living Hamas members, we only give motivation for more to join in vengeance — and just consider this sacrifice of our people that this individual was willing to make. Would he have said the same if it was his child held hostage? How could he so easily turn his back on those who are suffering? I am ashamed to say this individual was a rabbi.

Sometimes I am accused of not caring about the hostages. That could not be further from the truth. I have family and friends in Israel. I have lived in Israel. Their suffering haunts me. I understand deeply that it could have been my relative, could have been me.

Sometimes I am accused of caring more about Palestinians than my own people. I try to care about all peoples — and I find myself especially caring about Palestinians because I have Palestinian friends, and because I feel responsible for their suffering — but if anything, I am concerned that the opposite is true: that at least part of my motivation for caring about Palestinians is primary concern for my people, those in Israel and Jews around the world. Their suffering will directly impact us. The more unsafe they are, the more unsafe we will be. Peace for them is the only way we can have peace for ourselves. Our destinies are intertwined.

I wish I could be more objective. I wish I could care for all peoples equally. I do try. But I’m not sure it’s possible, at least for me. My heart is tied up with my family. Those within my inner circle will always come first. I fear it’s an innate, evolutionary drive, and I am only human. So please don’t think my deep concern for Gaza and Palestinians means I’ve turned my back on my people — when in fact, it is how I am trying to protect them. Yes, I care about Palestinian suffering — how could I not? But I also have a deep drive and desire to see my people safe.

In truth, my activism is selfish in that way. But I am using the power of self-preservation to hopefully make a positive difference in the world. Self-interest is a key component to justice work. We all need to find something that serves both us and others, and to use the motivation of self-interest to help others. Our destinies are intertwined.

In addition to the bodily concern for life, there is also the spiritual concern for the soul. We are not only risking our lives with this never-ending violence, but the very essence of our beings. The reports of IDF soldiers committing suicide because they could not live with their actions should equally haunt us. Even if we don’t care that we are hurting others, we should care that we are hurting ourselves.

We can and should care about others. It’s not that I don’t care about others. I sometimes feel like my heart holds so many inside it that it’s too full to fit in my chest. And yet, caring for others doesn’t mean we don’t care about our own. In fact, sometimes care for ourselves and our own is the best tool to care for others. It is not selfish to use the power we have. But it also isn’t selfless to highlight others’ suffering. Our destinies are intertwined.

We must end the suffering in Gaza. For their sake and our own.