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Rachel Goldberg doesn’t know if what she’s doing will bring her son Hersh home. But she won’t stop trying.

(JTA) — Several months ago, before she met with the pope and Elon Musk, before her adopted home was thrust into war by a brutal attack, before she became one of the most prominent faces of a hostage crisis, Rachel Goldberg was desperately looking for luggage.
It was March and hundreds of people had flown to Israel for a study program on which Goldberg, who moved with her family from the United States 15 years ago and lives in Jerusalem. was assisting. People were upset: Suitcases weren’t showing up where they were supposed to.
“Rachel was really on it: making phone calls, calling the hotels, calling the buses, connecting with the people, just comforting them, saying, ‘I’m going to find it, we’re on it,’” recalled Rachel Kaufman, a Jewish educator from Los Angeles who was part of the trip. “I witnessed her crying over people being reunited with their luggage.”
Kaufman thought about that experience when she learned that Goldberg’s son, Hersh Goldberg-Polin, 23, had been taken hostage on Oct. 7 from the music festival he had been attending with a friend. If Goldberg could be so sensitive to the pain of others over something as inconsequential as luggage, how much more deeply must she be feeling her son’s absence?
Goldberg has answered that question every day, sometimes more than a dozen times, since Oct. 7, as she has become one of the most visible advocates, particularly in English, for Israel’s hostages in Gaza. Every morning, she tapes a number to her shirt signifying the number of days since Oct. 7 — Friday was 70 — and then, with a mixture of warmth and sadness and steely determination, spends the rest of her time telling the world about Hersh.
In the New York Times, five days after he was taken, she described Hersh as “gentle and kind and always finding creative ways to improve things and connect with other human beings.” She spoke to CNN’s Anderson Cooper, who was the first to show her video showing that Hersh’s arm had been blown off, but that he was alive when he was loaded onto a Hamas pickup truck and taken to Gaza. She and her husband Jon Polin were featured on the cover of Time magazine.
Rachel Goldberg and Jon Polin posed with pictures of their son Hersh on the cover of Time Magazine in November 2023. (Screenshot)
Since Oct. 7, she has addressed hundreds of thousands of U.S. Jews at a march in Washington, D.C.; the pope, whom she visited at the Vatican; and countless others on social media and at rallies in the United States, Israel and beyond.
And yet even as the quest to save her son has fully occupied her for more than two months, Goldberg remembers that moment with the luggage. She recalled in an interview this week that the missing suitcase contained an irreplaceable item, a set of family tefillin. The reunion with its owner came after Goldberg and others gave tzedakah, charity, in the name of a second-century Jewish sage.
“You can ask Rabbi Meir Baal Haness to return anything that is lost and your plea will never go unanswered,” Goldberg said. Tradition holds that the power is especially assured on the first day of the Jewish month of Tevet, which began this week.
“We did that tradition on Rosh Chodesh Tevet for the return of our lost object named Hersh ben Perel Hana veYonatan Shimshon; we gave tzedakah in his name,” Goldberg said, using her son’s traditional Hebrew name. “I am waiting for the return of my beautiful lost object named Hersh.”
Goldberg spoke to the Jewish Telegraphic Agency on Thursday, as Israel tamped down hopes about a truce deal that could allow the release of additional hostages and as news emerged about the deaths of three hostages in captivity. It was one day before Israel killed three hostages in Gaza after mistaking them for Hamas terrorists.
This interview has been lightly edited for length and clarity.
It’s been 69 days since Hersh was captured. How are you and your family doing now?
It’s not describable how any of us are doing to people who haven’t been through it. Thank God not many people have been through what we, the hostage families, are going through. We get up every morning and we have to pretend to be people. Because in order to save them we have to function. And in order to function, you have to pretend to be a person. So that’s what we do. But for me, I feel like 69 days ago, someone tore my heart out and took it away. I’m walking through this life in this very artificial way. Just trying to do the best that I can so that I can function enough to be able to be productive in trying to save my son’s life.
Rachel Goldberg speaks during the “March For Israel” at the National Mall in Washington, D.C., Nov. 14, 2023. (Photo by Noam Galai/Getty Images)
You’ve become this huge inspiration for people all over the world, especially for women. How does that sit with you?
I think that a lot of people try very hard to empathize or sympathize with us. And that’s what speaks to them. This story is very universal, people right away can say, what if that was my son, my daughter, my mother, my husband, and people right away, connect with the suffering that we’re going through. And we appreciate it. We appreciate that people from all over the world have reached out to us people from all different religions and all different backgrounds. And it is helpful during this time when, when it’s sometimes a struggle to get through the next hour, sometimes it’s a struggle to get through the next 15 minutes and sometimes there’s just like a moment where it’s unbearable. So all of that support — we feel it and we appreciate it.
Can you speak a little more about those moments of struggle? Where does your mind go? What happens? How do you get out of it?
From the very first day, it’s been a slow-motion terror. You know sometimes you get a fright when you come around a corner and you didn’t know someone was there and you have that moment where you jump back and you’re like, oh my gosh, and your heart is pumping in your chest. I didn’t know it was sustainable. But it has been endless.
Rachel Goldberg, the mother of Hersh Goldberg-Polin, 23, who was kidnapped to Gaza, speaks at a rally for the return of the hostages in Jerusalem, Nov. 4, 2023.(Yahel Gazit/Middle East Images/AFP via Getty Images)
People who hug me — and I don’t really like that, necessarily, at this time — everybody comments, “Oh my god, your heart is beating out of your chest.” Everyone who comes chest to chest with me can feel it. It’s a constant. Before this, I used to be very active. I used to exercise every day except Shabbat. Now, I haven’t done a thing in 69 days, but my heart is racing like a rabbit at all times. So it’s being in a state of constant fear. Which is hard to manage. And that’s just what all of us are going through.
And I think what really made it much worse was last Tuesday when the war cabinet had a session where they had hostage families. Hearing the testimony from the released hostages made it so that everyone went into anguished panic on overdrive of hearing about the torture, the starvation, the conditions, the trauma that the hostages are going through that, when we think about that, it’s almost truly unendurable. All of this has been unendurable so it’s like another level of excruciation.
Do you know anything about the conditions he’s in?
To be honest, I try not to think about how he’s being held. It’s not helpful to me and it’s not helpful to him. Because if I’m devastated, if I’m terrified, I can’t be as high-functioning and as effective as I am. I’m praying for him all day long. And in my quiet moments, I’m always talking to him and I’m always saying the mantra, I love you, stay strong, survive. I love you, stay strong, survive. I’m always singing the different songs that we would sing. That helps me get through.
A protester holds a poster with a photo of 23-year-old U.S.-Israeli Hersh Goldberg-Polin as people gather with signs calling for the release of hostages held by Hamas since Oct. 7, during a rally in Tel Aviv, October 28, 2023. (Jack Guez/AFP via Getty Images)
It’s Hanukkah now. If you had to paint an ideal picture of next Hanukkah, how would that look?
Oh, gosh, well, I would love for him to come home really soon and have the time to recover in every way, to get the treatment he would need in every way, not just a new arm but all the trauma, emotional and psychological and spiritual trauma, that all of these hostages have been going through. I’d love for him to get every single thing he needs and I would love for him to be on his trip next Hanukkah. He has a ticket in a couple of weeks on December 27 for India and he was going to be traveling for one to two years around the world, which he’s been planning and dreaming of since he was in first grade with detailed maps and detailed plans, by himself. So I certainly hope that he’ll be able to take that trip and you know what, you don’t need two arms to travel the world.
What would you like Israel to be doing right now?
I thought that what happened two weeks ago with the pause was an excellent framework to return to. The people in Gaza are suffering horribly. The Gazan civilians are suffering horribly, in every way. I thought having humanitarian aid let in for them was crucial. Getting some of our hostages out was crucial. And even though those negotiations were held together by a very thin, fragile thread, they were successful. They showed us that we have the ability to do that — everyone at that table had the ability to execute that, and all sides benefited. I would love to see that happen again.
How did you react to the reports that the war cabinet stopped the head of the Mossad David Barnea from traveling to Qatar to negotiate another hostage deal?
We were devastated. We’re feeling such despair. Despair that, to be honest, I don’t know that anyone in the war cabinet can really picture because I don’t think that anybody who hasn’t been in our shoes can really truly feel the agony that we are experiencing.
We have to be open to just hearing what’s out there. We have to be open to just sitting at the table. That’s why we elect leaders so that they could be our representatives — in good and bad. We know that our loved ones are being held in brutal conditions. We now have heard from the hostages who were released that there’s torture, starvation and there’s bombing going on. Time is completely not on our side. So to hear that our cabinet didn’t want to just even entertain hearing an option is, for all of us who think that each hour is another hour that maybe our loved one is actually dying, is devastating. It is terrifying for all of us.
There have been reports that Egypt has been approached to possibly broker a hostage negotiation. What are your thoughts on that?
I would love for something like that to happen. I think Egyptians have always been right there trying to help and are very reliable partners, actually. So I would love to see Egypt be more involved. Qatar has been obviously a really helpful partner during this time. At the end of the day, I’m not a politician. I’m not a military strategist. I am a mom of a civilian who was taken in a very aggressive way from a very neutral place from a music festival. And I want him back.
In your quest, you’ve met and spoken with some of the most influential people: the pope, Elon Musk and President Biden. What has that been like?
I felt very lucky and privileged to get to meet the pope. He’s such a meaningful, influential figure in the world, not just to Catholics. I’ve been feeling this really painful approach to humanity since October 7, this feeling that humans had failed. We have this cognitive dissonance between who we think humans are and who we really are and I was really losing my hope in humanity. He was the one who actually said to me, ‘What you have all been through is true terrorism, and terrorism is the lack of humanity.’ And all of a sudden, it was like I had this switch where I realized, Oh, OK, so what we’ve experienced was the lack of humanity. It wasn’t that humans aren’t good. It’s that this was a moment where humanity wasn’t present.
I found him to be very comforting and I thought he was also very fair that when we left 15 minutes later, he had a group of Palestinians come in, and I think that that’s important.
President Biden and [U.S. Secretary of State] Anthony Blinken have both been from the very first week in touch with us and been not just sympathetic and not just empathetic, but very much anguished and motivated to try their best. We feel that.
With Elon Musk, first of all, you have to understand that I haven’t watched news in 69 days. I respect that he took the time to come here. He said, I want to understand what is happening. Because he was seeing one side. I understand that the world sees all these horrible images coming out of Gaza. They are horrible. I also feel tremendous pain and anguish seeing those images of innocent children in rubble. When he was here, Elon Musk saw the 47-minute reel [that Israel produced of Oct. 7 footage]. Most of those images were taken by Hamas themselves. It was very powerful for him.
I showed him that video of Hersh with his arm blown off getting loaded onto that truck at gunpoint. He seemed very moved and very concerned and listened to everyone’s stories.
I’m asked to speak in different places where I would never have been speaking before and I just wonder if it’s helping, if it’s doing anything in the world. If it’s helping the hostages, if it’s helping Hersh. I have no idea.
On that point, you’ve said in an interview that you go to bed at night and think this is like the myth of Sisyphus. Is there a point where you say, well, I’m not going to push this rock up the hill anymore?
It hasn’t happened yet. And I do wonder to myself is there going to be a day where I wake up and say, forget it. I don’t think so. Because I think this is such a finely motivated instinct of saving my child. So much of this is like an animalistic, primal, innate response to danger of my offspring. I do wake up each morning and I say this prayer that is traditional to say before you get out of bed. And I say, ‘OK, Hersh, stay strong, survive, I’m going to get you.’ And I get out of bed and do it all again. Often I’ll say to myself, stay strong, survive, because I need to have the strength to keep fighting. It’s like a marathon that never ends, but it’s a marathon. Actually, Ruby [Chen], one of the other hostages’ dad, said it’s a marathon you have to sprint through. It’s like the worst of both types of endurance test.
How do you draw strength from your faith? Do you have moments of total despair? I’ve witnessed some of the family members of other hostages screaming at God.
Oh yes. But that’s part of a relationship with God. So I actually think it’s really healthy. When I’m screaming at God, it shows I believe in this idea of God. If I didn’t, then I wouldn’t be screaming. I pray every day. I’ve been doing this for years, that predates October 7. I definitely am calling out when I’m praying, I’m praying like this [gestures skyward]. My hands are up in the air. I am in dialogue. I am definitely shouting and I think that that is a sign of a relationship. I say Psalms all day and some of them are just so relevant in terms of saying, ‘Stop turning your face away from me. I want you to answer me now.’ It’s real desperation. And that’s relevant.
There’s the Psalm about the joy that we’re going to experience when the captives return to Zion, which is just beautiful and relevant and so spot on. And there’s ones where David is calling out from inside the darkness of the cave, saying, get me out of here. And when I say that, I say I’m saying it in the name of my son, and I say it for him as if it’s him calling up from the darkness of the cave. I draw tremendous strength from that.
I think it’d be much harder if I didn’t have my faith as a crutch to help me through this.
What have you learned about yourself, and about your husband Jon and your daughters during all this, and also about Hersh?
About Jon, I thank God he’s my partner. He’s just an unbelievable fighter. smart, creative, sharp. Relentless. I don’t know what other partner I could get through this with. And we’re so respectful of each other through this time of excruciating tribulation. I actually have been impressed with the [girls’] resilience.
Jonathan Polin, 53, from left, Rachel Goldberg, 53, recount their last interactions with their missing son Hersh Goldberg-Polin, 23, who went missing after Hamas launched a surprise attack and breached Israeli borders, taking hostages, while family members and friends show up to support them at their home in Jerusalem, Oct. 10, 2023. (Marcus Yam / Los Angeles Times via Getty Images)
About myself: I never would have thought I could have endured what I’ve been enduring. Never. I’m not a particularly strong person pre-October 7, and I’m a really emotional person. I was the one who would cry during the Kodak commercial. Of course I have a lot of emotional times now, but I’m walking one foot in front of the other and trying to do what I need to do so that you can save them before it’s too late.
About Hersh — what’s so interesting to me, and I think about it a lot, is that my love for him has continued to grow and develop in his absence. Which makes sense, but it’s not something I was ever aware of before, when he traveled or when he went to camp or whatever it is. I was never cognizant of that before. Now, I’m so much more aware when I wake up. It’s like, I love him more than I did yesterday. And the relationship that I have with him is still developing. I’m aware of that and maybe part of that is because I’m talking to him a lot more because I talk to him all day long.
When I was in Rome, after meeting the pope, I was sitting in a room and they don’t really speak a lot of English there. So there was a room filled with a lot of Italian and I was sitting there and someone said, ‘you seem so calm, like you’ve been sitting here for 20 minutes, you haven’t moved,’ and I thought, I’ve been talking to Hersh this whole time.
Is there something that you feel that you need from the world right now? And American Jews specifically?
We have felt tremendous support from the American Jewish population. The truth is, we felt that from the Jewish community all over the world.
I think that calling every single day to the White House is still critical, critical, critical. And people can also call their local elected officials if that’s what they prefer. We have this website One Min A Day which makes it super easy, you can just click in your zip code, and it will show you your local elected officials. If you prefer to send a text you can. I think calling is more important. We do have a text for people to use if they’re not comfortable winging it, but it’s a 20-second message: “Hi, it’s day 69. We still have eight Americans in Gaza. Unacceptable. And 122 others.” I do think that everyone can call every single day. First of all, you can feel when you go through the day that you have done something and I think in helpless situations in life, to know that even if it’s just one minute, but you’ve done something, and it’s a minute and you did it and it’s doable, and it’s ritualized. Just do it when you first get up or whatever it is. So I think that’s really important.
I think that trying to universalize the message of the hostages is something we’re trying to really push. These are not just Israeli Jews being held. These are people from many different nations. The [hostage] who has diabetes and needs his meds — he may not even still be alive. He’s a Muslim Arab. That should be hanging outside of a synagogue, or a mosque or a church. It shouldn’t be a Jewish issue. This is a human issue, and we need to universalize the hostage situation in order to get that to stay on people’s minds.
But even the situation of the hostages became politicized, as you know, with posters being torn down. And now the international community’s attitude towards Israel is shifting as the numbers of deaths rise in Gaza. What are your reflections on that?
I understand that. I understand that when thousands of civilians are being killed, the world is not going to be comfortable with that. I’m not comfortable with that. I don’t think anyone here is comfortable with that. These are not intended outcomes. And this is what I talked about at the UN and in New York. The terrible thing about any war is that we know that the people who suffer the most are the innocent, are the civilians. I understand the frustration. I feel that, too.
In your speech to the United Nations this week, you mentioned a poem you wrote to a Gazan woman called “One Tiny Seed.” Can you tell us more about that?
I don’t sleep a lot anymore. In the middle of the night, I often write — I’ve never been a writer, and I’m not a great writer. But I find that I can kind of write poetry because it’s more forgiving. I don’t even know if that was a poem. It was a musing.
I think we’re just going to have to take a lot of risks if we want to have any sort of future in this world. Our weapons are so sophisticated, our danger level is so sophisticated, the anger is so ingrained. Pain is so deep. And we’re going to have to make a real choice to decide, do we want to figure out how we live together and it will be scary, and it will require giving up on things that we hold to be very dear to us in order to live, or are we going to say, OK, you know what, we’re not willing and this is the beginning of the end. I think we’re just really at a crossroads.
I know there must be a woman in Gaza, who’s just like me, who has a son just like mine, and I pray that she’s taking care of my son. And I know there are women in Gaza who are exactly my age and look just like me and have kids just like mine. And you know, I really was speaking to that woman saying, can we take bigger chances together, even though that tiny seed would be wrapped in so much pain and so much fear.
There was talk about some of the hostages in need of urgent medical care being released. Has anyone talked to you about that?
We totally agreed that women and children and babies should certainly have been released first so that was not an issue for us. We know that there were some families [of hostages] who felt very strongly that you don’t do “selectzia” [selection] and that people are people and it shouldn’t matter. We didn’t feel that for whatever reason. I’m not faulting them. We did say at some point we do think that the critically maimed, wounded should [be prioritized]. Hersh will be disabled for the rest of his life. He will, God willing, come home and he will live the rest of his life without an arm and it’s his dominant arm. I’m sure it is tremendously difficult for him because we don’t know what kind of treatment if any, he had, I don’t know what kind of antibiotics if any, he has, I’m sure he’s getting no pain medication. There’s no clean water. A lot of the hostages released said that in the 50 days of captivity, they never once took a shower. So you can imagine as a mother thinking of this child who has an explosive amputation of a limb, not having access to having it cleaned, is terrifying.
We definitely hope and pray that if there was any talk of releasing people who are in a humanitarian, critically wounded condition — irrespective of their age — we would like that as one huge category.
Thank you for speaking to me. I pray that we’ll see Hersh and the others home soon.
Please keep praying, we really believe in it. You know what, you can talk to him too. The more people that are talking to him, I think he’ll hear. Who knows which of us he can hear?
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The post Rachel Goldberg doesn’t know if what she’s doing will bring her son Hersh home. But she won’t stop trying. appeared first on Jewish Telegraphic Agency.
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Do We Have the Courage to Follow the New Route Home?
One of ancient Greece’s earliest philosophers, Heraclitus, is recorded as having said: “There is nothing permanent except change.” Along the same lines, he stated: “No man ever steps in the same river twice.”
The sentiment of this ancient wisdom is simple – those who stay in the same place and never embrace new realities are doomed to disaster.
There are numerous examples from history of those who refused to change when catastrophe loomed. But far more refreshing are those who understood, when faced with disaster, that a correction was needed, sometimes urgently.
One famous example is the sixteenth-century Dutch leader, William of Orange. In 1566, William faced an impossible choice. The king of Spain, Philip II, was tightening his iron grip on the Low Countries – crushing religious freedom and centralizing power in ways that had never been attempted before. The old system – accepting foreign rule while hoping for gradual reform – had failed spectacularly.
William could have clung to the familiar, doubling down on diplomatic appeals and hoping for the best. But instinctively, he knew that this wouldn’t work out well. Instead, he did something revolutionary: he acknowledged that the old route wasn’t working and opted to change course.
The Dutch Revolt that followed could be viewed as a military campaign, but actually it was much more than that: it was a complete reimagining of what could be and how that could be achieved. William became the first Stadtholder of what would become the Dutch Republic, creating a new model that bore little resemblance to the monarchical systems that had preceded it.
The change was radical, and initially it was both uncomfortable and uncertain. But it worked – because William and his supporters dared to honestly assess what wasn’t working and make the necessary adjustments until they got it right. What followed was a century of prosperity, known as the Dutch Golden Age.
This willingness to recalculate in the face of potential failure isn’t merely a political strategy – it’s a fundamental principle of how progress can proceed. And nowhere is this principle more beautifully illustrated than in Parshas Devarim.
Modern technology has given us an unexpected teacher in resilience. When you set your GPS to a destination, it sets your course – but inevitably, you will make a mistake and take a wrong turn. Without a fuss, your GPS will recalculate, offering you a new route to your destination. There’s no judgment, and no disappointment.
Occasionally, the GPS will try to send you back to the original route, but more often it will simply offer you another pathway. Now, imagine if life worked like that. Imagine if every time we found ourselves going off course, we were offered the new route back to the best version of ourselves.
This is precisely the approach Moshe Rabbeinu takes in Devarim. As the Jewish people stand on the threshold of the Promised Land, about to change course completely from the secure existence they had enjoyed for four decades, Moshe offers them a platform to succeed in their new situation. Not criticism or recrimination. Instead, he offers something far more valuable: a retrospective that focuses not on blame but on learning from mistakes and charting a new route ahead.
Yes, there were the spies who brought back a discouraging report, and the repercussions were devastating. So, beware of those whose advice will set you back.
Yes, there was the golden calf, and you almost went off a cliff before your journey even started. So, don’t fall into the trap of attractive ideas that will end up taking you down.
Yes, there was the rebellion of Korach. So, don’t allow yourself to be drawn into self-destructive insurrections.
Moshe acknowledges these missteps, not to draw attention to the mistakes, but to explain that every misstep is just a stumble along the way to your predetermined destination.
For forty years, the Israelites had lived as perpetual wanderers, always looked after by God – manna falling from heaven, water flowing from rocks, clouds providing direction and protection. They had become accustomed to a kind of spiritual dependency, where their basic needs were miraculously provided, and their major decisions were made through divine signs.
Now, as they prepared to enter the Land of Israel, everything was about to change. They would need to plant crops and harvest them, dig wells and maintain them, establish courts and ensure justice, defend borders and govern cities. The wilderness mindset – reactive, dependent, whiny – had to give way to a completely different approach: proactive, responsible, and focused on building a society.
Perhaps no figure in Jewish history understood this principle better than Rabbi Yochanan ben Zakkai. As Jerusalem collapsed under the weight of the Roman siege in 70 CE, he understood that the Temple would imminently be destroyed.
Unless there was a drastic adaptation to new realities, Judaism would disappear. The old system – Temple-based Judaism centered in Jerusalem – was collapsing. The rebels who presided over Jerusalem, including his own nephew, refused to consider any alternative. They clung to the familiar, convinced that doubling down was the only honorable path.
But Rabbi Yochanan ben Zakkai chose to recalculate. His famous request to the Roman general Vespasian – “Give me Yavneh and its sages” – was an acknowledgement that a new route was required to get to the same destination.
The route through Temple worship was no longer available. So, instead of doggedly pursuing the same path and pretending that the destruction wasn’t happening, Rabbi Yochanan ben Zakkai calmly assessed the new landscape and found an alternative route: a Judaism that could survive and thrive without the Temple, a Judaism centered on study and scholarship rather than animal sacrifices and pilgrimage.
The transformation was radical. The Judaism that emerged from Yavneh may have been significantly different from what had come before, but it worked — spectacularly. And the proof is that it has survived for nearly two millennia. Meanwhile, those who refused to change course disappeared without a trace once the Temple was destroyed.
This theme resonates powerfully with Shabbat Chazon, the Shabbat of Isaiah’s Vision that precedes Tisha B’Av. The haftarah from Isaiah that gives this Shabbat its name is predominantly a prophecy of doom, and a divine indictment of Jewish failures.
But if you look more carefully, you’ll see something else entirely: embedded within the rebuke is the ultimate recalculation. Isaiah acknowledges that the Jewish people are off course and the consequences for that will be severe – exile, destruction, and the loss of the Temple.
But the prophet’s message isn’t “Game Over.” Instead, his underlying message is “Come now, let us reason together” (Is. 1:18) — even after destruction, we can recalculate. The vision Isaiah presents isn’t only about destruction, it’s also about reconstruction.
The entire concept of Tisha B’Av embodies this principle. When we fast and mourn, it’s not just about wallowing in historical tragedy. It’s about engaging honestly with our missteps so we can find our way back to the correct route.
Our day of mourning is about the destruction of the past, but simultaneously it is also a day of recalculation, a hopeful acknowledgement that while we may have taken wrong turns, we remain on course for our destination.
Moshe’s retrospective in Parshat Devarim and Isaiah’s vision in the haftarah of Shabbat Chazon both carry the same essential message: it’s never “Game Over.” No matter how far off course we’ve traveled, no matter how many wrong turns we’ve taken, the GPS of divine providence is always ready to find the route that will get us back on track.
The question is only whether we have the wisdom to listen and the courage to follow that new route home.
The author is a rabbi in Beverly Hills, California.
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Shock Poll: Does the Silent Majority in Australia — and Beyond — Actually Exist?

Car in New South Wales, Australia graffitied with antisemitic message. The word “F***” has been removed from this image. Photo: Screenshot
On July 29, 2025, a national poll in Australia delivered a deeply unsettling message: perhaps the “silent majority” that we believed in for so long — those decent, fair-minded Australians who would reject antisemitism when it crossed a line — was never really there to begin with.
The survey revealed that just 24% of Australians hold a positive view of Jews, while 28% express negative views, and the rest are indifferent or unsure.
This is not the fringe — it is the center. And it lands after two years of unrelenting escalation, during which antisemitic incidents in Australia have surged by over 300%. Synagogues have been firebombed. Jewish businesses have been attacked. Marches in our cities have featured chants glorifying terror and calling for the annihilation of the Jewish State.
For the past two years, we’ve watched the unthinkable become normalized — and still, the silence has persisted. We reassured ourselves that when things got bad, or worse, Australians — quiet, pragmatic, egalitarian — would draw a line. We believed that behind the chaos of social media and the radicalism of campus protests, there was a steady, principled middle who would never let hate take hold. But perhaps we were wrong. Or perhaps we simply misread the signs.
We saw moments that encouraged hope: political leaders condemning antisemitism after high-profile incidents; universities adopting or referencing definitions of antisemitism — though often watered down, selectively applied, or lacking enforcement; and a few faith and community leaders standing shoulder to shoulder with Jewish communities in symbolic gestures of unity. We mistook these signals as proof that the mainstream was with us — that the loudest voices did not represent the majority.
But those signs were often just that — symbolic. Many condemnations were performative. Institutional policies were rarely enforced. And while we heard reassurances from officials that “most Australians reject hate,” we now know they didn’t have the data to back it up.
So why did we believe?
The truth is that the idea of a silent majority is emotionally powerful. It reassures us that we are not alone. It suggests that while antisemitism may be loud, decency is quietly stronger. It gives us permission to believe in the goodness of our neighbors, even when the evidence is thin. It tells us that democracy will self-correct, that morality will prevail in the end.
But increasingly, that belief feels more like a coping mechanism than a reality. We’ve clung to it without data, without proof, and — if we’re honest — without election results to support it. Because the alternative is terrifying: the alternative is that the center is not asleep, but absent.
And if the silent majority doesn’t exist — if it never did — what then?
It means that antisemitism isn’t just being ignored; it’s being tolerated. It means that when politicians offer symbolic recognition of a Palestinian state while Hamas still holds hostages and preaches genocide, they are not defying their electorate — they may be reflecting it. It means that when university encampments promote terror and intimidate Jewish students, and administrators do nothing, it’s not cowardice — it may be calculated silence. It means that we are not surrounded by quiet allies, but by people who either don’t care or don’t know.
It also means that we can no longer wait for “them” to speak up.
This isn’t just happening in Australia. Across the Western world, the same pattern is emerging. In Canada, antisemitism on campuses is surging, and the government now flirts with symbolic recognition of a Palestinian state — not as part of peace negotiations, but as a political signal. In Ireland, Spain, Norway, and the UK, similar moves have rewarded those who glorify terror while ignoring those who seek dialogue. In the United States, antisemitism reached record highs last year, with Jewish students and communities increasingly ostracized for daring to speak the truth.
These are not isolated developments — they are part of a deeper pattern: the moral center is shrinking, and the hateful fringes are being normalized.
At StandWithUs Australia, we fight back with facts, with education, and with pride. We equip students and communities to speak up for truth, to push back against hatred. But we cannot do this alone. We are a small community. And now, more than ever, we need others to stand publicly — not silently — with us.
Because if the silent majority was ever real, now is the time to speak. And if it remains silent now, then we must confront the hardest truth of all: that it was never there to begin with.
In that case, the path forward changes.
We must stop seeking quiet affirmation and instead build loud, unignorable support. We must shift from trusting that others will step up, to ensuring that we are strong enough to lead. We must teach, advocate, organize, and call out moral cowardice for what it is — whether it comes from universities, governments, media, or community leaders.
Because if we’ve learned anything from the past two years, it’s that silence isn’t safety.
And comfort, no matter how convincing, is not the same as courage.
Michael Gencher is executive director StandWithUs Australia, an international nonpartisan education organization that supports Israel and fights antisemitism.
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For the Angry Mob, Facts Don’t Matter

Greek riot police clash with pro-Palestinian protesters near the port of Rhodes during a demonstration targeting an Israeli cruise ship. Photo: Screenshot
Facts matter — especially when they involve blood libels and mobs with pitchforks over the latest news from Gaza.
The original blood libel, for centuries, was something akin to the “Jews make matzah with the blood of children,” and other horrific things, which makes the current allegation in 2025 of starvation of children in Gaza into an equally horrific act. It could be modern blood libel, except we collectively can’t seem to tell fact from fiction at this point.
Is there a grain of truth in the hideous photographs of starving children in Gaza? Are the facts on the ground, as the media would have you believe, as awful as they look ? I asked myself this as I found myself swimming in photographic-based horror. The children need to eat, this is clear.
In reality, there appear to be multiple factors and bad actors to blame on the current round of hideous accusations. There are the letters from various rabbis, there are the doctors within Gaza, and then there’s the UN, all declaring a horrible famine and with Israel being accused as the culprit.
Never mind that the UN is not properly delivering food aid, that terrorists on the ground are attacking and robbing trucks, Hamas terrorists are shooting civilians, and many other truths. Ignore The New York Times article declaring Hamas “not guilty” of stealing aid — despite serious evidence to the contrary.
Israel is the villain in every single story around the globe.
We’re told to accept the venomous narrative without question, and not to notice that the child in the viral starving photo has cerebral palsy and is suffering from hypoxia. No one wants to examine the facts — which also might implicate Hamas as co-creators of the despicable debacle.
No one in the online mob wants to point out that photos of children are being exploited based on medical conditions. None of these attacking articles mention the loaded aid trucks that the UN chooses not to deliver. Yes, Netanyahu’s siege is a direct cause of the famine. Yes, the UN has a part and responsibility to deliver food from the aid trucks. Yes, Hamas has been stealing aid. Yes, Hamas members appear rather chubby and are definitely not starving. Yes, Israel has a blockade. Yes, Hamas also has done a thousand other things to facilitate this famine, including refusing a ceasefire just last week, which again would stop the fighting and bring in aid.
Israel even allows aid to enter and be delivered from the air, and what does the media immediately do? The media calls it “Grotesque” in headlines over the weekend. The media condemns Israel no matter if they let in aid, or don’t let in aid.
The media condemns Israel now for allowing air drops, because “the airdrop might hit someone.”
The media bias is so obvious and so sickening at this point, because every single story, every single article is written to paint the nation of Israel as the evil villain.
Rarely if ever, does anyone ask, how are the numbers verified ? Who is in charge of delivering the aid, why is Hamas not being held accountable? Why did the UN not choose delivery routes for all the trucks ? Why isn’t Egypt opening its gate and delivering aid?
The double standard is utterly appalling. No matter the facts, no matter Israel’s efforts to negotiate a ceasefire, to offer aid, anything and everything is condemned by a rabid crowd who shrugs and says, “who cares who is to blame” before again condemning and demonizing Israel.
It’s become a complete waste of time to even bother writing or speaking with the anti-Israel crowd online, they don’t want to hear anything. “So what, who cares?” Because the truth be told, they only want to demonize Israel. If there are other factors such as the UN refusing to coordinate with the Israeli government, then the online mobs with pitchforks don’t want to even consider it. The double standard, the blind eye towards all the other factors contributing to the situation, will never be contemplated by the angry mob.
These same people don’t mention horrific conditions — and worse food insecurity situations all across the globe — because Israel can’t be blamed. We don’t know how much is true or false because there is so much villainizing, now aided by AI and photographs from other conflicts around the world, used without verification and with impunity.
Nothing will stop the mobs with pitchforks, even when the food situation improves. They don’t care about any of the other factors contributing to it. You will never hear their voices raised for the starving children of Yemen, Sudan, or anywhere else — because they only raise their voices to villainize the state of Israel.
It’s impossible to ignore the hatred right in the open. The angry online mob only wants to point fingers and scream; they won’t care or look at themselves when their poisonous words become actions on the ground that result in the murder of Jewish people thousands of miles away. Instead, they will feel justified — and that is a very dangerous thing for the entire world.
Alix Kahn is a writer of essays, poetry, short stories and more.