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The Loneliness of American Jews Post-October 7: A Reflection on True Friendship, Antisemitism, and Double Standards
The world revealed a terrible ugliness and horrific hate on October 7, 2023, when Hamas launched a brutal terror attack on Israel, and started the ongoing war against Hamas, Palestinian Islamic Jihad, Hezbollah, and their supporters.
The global rise in anti-Jewish bigotry and hatred have been shocking, but not surprising. The hatred of Jews being so openly expressed, and often masked as anti-Zionism and anti-Israel activism, has left a deep scar on the Jewish community worldwide.
For American Jews, this tragedy has not only been a moment of profound sorrow, but also a time of painful revelation. When the terror attack began and the world reacted, many American Jews began to grapple with the uncomfortable realization of who their real friends are. The rise in anti-Jewish racism and bigotry, and the hypocritical double standards justifying antisemitic, anti-Israel, and anti-Zionist sentiments have exacerbated a profound sense of loneliness and alienation.
The Shock of Silence
In the immediate aftermath of the October 7 attack, Jewish communities across the United States looked to their friends, colleagues, and allies for support and solidarity. Many of us found solidarity among our own Jewish communities and the few allies who rose as upstanders.
While many stood in solidarity, offering condolences and condemning the violence, a distressing number of erstwhile allies were conspicuously silent. The absence of unequivocal support from individuals and organizations who had previously championed human rights and social justice was a stark and painful revelation.
This silence was not just an absence of words; it was a loud declaration of where allegiances truly lay. For many American Jews, it felt like a betrayal, a stark reminder that our pain and suffering were not seen as legitimate or worthy of the same empathy extended to other marginalized groups.
The Rise of Antisemitism
Antisemitism is anti-Jewish racism. No matter if it is called anti-Israel or anti-Zionist, it is anti-Jewish.
The resurgence of antisemitism has been another bitter pill to swallow. According to the Anti-Defamation League, antisemitic incidents in the United States have been on the rise for several years, and the aftermath of the October 7 attack has only intensified this trend. Synagogues have been vandalized, Jewish individuals harassed or attacked, and anti-Jewish rhetoric has proliferated online and in public discourse.
The surge in antisemitism is not just a reaction to the conflict in Israel, but a reflection of deep-seated prejudices that have been allowed to fester. The false dichotomy between being anti-Zionist and antisemitic has provided a convenient cover for those who harbor ill will towards Jews. The vilification of Israel often spills over into a broader hatred of Jews, making it increasingly difficult for American Jews to feel safe and accepted in our own country.
Every day, my social media accounts are filled with anti-Jewish hatred, personal threats, and even death-threats against me as an individual. And the hatred online does not stay online. I have needed security to be hired for my speaking engagements outside of Israel. News reports, and countless stories shared with me by individuals and organizations, reveal the ever-increasing targeting, bullying, harassment, hate crimes, vandalism, and terrorism.
Hypocrisy and Double Standards
One of the most insidious aspects of this experience has been the hypocritical double standards employed to justify anti-Jewish racism and anti-Zionism. Many who speak out passionately against other forms of racism and discrimination are conspicuously quiet when it comes to antisemitism. The selective application of principles of justice and human rights is glaring.
Critics of Israel often frame their arguments in the language of human rights, yet they ignore the existential threats faced by the Jewish State and its people. They hold Israel to an impossible standard, one not applied to any other nation. This hypocrisy extends to the justification of violence against Israelis and Jews, which is often downplayed or excused in ways that violence against other groups would never be.
My own liberal, progressive, and LGBTQ communities have revealed terribly anti-Israel and anti-Zionist factions that I actively speak out and stand against — and some of these are former fiends and organizations I used to be involved with.
It is vital that we stand up for our people, our values, and our rights and security, even if it means we stand up against some of the communities that were supposed to include and represent us. The harsh reality of their words and actions let us know who supports us and who is against us.
In the first months after October 7th, I felt as if two-thirds of my friends were not real friends, or had become former-friends. In the following months it felt like almost three-quarters of them were former-friends.
I was pained when people directly expressed anti-Israel, anti-Zionist, and anti-Jewish sentiments in their social media posts, in marching and attending the protests, riots, and encampments, and even in direct messages to me. But I shifted away from that pain towards the hopeful outcomes of my activism and advocacy. These former-friends revealed to me that they never were the types of people who should have been my friends to begin with.
Finding True Friends
In these challenging times, American Jews have found solace and support in unexpected places. True friends have emerged, those who understand that standing against antisemitism and supporting Israel’s right to exist is not mutually exclusive with advocating for Palestinian rights. These allies recognize that condemning terrorism and supporting Jewish communities in their time of need is a matter of basic human decency.
Jewish organizations and some interfaith groups have also played a crucial role in providing support and fostering solidarity. By coming together, sharing experiences, and working towards mutual understanding, these groups have helped to mitigate the feelings of isolation and loneliness that many American Jews have been experiencing.
I have been traveling across the United States and Canada on a speaking, advocacy, and media tour. As keynote speaker, my goal is to empower, inspire, and motivate Jews and allies towards being activists and advocates for the Jewish people, Israel, and the values we find important.
While I consistently am met with hatred and threats in many of these cities (and across social media), I have also made new friends and have witnessed communities coming together and new bonds being formed.
Moving Forward
The path forward is fraught with challenges, but it is also filled with opportunities for growth and solidarity. American Jews must continue to advocate for our rights and work towards educating others about the realities of anti-Jewish racism, hatred, and bigotry. We also must share the truths and the complexities of the Israeli-Palestinian conflict. Building bridges with other communities and finding common ground will be essential in combating the double standards and prejudices that persist.
In the aftermath of the October 7 attack, and the ever-increasing anti-Jewish hatred, violence, and threats, the loneliness felt by American Jews is a painful reminder of the work that still needs to be done. But it is also a testament to the resilience and strength of the Jewish people — and why the Zionist movement exists. We have faced adversity time and again. By standing together and reaching out to true friends, American Jews can continue to fight against antisemitism and for a more just and compassionate world. We are fighting for our existence today and for the future of our people, here in America, Israel, and around the world.
Am Israel Chai.
Yuval David is an Emmy and Multi-Award-Winning Actor, Filmmaker, Journalist, and Jewish LGBTQ+ activist and advisor. A creative and compelling storyteller, on stage and screen, news and across social media, Yuval shares the narrative of Jewish activism and enduring hope. Follow him on Instagram and X.
The post The Loneliness of American Jews Post-October 7: A Reflection on True Friendship, Antisemitism, and Double Standards first appeared on Algemeiner.com.
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Board of Peace Members Have Pledged More Than $5 billion for Gaza, Trump Says
A drone view shows the destruction in a residential neighborhood, after the withdrawal of the Israeli forces from the area, amid a ceasefire between Israel and Hamas in Gaza, in Gaza City, October 21, 2025. Photo: REUTERS/Dawoud Abu Alkas/File Photo
US President Donald Trump said Board of Peace member states will announce at an upcoming meeting on Thursday a pledge of more than $5 billion for reconstruction and humanitarian efforts in Gaza.
In a post on Truth Social on Sunday, Trump wrote that member states have also committed thousands of personnel toward a U.N.-authorized stabilization force and local police in the Palestinian enclave.
The US president said Thursday’s gathering, the first official meeting of the group, will take place at the Donald J. Trump Institute of Peace, which the State Department recently renamed after the president. Delegations from more than 20 countries, including heads of state, are expected to attend.
The board’s creation was endorsed by a United Nations Security Council resolution as part of the Trump administration’s plan to end the war between Israel and Palestinian Islamist group Hamas in Gaza.
Israel and Hamas agreed to the plan last year with a ceasefire officially taking effect in October, although both sides have accused each other repeatedly of violating the ceasefire. According to Gaza’s Health Ministry, more than 590 Palestinians have been killed by Israeli troops in the territory since the ceasefire began. Israel has said four of its soldiers have been killed by Palestinian militants in the same period.
While regional Middle East powers including Turkey, Egypt, Saudi Arabia, Qatar and Israel – as well as emerging nations such as Indonesia – have joined the board, global powers and traditional Western US allies have been more cautious.
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Why a forgotten teacher’s grave became a Jewish pilgrimage site
Along Britton Road in Rochester, New York, a brick gatehouse sits across from ordinary homes. Beyond it lies Britton Road Cemetery, its grounds divided into family plots and sections claimed over time by Orthodox congregations and fraternal associations, past and present. Names like Anshe Polen, Beth Hakneses Hachodosh, B’nai Israel, and various Jewish fraternal organizations are found here.
On the east side of the cemetery, a modest gray headstone draws visitors who do not personally know the man buried there, who were never taught his name in school, and who claim no personal connection to his life. Some leave notes. Some light candles in a small metal box set nearby. Others whisper prayers and stand for a moment before going. They come because they believe holiness can be found here.
The grave belongs to Rabbi Yechiel Meir Burgeman, a Polish-born teacher who died in 1938. He did not lead a major congregation or leave behind an institution that bears his name. And yet, nearly a century after his death, people still visit.
Over time, Burgeman has come to be remembered as a tzaddik nistar, a hidden righteous person, whose holiness is known through their teaching and daily life rather than through any title or position. His grave has become a place of intercession. People come to pray for healing, for help in times of uncertainty, and for the hope of marriage. What endures here is not an individual’s biography so much as a practice: the belief that a life lived with integrity can continue to shape devotion, even after the body has been laid to rest.
In life, Burgeman was not known as a miracle worker or a public figure. He was a melamed, a teacher of children, living plainly among other Jewish immigrants in Rochester’s Jewish center in the early decades of the 20th century. At one point, he was dismissed from a teaching post for refusing to soften his instruction. He later opened his own cheder, or schoolroom. There was no congregation to inherit his name, no institution to archive his papers. When he died, he was buried in an ordinary way at Britton Road Cemetery, one grave among many.
What followed was not immediate.
Remembered in return
The meaning attached to Burgeman’s resting place accumulated slowly. Stories began to circulate. People spoke of his kindness, his discipline, his integrity. Over time, visitors came. The grave became a place not of answers, but of belief. For generations, this turning toward the dead has taken this same form. It is not worship. It is proximity. A way of standing near those believed to have lived rightly, and asking that their merit might still matter.
In Jewish tradition, prayer at a grave is a reflection on those believed to have lived with righteousness, asking that their merit accompany the living in moments of need. Psalms are traditionally recited. Words are often spoken quietly.
I have done something similar too. Years ago, before I converted to Judaism and before I had the means to travel, I sent a written prayer through a Chabad service that delivers letters to the grave of the Lubavitcher Rebbe in New York. Someone else carried it. I cannot say with absolute certainty what happened because of it. Only that the practice itself made space for hope that I was seen, and that a prayer was later answered in ways that shaped my life and deepened my understanding of Judaism.
Burgeman’s grave functions in a similar register, though without any institutional frame. People come not because his name is widely known, but because the story has endured. Over time, that story gathered details. The most persistent involves a dog said to have escorted Jewish children to Burgeman’s cheder so they would not be harassed along the way by other youths. The dog then stood watch until they were ready to return home. The versions differ. Some are reverent. Some are playful. Some verge on the miraculous. The story endures because it names something children needed: care, in a world that could be frightening.
In recent decades, Burgeman’s afterlife has taken on a digital form. His name surfaces in comment threads and genealogical forums, passed along by people who never met him and are not always sure how they are connected. Spellings are debated. Dates are corrected. A descendant appears. A former student’s grandchild adds a fragment. Someone asks whether this is the same man their grandmother spoke of. No single account settles the matter. Instead, memory gathers. What once traveled by word of mouth now moves through hyperlinks.
The internet allows fragments to remain visible. Burgeman’s story survives not because it was officially recorded, but because enough people cared to remember it. In this way, his legacy resembles the man himself: quiet, unadorned, sustained by actions rather than declaration.
This story does not offer certainty. It is about remembering a life and asking if we might still learn from it and if, perhaps, it can bring us closer to faith. Burgeman left no grand monument. He left descendants. A grave. A life of Jewish values that continues to teach.
Burgeman did not seek recognition in life. After death, he became something else: a teacher still teaching, not through words, but through the way people continue to act on his memory. That is the lesson. Not any miracle. Not any legend. The quiet insistence that a life lived with integrity does not end when the casket is placed into the earth.
Some graves are instructions.
This one still asks something of us.
The post Why a forgotten teacher’s grave became a Jewish pilgrimage site appeared first on The Forward.
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Turkey Sends Drilling Ship to Somalia in Major Push for Energy Independence
Turkish President Tayyip Erdogan speaks during a ceremony for the handover of new vehicles to the gendarmerie and police forces in Istanbul, Turkey, Nov. 28, 2025. Photo: REUTERS/Murad Sezer
i24 News – Turkey has dispatched a drilling vessel to Somalia to begin offshore oil exploration, marking what officials describe as a historic step in Ankara’s drive to strengthen energy security and reduce reliance on imports.
Turkish Minister of Energy and Natural Resources Alparslan Bayraktar announced that the drilling ship Çagri Bey is set to sail from the port of Taşucu in southern Turkey, heading toward Somali territorial waters.
The vessel will pass through the Strait of Gibraltar and around the coast of southern Africa before reaching its destination, with drilling operations expected to begin in April or May.
Bayraktar described the mission as a “historic” milestone, saying it reflects Turkey’s long-term strategy to enhance national energy security and move closer to self-sufficiency.
The operation will be protected by the Turkish Naval Forces, which will deploy several naval units to secure both the vessel’s route and the drilling area in the Gulf of Aden and the Arabian Sea. The security arrangements fall under existing cooperation agreements between Ankara and Somalia.
The move aligns with a broader vision promoted by President Recep Tayyip Erdoğan, aimed at reducing Turkey’s dependence on foreign energy supplies, boosting domestic production, and shielding the economy from external pressures.
Bayraktar said Turkey is also working to double its natural gas output in the Black Sea this year, while continuing offshore exploration along its northern coastline. In parallel, Ankara is preparing to bring its first nuclear reactor online at the Akkuyu Nuclear Power Plant, which is expected to begin generating electricity soon and eventually supply about 10% of the country’s energy needs.
The current drilling effort is based on survey data collected last year and forms part of Ankara’s wider plan to expand its energy exploration activities both regionally and internationally.