There’s something really magical about the first real snowfall, despite the slow drivers on roads, icy bike paths, and bus delays. When it started to snow a couple days ago, my grade 11 class stood up as one unit and clustered around the windows, pressing their noses to the glass, taking photos. When my grade 7 class came in a few minutes later, they dropped their bags at their chairs and ran to the windows as well. To say the least, it was heartwarming to see the whole class, comprised of individuals who normally erupt into chaos upon being so physically close to one another, crowded in one line against the windows, looking out at the trees and rooftops.
The first snow is one of those moments where children see the environment in a totally new way, even though it happens every year, and where adults remember what it feels like to be children. Walking home from the climbing hall last night, a route I decided not to take with my bike due to my earlier encounter with unpleasant riding conditions, we sang quietly, “It’s snowing, it’s snowing, it’s snowing.” Our wonderland air was crisp and cold, fresh, winter.
On the way to school, again choosing to leave the bike at home, I walked under the sort of trees that inspire illustrations in children’s books and watched the red glow beginning on the horizon. As my first students came in for the day, we observed the parting of the clouds, the first rays of gold greeting red rooftops and the tallest tree branches. We don’t always see the sun in wintertime here.
Winter is the Earth’s opportunity to sleep, to rest and restore before coming alive again in spring. Rest and restoration is something we all need, and perhaps the short, dark days can be seen as a way of making the time and space for that. This is also a time to huddle close to family and friends, to warm the hearts, souls, and cold feet. We have visitors coming soon, the Christmas Market has opened, and fresh snow keeps us moving slowly, changing the way we structure our days.
It’s a beautiful time, winter, and I’m glad it’s here.
Many, many years ago, the father of a dear friend told me, “You know, Becca, you need to make sure it’s the right person in the right place at the right time.” I don’t remember the context, but I remember being in the kitchen at the family’s home, one of those wonderful places that never seems to change, no matter how many years go by. I’ve forgotten everything else about that moment, but I’ve always held onto those words.
That’s what was in my mind when I received a call full of uncertainty and doubt. And after listening and affirming what I’d heard, that’s what informed my response. The voice on the other end remained doubtful and uncertain but sounded a little less torn, a little less fraught.
After hanging up, I thought about what I’d felt in my body while we talked; you’d told me what you were feeling in yours. The equanimity I had experienced and continued to experience assured me that I’d given the most honest answer I could, and I believe you heard that.
I hope your mind quieted and that you slept softly. To look around, consider whether the circumstances are right, and make a choice can be scary – and that’s how we know it’s important.
In my journal last night, I wrote that maybe what I’m experiencing is cognitive dissonance. My brain must have worked on this as I slept because I woke up with a structure of what to say, a structure that I’ve spent a month trying to find.
I grew up learning about a land connected to my ancestry through thousands of years and I was elated to have three opportunities to visit.
I grew up understanding that violence is not the answer, never the answer.
As an adult, I found myself teaching a course with the goal of understanding criticism of the government of this land and engaging with it to develop opinions based on critical thought rather than doctrine or dogma.
As an adult, I have maintained the stance that violence is not the way. I’ve written a blog series about peace building, a book about peace building. My stance here is not new.
I would like to think that I heard about Hamas’s terrorist attack on Israeli citizens with the same horror as everyone else. It was reminiscent of Russia’s invasion of Ukraine, after all. A clear aggressor, a clear catalyst, an incredible toll on innocent people. Governments react, civilians shoulder the consequences.
But I’ve seen that there are people who don’t view a terrorist attack as unjustified, and their outrage did not mirror mine.
I live in a town that has posters of Israeli civilians taken hostage by Hamas hanging on lampposts. I live in a town that hosted not only a pro-Israel gathering in one of our many squares, but also a pro-Israel concert at the most prestigious of our theatres. I work in a school with people from around the world, and a flyer for a march supporting Gaza appeared in our staff room. My student council students have been struggling with how to word a social media post urging peace; we needed mere moments after Russia’s invasion of Ukraine to do the same. But the fact that they are struggling means awareness of nuance, and I cannot fault teenagers for that.
That I live in a small town in a country with strict laws against hate speech means that I’m pretty well insulated. I’ve read about antisemitic rallies, protests, and acts rather than seen them myself. I am grateful for this. But I know people are experiencing terrible things, and it is the discomfort that comes from this knowledge that spurred this blog post.
This blog post is not about the myriad reasons over decades, or centuries, or millennia that could have led to Hamas’s terrorist attack. This blog post is not about the myriad reasons over decades, or centuries, or millennia that could have led to Israel’s response. This blog post is not about who is breaking which laws of war, committing which war crimes, or harming the most civilians.
I want to say clearly that I do not support the idea that the sides of this conflict are morally equivalent. There is a moral wrong here, and it lies with Hamas. It lies with Hamas because their founding tenant is to destroy the nation of Israel, Jewish people, and Judaism. That Hamas is waging a war based on a strategy of knowing that its Israeli opponent practices any degree of restraint should be all that needs to be said.
In terms of civilian response, I find it morally unacceptable that any voices are allowed to call for the destruction of a nation and of a specific group of people, and it is dangerous and hypocritical for this to take place under the guise of voicing support for another group. Antisemitism is loud and it is real. It is one thing to call for peace; it is another to use a call for peace for one group of civilians as an excuse to preach violence against another group of civilians.
But it would also be wrong to deny the immense toll on civilian life. I find the use of the new term “humanitarian pause” disturbing because it suggests that not only is a cease-fire an impossibility, but that it would be futile to work towards one. This new term has removed cease-fire from the language of war, thereby eliminating the concept. War is about power, and language is power.
I grew up understanding that violence is not the answer, never the answer. I believe this to be true.
After Hamas’s attack, it took me many days to decide where to lend financial support because the idea of valuing one set of human lives over another made me nauseous. In the end, I made two donations, realizing that I didn’t have to choose. Civilians are suffering and I cannot stand idly by.
I started this post mentioning cognitive dissonance. It believe it plays a role because I am a pacifist at heart and I know that this position does not work in the real world. I am admitting, here and to myself, that pacifism is not the answer. But I believe, too, that moral positions can act as a framework, and this is the way that I hope the world could be. But it is not enough to hope; one must also act.
Cognitive dissonance plays a role because I grew up in a community deeply entrenched in Jewish life and culture and I am living in a profoundly secular society.
Cognitive dissonance is the discomfort of the conflicting identities, conflicting attitudes, that I experience within myself.
The violence is wrong. The civilian toll is wrong. But in this situation, what is right? We cannot assume rational nation-states as actors because, at the minimum, Hamas is neither a nation-state nor rational. So discussions of this war cannot proceed on that basis. What is to be done with a non-rational, non-state actor? What is to be done with a terrorist organization using not only humanity but humanitarian ideals as a weapon against another actor, one that is, at the minimum, a recognized nation-state?
There is too much emotion in these questions to call either side rational. Thousands of years of conflict are anything but rational.
I do not accept any actors, state or non-state, advocating the destruction of any group of people, supporting violence toward any group of people.
We already know who pays in the end because it is already happening. We already know which nations take which sides because they have already done so.
If an eye for an eye makes the whole world blind, we will all be left scarred.
And will that be enough?
Jerusalem, Israel – April 2017
Photos, travels, musings, and ideas on education by someone trying to make the world a better and more peaceful place
By Rebecca Michelle 