As a Jew, Learning to Hold Multiple Truths About Israel

The "heroic nation" stories from my childhood just don't work anymore

“Israel is the only place in the world where you can walk down the street with a sign that says, ‘I am a Jew,’ and be safe,” said our tour guide, standing in front of Independence Hall in Tel Aviv. In the decade and a half after my Birthright Israel trip, the guide’s words remained burned in my mind. They made me think of how, just before Israel’s Declaration of Independence, my grandmother Zelda found refuge in Palestine as a survivor of the Holocaust. After being orphaned at 13 during the liquidation of the Vilna ghetto, then suffering for years in various concentration camps until she was near death, Zelda must have seen Israel as a miracle, an answer to prayer, a dream of safety finally coming true. 

Several years after that Israel trip, I began writing a novel based on my grandmother’s experience. Her testimony of survival was incredible––but just as amazing was her unbreakable spirit. Despite her history of trauma, she was one of the most open-hearted people I’d ever met. Others needed to know her story. As I wrote, imagining Zelda as a fictional character, I thought deeply about how, in many survivors’ accounts, hope was the necessary ingredient to their survival. For Zelda, the dream of a safe future in Israel provided that life-sustaining hope.

During my research process I first learned about the Nakba, the catastrophic displacement of Palestinians during the creation of the state of Israel. The fact that I’d never heard (or paid attention to) such accounts before disturbed me. I’d watched Chimimanda Ngozie Adichie’s 2009 TED talk where she speaks about the danger of a single story. I knew that if I didn’t open myself up to these unfamiliar, conflicting stories about Israel, I would be in treacherous territory. But I had no idea how to integrate this new information with the old, so I set it aside and figured I could try another time.

“Another time” became inescapable after the Israel-Hamas war began. For me, October 7 and its aftermath was a loss of innocence. First, the news of the Hamas attack destroyed the sense of security I’d worn like a talisman for so many years, based in the belief that Israel could, if necessary, protect me like it protected my grandmother. In that “safest place in the world for Jews” there had been a massacre that resembled the pogroms of old, awakening an ancient terror that lurked in my bones, passed down from my grandmother and my ancestors before her. Add to that the celebrations and defense of the Hamas attack that filled my social media feed, and I wondered if this was the writing on the wall for Jews, if the solemn promises of “Never again” were now moot.

But after a few days I realized I was, for the present, safe and sound in my American suburb. I began to shift from self-focused survival mode and wake up to the reality of what was happening in Gaza. A second loss of innocence: As the IDF rained 2,000-pound bombs on targets in Gaza, killing innocent civilians––including so many children––in staggering numbers, I could no longer view Israel as the heroic nation I wanted it to be. In the months since, the IDF’s actions––from blocking humanitarian aid to, most recently, killing seven World Central Kitchen aid workers––have sickened me and kept me in a continual state of heartbreak and disorientation. 

Back in the fall, my “single story” about Israel was obliterated as I listened to what Palestinians were saying. I dove deep into articles and podcasts about the Nakba, about failed peace processes, about the decades of Israeli oppression of Palestinians. It is painful work to question what I was told growing up, to rearrange my beliefs. Now my biggest challenge is holding multiple truths at the same time: Refusing to choose one side’s suffering or justice over the other––October 7 was horrific and there are tens of thousands of Israelis still reeling from that trauma, and there is ongoing, minute-by-minute horror happening in Gaza, the trauma of which will echo for generations. Holding multiple truths means believing that Netanyahu’s leadership and policies have led to unforgivable horrors, while also believing that Israel has a right to exist, and can still repent and change. 

Sometimes I think about what I’ll tell Zadie when she’s older and learning about this horrifying war. She knows my dad was born in Israel and that the country plays a significant role in our family’s history. One day, she’ll know more of the details of her great-grandmother’s experience during the Holocaust––and how Israel gave her a new life. When discussing tricky situations with Zadie, I sometimes adopt the “two things are true” model taught by Dr. Becky. “When there are two people in a room, there are also two sets of feelings, thoughts, needs and perspectives,” Kennedy writes in her book Good Inside. By holding onto multiple realities at once, she continues, both parties “can feel seen and feel real, even if they are in conflict.”

Maybe I can use “two things are true” to teach Zadie about Israel and its place in our family and the world. I can’t tell her the same stories I was told about Israel without telling her the other stories I now know about Palestinians, or the stories of Israel’s transgressions during this war. Stories that, told together, show how a miracle for one was a catastrophe for another. How a dream for one was a nightmare for another. And how it’s possible to be a victim and a victimizer at the same time. 

I’ll tell her, “Two things are true,” and one truth doesn’t cancel out the other. Maybe by then I’ll be able to point to a map showing the states of Israel and Palestine. Two realities, two truths, living side by side in peace.

Recs

Brene Brown kicked off her new iteration of her Unlocking Us podcast with a three-part series of conversations on Israel and Palestine. All three episodes are very good; this one with two leaders from the Israeli-Palestinian grassroots movement Standing Together was my favorite.

Jose Andres: Let People Eat (NYT gift link) - The op-ed from World Central Kitchen’s founder where he calls for Israel/the IDF to wake up and change their ways. “Israel is better than the way this war is being waged. … In the worst conditions, after the worst terrorist attack in its history, it’s time for the best of Israel to show up.”

In case you missed it, I shared this poem (by Abigail Bengson) on my Instagram and how it resonated with me.

Speaking of Abigail Bengson, this post of her singing about holding two truths at the same time is very moving. This song about despair being a tool of the empire is also very powerful.

“The Last Bulwark Against Authoritarianism” - This short sermon by Rabbi Sharon Brous is illuminating and eye-opening about how the failure to hold multiple truths is hurting EVERYONE, including the progressive left.

Wrapping Up

I know this is a heavy one for Midweek Joy, but I wrote the first version of this piece months ago and really felt the need to share it. I’m not using social media very much and I’m not talking about Israel and Palestine online very much, but it’s on my heart and mind literally every single day. Also, with our own elections coming up in the fall, I’m thinking a lot about how our country is in very real danger of having a leader like Netanyahu very soon. We need to keep our eyes open to these lessons happening in real time.

Thank you for reading, though. I appreciate you all! And I’ll be back in your inboxes in a few weeks with more of my usual content . . . my piece last time about the honey badger generation has led me to start readjusting my parenting style and I have a lot of thoughts!!

All Good Things,

Joy