Tag: October 7

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The Massacre of October 7th

Simchat Torah is every Jewish person’s favorite holiday, you can’t convince me otherwise. Feasts that would put the Beauty and the Beast’s feast to shame, uncoordinated dances in synagogues and living up to true joy. It’s

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I Am OK but I Am Not OK

We had our first siren this morning. We live 80 miles from Gaza, but the “boom” from our fortified room in the basement was unmistakable. They don’t tell us where the missiles fall for security reasons,

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They Went to Dance

But all I can think is, “They broke their legs.” As I drink my tea, the sun is rising in a breathtaking flourish of colours,  But all I can think is, “They broke their legs.” As

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Letter From Jerusalem: We Are Not Okay

They say the night is darkest before dawn. It certainly is very dark right now.   I pray that dawn is coming soon. It better be. Because the darkness is bleak, palpable, encompassing. As I write

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Kill ‘Em With Kindness

Nechama Eisenman | Ramat Beit Shemesh, Israel We Jews are “eye-for-an-eye” People. Ayin Tachat Ayin is an actual commandment that expresses reciprocal justice. (Shemot/Exodus 21:23–27) Indeed, justice is the lifeblood of our faith. And not only

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Writing from home
Ben Gold

And he descended

We have descended. If history follows a pattern, we’re in Exile. And 7 October was the Destruction. Destruction of our faith in. And our hope for. Of our passivity. Our freedom to be extreme. The mirage

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Writing from home
Miriam Roskind

Juxtaposition

Today is somehow both the last day of Sukkot and the first night of Chanuka It is both October 7th and December 7th Terror doesn’t have a calendar Nights are spent tossing and turning Worried for

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It’s Too Much

Note from the author: What we have lived through during the last days is still incomprehensible in its scope. Each day we learn of new horrors and are fearful of which names we will hear next.

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Birds in flight by Tania Shalom Michaelian
Writing from home
Tania Shalom Michaelian

The Day After October 7

Heavy with the weight of tears And lack of sleep, I barely managed to lift my head towards the morning sky To try and follow the movement which caught my eye A muster of storks flew

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