Thank you Jeannie and Imola and to the author who bravely and honestly presented her story here. Such a complicated story to read as unfortunately the modern day Israel story is deeply steeped in politics whether we like it or not.
I am not Jewish but have been interested in Judaism and Israel (when it came about) most of my life. My best friends growing up were Jewish and they often allowed me to participate in their holidays and rituals. Their parents were concentration camp survivors and they shared their stories with me. As a young adult and new parent I taught in a school run by a local synagogue. When my children were young we celebrated Jewish and Christian holidays. Later in life as a social worker I had the privilege of working with more survivors and/or the adult children of survivors. I respect each person’s right to make religious and cultural choices. Friends have moved to Israel.
I do believe that we literally carry in our biology as well as our psyche the scars and joys from the accumulation of our personal and family and tribal as well as global stories. I also believe that when we truly listen we often hear a longing to return to “home” whatever that may be for each of us. I am thankful that those who wish to do so can return to their “home”. I feel that everyone should have that opportunity (literally or metaphorically).
Imola, I agree with you, (with great respect for the Israeli people) that Palestinians also see this geographical area as their home and the heart of so much of their culture and heritage and I feel they should also be allowed to be “home”.
The author presented here speaks of the ability to be with like minded people sharing Judaism together as an important element of feeling at home (in Israel). For many of us we are able to experience that feeling within smaller communities, including churches and other forms of sacred spaces vs a protected geographical area. Given the long history of persecution and attempts to annihilate Jewish people I also understand why they feel the need to have a protected (sacred) space.
Such a difficult topic and I apologize ahead of time for any gaffs I may have made while responding here. Please know I come from a place of peace and love for all people and their needs. Greater minds than mine will have to figure out a peaceful path for all of us.
Again, thanks to everyone for sharing and raising this topic as it is complicated but so important to us all - even non Jewish people.
I really appreciate your thoughtful comment, Sylvia, and it certainly does add more context to the situation, just like Imola’s did. It means a lot to me when people can engage in respectful discourse like both of you have done, because I know that means we are all capable of civilized conversations about often painful and polarizing topics and situations.
Both you and Imola have shown me that the people drawn to my Substack space are kind and emotionally safe. That’s what I want to cultivate here, and I’m so grateful for both of you and what you bring to this conversation.
Thank you Jeannie and thank you for cultivating and holding this safe place for us. There are very few sites where I would feel free to share what I did here.
Well, I am deeply humbled and grateful that you have found a safe, soft landing place in my little corner of Substack, Sylvia. It’s really important to me to provide that, especially since the rest of the world—digitally and otherwise—is so unstable and uncertain.
Hi, Jeannie! This was a powerful and deeply human reflection. I appreciate how Tal names identity not as an abstract idea, but as something lived, carried, and sometimes defended in quiet ways.
The tension between visibility and safety comes through clearly, and it invites us readers to sit with complexity rather than reduce it. Thank you for sharing a story that asks for empathy and courage at the same time. Amazing piece!
Jessica, I’m so grateful you stopped by to read this today. It’s great to have your voice in this space, especially after our recent connection! I think people living complex lives more fully appreciate the nuances, as in the case of my friend who shared this story here, rather than reducing humanity into containers and labels. I’m deeply appreciative you can see through that lens.
One thing I appreciated was how you allowed contradiction to stay present. Love for a land alongside awareness of other people’s longing for the same ground. History braided with immediacy. Inheritance meeting responsibility.
There’s a temptation in conversations like this to tidy everything up, to make a moral diagram where everyone knows where to stand. This didn’t do that. It let the discomfort breathe. It let belonging feel both rooted and costly.
I don’t agree or disagree so much as I recognize the honesty of not pretending this story has a clean edge. That recognition feels rare, and valuable. Thank you for sharing with such authenticity and care. 🧡
Thank you, Alex. I feel relieved that you understand the complexity in my friend's story. We worked on it for a long time. There's so much history, so much generational trauma, and so much that contributes to what identity means to my friend. But, of course, you know quite extensively about identity and how complicated it can be.
So it means a lot that you took time with this and allowed my friend's story to simply be what it was - one version of one person's lived experience that exists alongside many, many others.
I wasn’t sure I could read this, Tal. But I’m glad I did. You helped me understand the meaning of being called to a place, which helped me understand my feelings of place. Thank you.
Wow, Dawn, I think that’s important for all of us to really ponder more deeply—what does place mean to me? It’s a question each of us could approach with the same level of curiosity you demonstrated here. I always value what you bring to this space, Dawn. Thank you.
I have a visceral reaction here that is a little tough to put into the right words. I am a non-Jew (who didn’t know she wasn’t Jewish) who grew up in Israel, so I know the environment and the culture intimately. I also recognise a lot of the Holocaust trauma that is very much present in Jewish/Israeli society. And fear of antisemitism. All of which is so understandable. But I do feel that this trauma/ fear guides a lot of the politics, which is not always healthy. I stand firmly with Israel’s right to exist. I stand firmly against racism and antisemitism of any kind. But the kind of ownership you feel to this land is the same ownership that our Palestinian brothers feel, who were born on this land and have lived there for generations and generations, and our Palestinian brothers who were forced to leave this land and have “no right of return”. As someone who has benefited from this right of return when my mother lied that we were Jewish (I was too young to know what was happening), I have a real problem with this (which is why I left Israel). One does not cancel the other. I think both people have a right to this land and right of return to this land. The only way I see the fighting stop is not when one group of people defeats the other, but when both people recognise each other’s right of existence side by side, peacefully. This is what I am fighting for. As much as I can, remotely, for the sake of my daughters and a more compassionate future, with nothing but words. (I never made a very good soldier in the IDF…)
Thanks for adding texture and context here, Imola. I know my friend well, and they would not disagree with your statement about the right for Palestinians to peacefully share the land. This is simply their story, and I wanted them to have the agency to share it in a way that was true to their experience. I felt a responsibility to honor that. So there, of course, is always a lot more to every story and there are always two sides. We worked on this essay for months to get it to a place where the political was mostly removed and where their lived experience remained. I hope I did that justice here. I do appreciate - always - the heart and thoughtfulness with which you bring to these conversations. I always incorporate what I learn from you (and others) into my understanding of humanity. Sending love.
I know lovely. As I said, one story and one angle does not cancel another angle. There is room for many stories and perspectives! In fact, there should be more of them, not less. And we should hear them all out, as tough as they may be. I think this is actually the key to understanding our shared humanity. You know I could say so much more about this, but I’ll stop here. I hope you know my comment was written from a place of love (always!), even if I phrased it clumsily. It’s just that this “right of return thing” feels so personal to me. Why do I have full citizenship rights in à country I wasn’t born into, why my Palestinian friend’s family cannot return to their land? It seems so unjust to me. Sending much love back to you, and your friend. Just so you know, I also completely understand where she’s coming from.
I hear you, friend, and I do not think your remark was clumsy at all. I know your heart and I also know a bit of your background, so the way I read your comment was that you were adding texture to the conversation. It’s nuanced, as most things are, and I welcome your viewpoint, because you are so thoughtful and considerate. Asking questions is needed, especially when they are asked respectfully, as you have done here. :)
Thank you Jeannie and Imola and to the author who bravely and honestly presented her story here. Such a complicated story to read as unfortunately the modern day Israel story is deeply steeped in politics whether we like it or not.
I am not Jewish but have been interested in Judaism and Israel (when it came about) most of my life. My best friends growing up were Jewish and they often allowed me to participate in their holidays and rituals. Their parents were concentration camp survivors and they shared their stories with me. As a young adult and new parent I taught in a school run by a local synagogue. When my children were young we celebrated Jewish and Christian holidays. Later in life as a social worker I had the privilege of working with more survivors and/or the adult children of survivors. I respect each person’s right to make religious and cultural choices. Friends have moved to Israel.
I do believe that we literally carry in our biology as well as our psyche the scars and joys from the accumulation of our personal and family and tribal as well as global stories. I also believe that when we truly listen we often hear a longing to return to “home” whatever that may be for each of us. I am thankful that those who wish to do so can return to their “home”. I feel that everyone should have that opportunity (literally or metaphorically).
Imola, I agree with you, (with great respect for the Israeli people) that Palestinians also see this geographical area as their home and the heart of so much of their culture and heritage and I feel they should also be allowed to be “home”.
The author presented here speaks of the ability to be with like minded people sharing Judaism together as an important element of feeling at home (in Israel). For many of us we are able to experience that feeling within smaller communities, including churches and other forms of sacred spaces vs a protected geographical area. Given the long history of persecution and attempts to annihilate Jewish people I also understand why they feel the need to have a protected (sacred) space.
Such a difficult topic and I apologize ahead of time for any gaffs I may have made while responding here. Please know I come from a place of peace and love for all people and their needs. Greater minds than mine will have to figure out a peaceful path for all of us.
Again, thanks to everyone for sharing and raising this topic as it is complicated but so important to us all - even non Jewish people.
I really appreciate your thoughtful comment, Sylvia, and it certainly does add more context to the situation, just like Imola’s did. It means a lot to me when people can engage in respectful discourse like both of you have done, because I know that means we are all capable of civilized conversations about often painful and polarizing topics and situations.
Both you and Imola have shown me that the people drawn to my Substack space are kind and emotionally safe. That’s what I want to cultivate here, and I’m so grateful for both of you and what you bring to this conversation.
Thank you Jeannie and thank you for cultivating and holding this safe place for us. There are very few sites where I would feel free to share what I did here.
Well, I am deeply humbled and grateful that you have found a safe, soft landing place in my little corner of Substack, Sylvia. It’s really important to me to provide that, especially since the rest of the world—digitally and otherwise—is so unstable and uncertain.
Hi, Jeannie! This was a powerful and deeply human reflection. I appreciate how Tal names identity not as an abstract idea, but as something lived, carried, and sometimes defended in quiet ways.
The tension between visibility and safety comes through clearly, and it invites us readers to sit with complexity rather than reduce it. Thank you for sharing a story that asks for empathy and courage at the same time. Amazing piece!
Jessica, I’m so grateful you stopped by to read this today. It’s great to have your voice in this space, especially after our recent connection! I think people living complex lives more fully appreciate the nuances, as in the case of my friend who shared this story here, rather than reducing humanity into containers and labels. I’m deeply appreciative you can see through that lens.
One thing I appreciated was how you allowed contradiction to stay present. Love for a land alongside awareness of other people’s longing for the same ground. History braided with immediacy. Inheritance meeting responsibility.
There’s a temptation in conversations like this to tidy everything up, to make a moral diagram where everyone knows where to stand. This didn’t do that. It let the discomfort breathe. It let belonging feel both rooted and costly.
I don’t agree or disagree so much as I recognize the honesty of not pretending this story has a clean edge. That recognition feels rare, and valuable. Thank you for sharing with such authenticity and care. 🧡
Thank you, Alex. I feel relieved that you understand the complexity in my friend's story. We worked on it for a long time. There's so much history, so much generational trauma, and so much that contributes to what identity means to my friend. But, of course, you know quite extensively about identity and how complicated it can be.
So it means a lot that you took time with this and allowed my friend's story to simply be what it was - one version of one person's lived experience that exists alongside many, many others.
I wasn’t sure I could read this, Tal. But I’m glad I did. You helped me understand the meaning of being called to a place, which helped me understand my feelings of place. Thank you.
Wow, Dawn, I think that’s important for all of us to really ponder more deeply—what does place mean to me? It’s a question each of us could approach with the same level of curiosity you demonstrated here. I always value what you bring to this space, Dawn. Thank you.
Thank you, Jeannie!
Always, friend.
Thank you, Tal Asher, for sharing your story with us. It takes courage to put ourselves out there publicly as you have, and I’m grateful to you.
Thanks for this kind comment, Heather, and for reading.
Thanks for sharing Tal Asher's story, Jeannie.
Thanks for reading, Terry.
I have a visceral reaction here that is a little tough to put into the right words. I am a non-Jew (who didn’t know she wasn’t Jewish) who grew up in Israel, so I know the environment and the culture intimately. I also recognise a lot of the Holocaust trauma that is very much present in Jewish/Israeli society. And fear of antisemitism. All of which is so understandable. But I do feel that this trauma/ fear guides a lot of the politics, which is not always healthy. I stand firmly with Israel’s right to exist. I stand firmly against racism and antisemitism of any kind. But the kind of ownership you feel to this land is the same ownership that our Palestinian brothers feel, who were born on this land and have lived there for generations and generations, and our Palestinian brothers who were forced to leave this land and have “no right of return”. As someone who has benefited from this right of return when my mother lied that we were Jewish (I was too young to know what was happening), I have a real problem with this (which is why I left Israel). One does not cancel the other. I think both people have a right to this land and right of return to this land. The only way I see the fighting stop is not when one group of people defeats the other, but when both people recognise each other’s right of existence side by side, peacefully. This is what I am fighting for. As much as I can, remotely, for the sake of my daughters and a more compassionate future, with nothing but words. (I never made a very good soldier in the IDF…)
Thanks for adding texture and context here, Imola. I know my friend well, and they would not disagree with your statement about the right for Palestinians to peacefully share the land. This is simply their story, and I wanted them to have the agency to share it in a way that was true to their experience. I felt a responsibility to honor that. So there, of course, is always a lot more to every story and there are always two sides. We worked on this essay for months to get it to a place where the political was mostly removed and where their lived experience remained. I hope I did that justice here. I do appreciate - always - the heart and thoughtfulness with which you bring to these conversations. I always incorporate what I learn from you (and others) into my understanding of humanity. Sending love.
I know lovely. As I said, one story and one angle does not cancel another angle. There is room for many stories and perspectives! In fact, there should be more of them, not less. And we should hear them all out, as tough as they may be. I think this is actually the key to understanding our shared humanity. You know I could say so much more about this, but I’ll stop here. I hope you know my comment was written from a place of love (always!), even if I phrased it clumsily. It’s just that this “right of return thing” feels so personal to me. Why do I have full citizenship rights in à country I wasn’t born into, why my Palestinian friend’s family cannot return to their land? It seems so unjust to me. Sending much love back to you, and your friend. Just so you know, I also completely understand where she’s coming from.
I hear you, friend, and I do not think your remark was clumsy at all. I know your heart and I also know a bit of your background, so the way I read your comment was that you were adding texture to the conversation. It’s nuanced, as most things are, and I welcome your viewpoint, because you are so thoughtful and considerate. Asking questions is needed, especially when they are asked respectfully, as you have done here. :)