The nightmare
It was just one dream. Someone was chasing her through a field. She bolted up, came to our room, tears streaming down her face, and she was scared of the bad guys. Just like that, her innocence was gone, and it has not been the same for the last two months.
On October 8, my wife and I had to tell our kids that our trip to Israel - scheduled for October 15 - would be cancelled, and that we would try to go another time. The reason? Well, we told our kids that the planes going to Israel had broken down. At the time, it was the easiest way to break bad news to our six and four year olds. For a few weeks afterwards, inadvertently mocking us for our stupid excuse, anytime our son saw a plane flying overhead, he quipped “Aba, I guess that plane isn’t going to Israel.”
A few days after we gave them this milquetoast excuse for our trip’s cancellation, we told our eldest daughter, Sarah, the real reason why we were not going to Israel: people are fighting, and it’s not safe right now. She asked if our family in Israel was safe - including her great-aunt whom she adores - and we told her that they were. But she inferred that there were some bad people, and that we would only be able to go once the fighting stopped.
That night, Sarah materialized next to our bed with tears in her eyes. She told us that she had a nightmare, that bad guys were chasing her through a field. My mind immediately went to the video footage that was released early-on, of the Nova music festival, with young Israelis running for their lives through a field.
Shit. She must have seen it on the TV at some point, as we, like so many others, just binge-watched the news in the days following 10/7. It seeped into her mind, and placed her in that field on that auspicious day. Just like that, she lost her innocence.
For six years, we told Sarah that there were no bad guys. We explained that the sounds she heard around the house after she went to bed were just us cleaning the kitchen, or me talking to clients in my office. That no one was out to hurt her, and that there were only bad guys in movies. But now, reality called our bluff. We had to tell her the truth, sooner than we wanted to, and shattered her innocent existence. There are bad guys out there, but we would do anything in our power to make sure they never hurt her. She trusts us, but she now knows the truth.
Four Sarahs
We named Sarah after her great-grandmothers. We wanted a timeless and traditional Jewish name. My wife’s grandmothers were strong women with important stories of their own, and we felt that by naming our daughter Sarah too, we would start her off on the right foot, making sure that she knew her lineage and where she came from.
The name Sarah though, is one that comes not only with a family history, but the history of a people. I’ve been thinking about this for the last several years, and there are four individual Sarahs whose stories shed light not only on Jewish history, but importantly, on the connection between the Jewish people and Israel. They are:
Sarah Imeinu;
Sarah Aaronsohn;
Sarah - a German Jew in Nazi Germany; and
Sarah, my daughter.
Sarah Imeinu (“our mother”), was Abraham’s wife (and, fun fact, his niece). She was Abraham’s steadfast partner, and took a significant leap of faith with him after he was ordered by God to go forth to the Land of Israel, which would be given to their ancestors. The commentary notes that Sarah was actually more holy than Abraham in some respects, and she represents a significant connection with the Land of Israel. It is her and her husband’s faith that tied them to the Land of Israel. When Sarah died aged 127, her husband purchased the Cave of Machpelah (Maarat Hamachpela), in which to bury her. Though it was offered to him for free, he purchased it from the then-owner so that there would be no dispute in the future as to who actually owned that property. It was the first Jewish land purchase in the Land of Israel. It formalized our bond with our land.
Sarah Aaronsohn was the first female spy of Palestine. Born in 1890 to a family of first aliya settlers from Romania, Sarah was a frontier princess. She cared deeply about her community, and about her Jewish heritage. In 1917, on a train from Constantinople to Palestine, she witnessed first-hand the Armenian Genocide. Upon her return to her home in Zichron Yaakov, she vowed, along with her family, to do whatever was needed to assist the British in defeating the Ottoman Empire during World War One. Fearing that the Ottomans would turn on Palestine’s Jewish community and do the same to them as they were doing to the Armenians, Sarah’s activism, and connection to the Land of Israel, was motivated by fear. If not for her work for the British, General Allenby may not have taken Jerusalem in December 1917, and the British may not have succeeded in forcing the Ottomans out of Palestine. Sarah died by suicide, rather than be tortured by the Ottomans, in 1917 at the age of 27.
Sarah was a Jew in Nazi Germany. By January 1, 1939, Jewish men and women had their passports invalidated, and they would need to identify themselves in a way that would permanently separate them from the rest of the German population. Jewish men were required to add “Israel” to their first names, and women had to add the name “Sarah” to theirs. This name, Sarah, now identified European Jewish women. It was a part of their identity, and it accompanied many of them as they fled Germany, some making it to Palestine, to take part in the establishment of the Jewish State. These “Sarahs” were part of the foundation of the modern State of Israel. They sought to put their past lives behind them and contribute to the next stage of Jewish survival. They fought, married, had children, sacrificed, lived, and died, in Israel.
That covers faith, fear, and foundation. So what comes next?
My Sarah represents the future. She lives just north of Toronto, attends a Jewish day school, and loves songs about the Jewish holidays. Her Hebrew is improving, she loves learning about Israel, and in fact spent some time there on a family visit when she was just 10 months old. She is proud to be Jewish, whatever that means to her at her young age. But, on 10/7, that identity changed for Sarah, and it was not her fault. It was our fault, for bringing her into a world that - guess what! - is lukewarm on Jews, and is uncomfortable with Jews being the masters of their own destiny. Somewhere, deep in her subconscious, she saw a video of Jews running scared through a field, and it stuck with her. Hopefully, it will leave her mind soon, but the world and the future she will inhabit will not allow her to forget who she is. Honestly, I hope she doesn’t.
Waking up
The last two months have been described by many as a nightmare. The events of 10/7 were of course, horrific beyond imagination, but the events since then have been unreal too. We have learned who our friends and enemies are, and know that antisemitism has always been lurking just beneath the surface. It has reared its ugly head, and it is indisputable how the world feels about the Jews.
There is lots of talk now about what the day after Hamas will look like in Gaza. How will the 2 million Palestinians be governed once their rotten leadership is finally uprooted and defeated? Will they choose a life of coexistence with their Jewish neighbour? Or continue firing rockets, destined to cut their nose to spite their face, and continue to attack Israel at their own peril? We don’t know yet.
But it is equally curious what the day after this conflict will look like in the Diaspora. Will the blatant antisemitism just be swept under the rug, until the next flare up? Will we remember or forget who spoke against and for us over the last few months? Will we frequent the same restaurants? Listen to the same music? Read the same books?
Our attachment to each other, and the Land of Israel, comes from four factors: our faith in God and our history, our fear of antisemitism (obviously, well warranted), the role we have played in the state’s foundation, and our future relationship with each other and Israel.
The day after this nightmare, we will all need to navigate these four factors, especially when it comes to our relationship with Israel. How has our connection with Israel served us in the past, what will it look like in light of the hatred we have seen emerge over the last 2+ months, and what comes next?
Tragically, we have all had our innocence shattered over the last two months. Jews around the world are living the stuff of nightmares, especially those 138 still held captive in Hamas tunnels. But like every nightmare, at some point we will open our eyes, take a deep breathe, and figure out what is real and what is imaginary. How we reckon with that nightmare, will determine how comfortable we are the next time we close our eyes.
Heartbreaking. We are reliving this nightmare. Praying for a better future and freedom for our people. Love my beautiful Sarah.