Somehow, the sun has risen and set 730 times since October 7th, 2023. Two agonizing years have passed. 

Dozens of hostages are still in captivity, both living and dead, far away from their loved ones. The devastation in Gaza continues to escalate to new nightmarish levels. Tens of thousands of Palestinians have been killed. Hundreds of thousands of Israelis rally, protest, and beseech their government’s leaders, only to be cruelly ignored, attacked, and belittled by those same leaders. Millions of people, Israeli, Palestinian, across the globe, are losing hope.

The division in our communities feels chasmic at times. Over the past two years at Keshet, we have heard from LGBTQ+ Jews who have experienced harassment and ostracism in their communities; who have been the direct targets of antisemitism; who face litmus tests and gatekeeping in once-beloved spaces because of the identities they hold; who find zero space for honest, vulnerable discourse in any of these spaces, queer or Jewish; who feel powerless in the face of the colossal losses these two years have wrought.

The difference this year is that it is all compounded by the dizzying, exhausting assault on our rights as LGBTQ+ people since the Inauguration, especially the rights of trans and nonbinary people, and the meteoric rise of authoritarianism and Christian nationalism here in the U.S.

We are living in a deeply broken world. How can we possibly move forward?

It would be so easy to lose hope.

And yet, that is the exact emotion I am striving to hold onto:

Hope.

I draw hope from the resilience of Israelis and Palestinians who refuse to believe that a better world is not possible, who refuse to accept this current reality as a permanent reality. I witnessed this resilience up close when I attended what was at that time the largest anti-war protest on Tel Aviv’s Kaplan Street in June 2024, standing behind the LGBTQ+ contingent.

I draw hope from our team at Keshet, who show up every day committed to building bridges, leaning in across difference in unwavering pursuit of that better world, a world of safety and belonging for all. I draw hope from the partnerships they forge, from the possibilities they accomplish in coalition, from the minds and hearts they change, from the deep listening and care they model.

I draw hope from the legacy of resilience and grit we inherit as LGBTQ+ Jews: from the undying hope that a better, more just world is possible and worth pursuing, even if we never get to experience it ourselves.

Each and every action we take to bring about that world breathes life into that hope.

This is the only way forward.

As the anniversary of October 7th approaches, and with a potential deal on the horizon, I hear the echo of Kaddish among my thoughts.

And I hope, with every fiber of my being, that the vision of these words will soon feel closer to our reality. 

עושה שָׁלום בִּמְרומָיו הוּא יַעֲשה שָׁלום עָלֵינוּ וְעַל כָּל יִשרָאֵל וְעַל ּכָל יֹושְבֵי ּתֵבֵל  וְאִמְרוּ אָמֵן

May the One who creates peace bring peace upon us, upon all Israel, and upon all who dwell on earth.

And let us say — and act: Amen.