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[lostthenfoundmyself]

There’s been a distinct shift in how leftist Jew haters are starting to express their Jew hatred and it’s… very back to the old days, to put it lightly. It’s two specific things that I’ve seen. The more moderate stance of ‘it’s so terrible that the bad Jews are playing into Jew hating canards, how dare they!!’ which, just… ugh. And then you have the extremes, the ones who say ‘yeah, I hate Jews, but it’s their fault because of them being the scum of humanity’, it’s the ‘Hitler hated Jews for shit they didn’t do but I hate Jews for shit they did do!’ (a direct quote taken from someone who I can only describe as completely deranged)

And, honestly, seeing this shift has kind of broken me

At this point, there is no denial left. There is no going back. The pretences are starting to be dropped, people are becoming more and more comfortable with their Jew hatred being about Jews, and they’ve realised that it’s acceptable to say that out loud. All they need to do is say it’s our fault, and they get a free pass. We are fully back in the nineteenth century, all we’re missing is the ‘no dogs, no Jews’ signs (oh wait— what’s that about a bar in America banning all (((Zionists)))?) and the pogroms that go with it (oh no, what’s that about Russia, Dagestan, an airport, and a hotel?). We’re back in mid twentieth century Iran, where Jews are stuck between a country not yet legally aggressive to us, and all of the people in said country who want us dead

I don’t think things in the west are at the level of nineteenth century Europe yet, just in the style. But I’m also smart, I’m also connected to my history. My safta left Iran in 1951, at the age of ten, because her family saw what was happening. Ninety thousand other Jews in Iran saw it too. They caught on and they left. And then two decades later the revolution happened, and now our family can’t even visit without being executed. Many Jews have convinced themselves that we’ve assimilated, that were just like everyone else, that were safe. But we’re not safe. We are a people who have been persecuted and expelled and massacred for over two thousand years, it’s not going to suddenly stop now. And now that the people who are supposed to be fighting to keep us safe have started killing us, we have nobody but each other

I don’t think everyone should pack up and leave their countries right now. But I do think you should have a suitcase ready

[lostthenfoundmyself]

You do realize that breaking into and occupying an administrative building while destroying property and wearing costumes is exactly what the rioters did on the January 6th attempted insurrection, right? Naming specific governing officers they hate, saying they “can’t hide,” claiming they’re justified because they’re the good guys fighting against the evil people in power.

The January 6th rioters were crazy because what they did was crazy. Not just because they thought Trump won the election.

I get that it’s university government buildings rather than US government buildings, but it’s a really, really clear echo. These protestors are not better just because you think they’re right.

[lostthenfoundmyself]

Rabbis from the US and Israel marched towards the Erez crossing carrying symbolic aid for Gaza and calling to end the war. The police blocked them a few hundred meters from the border, and arrested 7 protesters. source

[lostthenfoundmyself]

anytime i hear another jew say they're afraid to be visibly jewish even though they want to it makes me even more jewish. come here and hold my hand, we can do this together. it's a little less scary when you have a friend with you

[lostthenfoundmyself]

Great. According to many protestors, Iran is a hero. I’m genuinely curious if any of them will put their lives where their mouths are and take this offer. I suspect not, but if someone did, it would certainly be a wake-up call.

Image Source: CNN

[lostthenfoundmyself]

So. I kept kosher for Passover for the first time.

Or…mostly kosher. I didn’t boil my water bottle and I ate fruit off a non-kosher plate once because I was super hungry. But the actual food I ate was kosher for Passover.

It was certainly an experience. I met a lot more Jewish students through the k4p meals at Hillel, which was nice. It felt really good to have an environment where I could speak honestly about certain things. And it definitely made me feel more connected to my Jewish heritage.

But also, lettuce and grapes are, sadly, not an actual dinner, and that was literally the only vegetarian k4p food available one night. I can also barely stand the texture of quinoa but ended up having to eat it pretty much every day, and had some GI problems from my diet. I ended up being really hungry quite frequently. Distraction-level hunger, not I’m-gonna-faint-level hunger, but it was overall very unpleasant.

I think that as long as I’m on a meal plan, I might just eat in the regular dining halls in the future and avoid things with chametz as an obvious ingredient. When I am a full adult with the ability to buy my own food, I would like to choose kosher for Passover foods, but relying on Hillel to happen to have healthy vegetarian k4p options is hard. Good vegetarian k4p options do exist, but are unlikely to be present in a very small meal plan for a limited number of students.

Still, regardless of what I do in the future, I’m glad I did this at least once. I learned more about Judaism, myself, and the Jewish community at my college, which was nice.

[lostthenfoundmyself]

CEREAL

I love bagels so much, but unfortunately the ones in the dining halls are very stale. My bagel-less days shall not end with the passing of Passover.

I kept kosher during pesach for the first time in my life (im reformed and was raised to follow rules extremely loosely) and a bagel sounds like a feast rn I am so excited to eat cereal

[lostthenfoundmyself]

I use they/them on here, but I am afab and partially identify as a woman.

I personally don’t like the term. It feels kind of othering, or like some weird sort of exoticism. I would never interfere with other people who want to use the term for themselves and have others call them that, but I don’t want it used for me and I wouldn’t use it for someone else unless they explicitly said they want that.

Jewish women and folks who feel this also applies to them, I want your thoughts and opinions.

I ask this because I hold jewish women's thoughts and feelings in high regard, and am genuinely curious about their thoughts on this. I do not use this term for anybody, and do not plan to ever, this is solely to see the opinions of you all because I have seen this term defined as derogatory by plenty of sources, and I also notice some jewish women embrace jewess as a term. I am interested in the potential nuances of this conversation.

This poll is for anybody who feels it applies to them. However, please don't vote just to see the results when it doesn't apply. I'm queueing this post for after the poll has concluded, as even I won't know the results until this poll is concluded. I genuinely want to have somewhat of an idea about the diversity of jewish women's thoughts.

This poll is inclusive to jews of trans and/or intersex experience, or experiences that aren't solely in the binary womanhood sphere. Those who genuinely are in the process of becoming jews, feel free to weigh in if this applies to you. This poll will not be used to judge or shame jewish women or justify what terms you should or should not use for yourself or what terms you ought to be comfortable with. Anything that is derogatory to jewish women and their feelings is not tolerated and you will be Banished.

Feel free to share this post if you'd like. If you want to see the results but cannot vote, please queue this post, like this post, or wait for this blog to reblog this poll. I cannot emphasize this enough.

And if nobody has told you: jewish women, you are amazing. You deserve love and respect, and your thoughts matter in every conversation you are in.

[lostthenfoundmyself]

Do you know this Jewish character?

[lostthenfoundmyself]

How to Bury a Gentile

I wrote a short vaguely historical vaguely spooky ghost story about Jews and burial rites and I have to justify it existing so here it is.

“Are you the leader of the Jews?”

There was no good that ever came from that question. Rabbi Jacob stood in the doorway, one hand on the knob and the other on the frame, ready to yank it closed at a moment’s notice.

“Well, not all of the Jews.”

The man at the door made a frustrated little grunt. He was clad almost completely in dark grey clothing that seemed to fade into the shadows of the darkened street behind him. The collar of his coat was pulled up so high that it was impossible to make out more than a pair of sharp grey eyes beneath the brim of his hat, and the cloak he wore over the top of it concealed most of his body. There could be any number of guns, knives, or angry mobs hidden under there.

“But the ones in this town, yes? You are their priest, you lead prayers and weddings and so on?” the man said impatiently.

“Rabbi. Yes. I’m the rabbi, that’s correct.” Jacob said, stiffening his posture and assuming the most neutral expression he could manage. Being completely ignorant didn’t exclude someone from being completely dangerous–if anything, that heightened the risk. “What can I do for you?”

“Rabbi,” the man repeated, as if to seal it into his memory properly. One gloved hand squeezed the pommel of his walking stick. “And you preside over the funerals of your people, and perform the rites to send them to the next world?”

“Yyyyyes?” Jacob shifted his weight to his back foot, poised to slam the door in his face. This sounded unpleasantly like an opening for a death threat.

“To any of them, regardless of the sins they carried in life?” An eagerness entered the man’s voice.

“Of course. Though sin as a Jewish concept differs from the Christian…mm. Yes, of course.” The scholars of old might have debated the nature of the evil in men’s souls until the crack of dawn but Jacob had no intention of doing so at half-past midnight with a complete stranger.

The shadowed man took a half step forward and Jacob leaned back to maintain the distance between him. “What about a gentile?” the man pressed. “Would you tend to his corpse too?”

“Huh?”

“There is a man needing to be buried tonight who requires absolution. He is not a Jew, but a Jew’s prayers may be close enough for what is needed.”

“Um. It’s not usually a request I get.” Jacob tried to keep his voice calm and soothing. There was some kind of entrapment lingering in the conversation, he just knew it. That or a giant box of crazy that had managed to dress itself stylishly. Gentiles asking Jews intrusive but urgent questions never turned out well for their target–a day-long case of irritation was the best outcome the target could hope for.

The man’s hands pressed together as he completed the full step forward, making Jacob back up into the doorframe. Desperation was in his tone and Jacob was forced back over the threshold just to stay out of his grip “All I need is someone to accompany me to the cemetery to consecrate the body and pray for its soul. Barely an hour of your time. I cannot pay you with anything but my gratitude, but you will have it eternally.”

“And you came to me?”

The man sighed. Even the top hat seemed to slouch slightly as his body slumped. “I have asked every holy man in the city, Catholic and Protestant alike, and they have refused to come to the cemetery,“ he bemoaned. "The last one told me to visit you. Likely a ploy to make me leave faster, but you are all I have left.”

“What did this man do, that so many people refused him? Who was he?”

The man at the door hesitated. The sharp eyes vanished as his eyelids slid down, and then appeared a few moments later.

“Must you ask?” he said quietly. “Is it not enough that it is a corpse which can do no man harm any longer, and you will lose nothing but a half-night of sleep?”

The inside of Jacob’s head was ringing with warning bells like the frantic clanging of gongs announcing a fire. He swallowed and tried to ignore them.

“You say he wasn’t Jewish?”

“He was not…much of anything. He felt God had no interest in him, and returned a lack of interest in kind. Perhaps if he had been more attentive he wouldn’t lie in a pauper’s grave…or perhaps he would have not changed a whit.” The man’s voice was bitter and the sharp eyes briefly looked away from Jacob, to Jacob’s deep relief.

“Who was this man, to you?” he asked.

“Close. I would prefer to say no more. Please, rabbi. It must be done, and it must be tonight.”

Seminary did not prepare me for this, Jacob thought, and then thought again. There is absolutely something in the Talmud about this and I’ve just forgotten it, because I’m an idiot and I’m half asleep and there is a goy on my doorstep asking me to go out to the cemetery with him at midnight to bury a man whose name he won’t tell me.

“Look, I’ll need someone to help dig the grave.”

“Of course.”

“And a coffin. A plain pine box. And I’ll need to get my supplies from the–”

“But you’ll do it?” said the man excitedly, standing up even taller. “And do it tonight, before the cock crows?”

Jacob held up his hands to keep the man from getting even further into his personal space. “Fine. Yes. Give me half an hour and a lazy rooster.”

The cloak almost seem to inflate as the man gasped for joy. He grabbed Jacob’s hands and shook both with enthusiasm, sending Jacob stumbling. “Thank God for you, my good rabbit! Whatever God there is, thank God for you!”

The man ran off into the shadowed streets and was out of sight almost immediately.

Jacob’s hands slowly fell back to his side as he mumbled, “Rabbi,” to the darkness.

My wife is going to kill me if whatever’s at the cemetery doesn’t.

Keep reading

[lostthenfoundmyself]

Literally half the things on there are additions. Adding stuff to the Seder plate is great, go ahead, but. You don’t need four (I think? I’m not even sure what the strawberry’s supposed to be, but I’m assuming it’s another “antizionist” addition) different foods to symbolize the same thing.

Olives on the Seder plate have long been a symbol of Palestinian solidarity. It makes sense for them to have an olive. But they don’t also need garlic, acorns, and strawberry for that. And “spoon.” What is “spoon” supposed to be?

It’s like they’re trying to make a mockery of this.

This shit is so hilarious I had to reactivate this blog just to share it:

Enjoy that תסורח with your הצמ dumbasses.

[lostthenfoundmyself]

On being Jewish, and traumatized (It’s been 5 months and I want to talk):

Judaism is a joyous religion. So much of our daily practice is to focus us on the things that are good. I know that there’s a joke that all our holidays can be summed up as “they tried to kill us. We survived – let’s eat!”, and you might think that holidays focused on attempts at killing us might be somber, but they’re really not. Most are celebrated in the sense of, “we’re still here, let’s have a party!” When I think about practicing Judaism, the things I think about make me happy.

But I think a lot of non-Jews don’t necessarily see Judaism the same way. I think in part it’s because we do like to kvetch, but I think a lot of it is because from the outside it’s harder to see the joy, and very easy to see the long history of suffering that has been enacted on the Jewish people. From the inside, it’s very much, “we’re still here, let’s party” and from the outside it’s, “how many times have they tried to kill you? Why are you celebrating? They tried to KILL YOU!”

And I want to start with that because a lot of the rest of this is going to be negative. And I don’t want people to read it and wonder why I still want to be Jewish. I want to be Jewish because it makes me happy. My problem isn’t with being Jewish, it’s with how Jews are treated.

What I really wanted to write about is being Jewish and the trauma that’s involved with that right now.

First, I want to talk about Israeli Jews. I can’t say much here because I’m not Israeli, nor do I have any close friends or family that are Israeli. But if I’m going to be talking about the trauma Jews are experiencing right now, I can’t not mention the fact that Israeli Jews (and Israelis that aren’t Jewish as well, but that’s not my focus here) are dealing with massive amounts of it right now. It’s a tiny country – virtually everyone has a friend or family member that was killed or kidnapped, or knows someone who does. Thousands of rockets have been fired at Israel in the last few months – think about the fact that the Iron Dome exists and why it needs to. Terror attacks are ongoing; I feel like there’s been at least one every week since October. Thousands of people are displaced from their homes, either because of the rocket fire, or because their homes and communities were physically destroyed in the largest pogrom in recent history – the deadliest single day for Jews since the Holocaust ended. If that’s not trauma inducing, I don’t know what is.

And there is, of course, the generational trauma. And I think Jewish generational trauma is interesting because it’s so layered. Because it’s not just the result of one trauma passed down through the generations. Every 50-100 years, antisemitism intensifies, and so very frequently the people experiencing a traumatic event were already suffering from the generational trauma that their grandparents or great grandparents lived through. And those elders were holding the generational trauma from the time before that. And so on.

And because it happens so regularly, there’s always someone in the community that remembers the last time. We are never allowed the luxury of imagining that we are safe. We know what happened before, and we know that it happened again and again and again. And so we know that it only makes sense to assume it will happen in the future. The trauma response is valid. I live in America because my great grandparents lived in Russia and they knew when it was time to get the hell out in the 1900s. And the reason they knew that is because their grandparents remembered the results of the blood libels in the 1850s. How can we heal when the scar tissue keeps us safe?

I look around now and wonder if we’ll need to run. We have a plan. I repeat, my family has a plan for what to do if we need to flee the country due to religious persecution. How can that possibly be normal? And yet, all the Jewish families I know have similar plans. It is normal if you’re Jewish. Every once in a while I see someone who isn’t Jewish talk about making plans to leave because they’re LGBTQ or some other minority and the question always seems to be, “should I make a plan?” It astounds me every time. The Jewish answer is that you need to have a plan and the only question is, “when should I act?” Sometimes our Jewish friends discuss it at play dates. Where will you go? What are the triggers to leave? No one wants to go any earlier then they have to. Everyone knows what the price of holding off too long might be.

I want to keep my children safe. When do I induct them into the club? When do I let my sweet, innocent kids know that some people will hate them for being Jewish? When do I teach them the skills my parents and grandparents taught me? How to pass as white, how to pass as Christian, knowing when to keep your mouth shut about what you believe. When do I tell them about the Holocaust and teach them the game “would this person hide me?” How hard do I have to work to remind them that while you want to believe that a person would hide you, statistically, most people you know would not have? Who is this more traumatic for? Them, to learn that there is hatred in the world and it is directed at them, or me, to have to drive some of the innocence out of my own children’s eyes in order to make sure they are prepared to meet the reality of the world?

And the reality of the world is that it is FULL of antisemitism. There’s a lot of…I guess I’d call it mild antisemitism that’s always present that you just kinda learn to ignore. It’s the sort of stuff that non-Jews might not even recognize as antisemitic until you explain it to them, just little micro-aggressions that you do your best to ignore because you know that the people doing it don’t necessarily mean it, it’s just the culture we live in. It can still hurt though. I like to compare it to a bruise: you can mostly ignore it, but every once in a while something (more blatant antisemitism) will put a bit to much pressure on it and you remember that you were already hurting this whole time.

On top of the background antisemitism, there’s more intense stuff. And usually the most intense, mask off antisemitism comes from the right. This makes sense, in that a lot of right politics are essentially about hating the “other” and what are Jews if not Western civilizations oldest type of “other”? On the one hand, I’ve always been fortunate enough to live in relatively liberal areas so this sort of antisemitism has felt far away and impersonal – they hate everybody, and I’m just part of everybody. On the other hand, until recently I’ve always considered this the most dangerous source of antisemitism. This is the antisemitism that leads to hate crimes, that leads to synagogue shootings. This is the reason why my synagogue is built so that there is a long driveway before you can even see the building, and that driveway is filled with police on the high holidays. This is the reason why my husband and I were scared to hang a mezuzah in our first apartment (and second, and third). For a long time, this was the antisemitism that made me afraid.

But the left has a problem with antisemitism too. And it has always been there. Where the right hates the “other”, the left hates the “privileged/elite/oppressors.” It’s the exact same thing, just dressed up with different words. They all mean “other” and “other” means “Jew.” It hurts more coming from the left though. A lot of Jewish philosophy leans left. A lot of Jews lean left. So when the left decides to hate us, it isn’t a random stranger, it’s a friend, and it feels like a betrayal.

One of the people I follow works for Yad Vashem, and a few weeks ago she mentioned a video they have with testimonies from people who came to Israel after Kristallnacht, with an unofficial title of “The blow came from within.” The idea is that to non-German Jews, the Holocaust was something done by strangers. It was still terrible, but it is easier to bear the hate of a stranger – it’s not personal. But to German Jews, the Holocaust was a betrayal. It wasn’t done by strangers, it was done by coworkers, and neighbors and people they thought were friends. It was done by people who knew them, and still looked at them and said, “less than human.” And because of this sense of betrayal, German survivors, or Germans who managed to get out before they got rounded up, had a very different experience than other Holocaust victims.

And I feel like a lot of left leaning Jews are having a similar experience now. People that we’ve marched with or organized with, or even just mutuals that we’ve thought of as friends are now going on about how Jews are evil. They repeat antisemitic talking points from the Nazis and from the Protocols of the Elders of Zion, and when we point out that those ideas have only led to Jewish death in the past they don’t care. And if someone you thought of as a friend thinks of you this way, what do you think a stranger might think? Might do?

The Jews are fucking terrified. I’ve seen a post going around that basically wonders if this was what it was like for our ancestors – when things got bad enough to see what was coming but before it was too late to run? And we can see what’s coming. History tells us that they way people are talking and acting only leads to one place. I’m a millennial – when I was a kid the grandparents at my synagogue made sure the kids knew – this is what it looked like before, this is what you need to watch out for, this is when you need to run. I wonder where to run to. It feels like nowhere is safe.

I feel like I’ve been lucky in all this. I don’t live in Israel. I have family and acquaintances who do, but no one I’m particularly close to. Everyone I know in real life has either been sane or at least silent about all of this (the internet has been significantly worse, but when it comes to hate, the internet is always worse). I live in a relatively liberal area – there’s always been antisemitism around anyway, but it’s mostly just been swastikas on flyers, or people advocating for BDS, not anything that’s made me actually worry for my safety. But in the last 5 months there have been bomb threats at my synagogue, and just last week a kid got beat up for being Jewish at our local high school. He doesn’t want to report it. He’s worried it will make it worse.

I bought a Magen David to wear in November. At the time it seemed like the best way to fight antisemitism was to be visibly Jewish, to show that we’re just normal people like everyone else. Plus, I figured that if me being Jewish was going to be a problem for someone, then I would make it a problem right away and not waste time. I’ve worn it almost constantly since, but the one time I took it off was when I burnt my finger in December and had to go to urgent care. I didn’t think about it too much when I did it, but I thought about it for a long time after – I didn’t feel good about having made that choice.

The conclusion I came to is that the training that my elders had been so careful to instill in me kicked in. I was hurt, and scared, and the voice inside my head that sounds like my grandmother said, “don’t give them a reason to be bad to you. Fight when you’re well, but for now – survive.” It still felt cowardly, but it was also a connection to my ancestors who heeded the same voice well enough to survive. And it enrages me that that voice has been necessary in the past. And it enrages me that things are bad enough now that my instinct is that I need to hide who I am to receive appropriate medical care.

I wish I had some sort of final thought to tie this all together other than, “this sucks and I hate it,” but I really don’t. I could call for people to examine their antisemitic biases, but I’m not foolish enough to think that this will reach the people who need to do so. I could wish for a future where everything I’ve talked about here exists only in history books, and the Jewish experience is no longer tied to feeling this pain, but that’s basically wishing for the moshiach, and I’m not going to hold my breath.

I guess I’ll end it with the thought that through all of this hate and pain and fear, we’re still here. And we’re still joyful as well. As much as so many people have tried over literally THOUSANDS of years to eradicate us, I’m still here, I’m still Jewish, and being Jewish still makes me happy.

Am Yisrael Chai.

[lostthenfoundmyself]

Apparently, burnt matzah tastes like toasted vegan marshmallows. Who knew?

I have discovered this through making matzah pizza at Hillel, which was surprisingly good. Burning the matzah isn’t actually a detriment to its taste.

[lostthenfoundmyself]

Good to know that Jews Zionists aren’t people anymore.

The UN Secretary-General decided not to include Hamas on the list of sexual violence perpetrators. This decision comes despite findings in the report on Hamas’s sexual violence, which explicitly acknowledged the link between the October 7th attack and systematic and targeted sexual violence.

Artist: Ronny Gordon

TICP - The Israeli Cartoon Project

[lostthenfoundmyself]

I genuinely like matzah. Will I eat it over a bagel or lentil soup? No, because I really like bagels and lentil soup. But matzah is one of those foods I will happily eat if it’s my best option.

reblog for bigger sample size!

[lostthenfoundmyself]

I didn't grow up practicing Judaism. The first time I can remember any Jewish practices was when I was visiting a friend's house on Friday night. 

The first time I celebrated Pesach was a seder held by the campus Hillel. 

For many years, my only practice was going over to a friend's house for Shabbat eventing. 

For a year or two before the COVID pandemic started, my partner and I had been going to a fertility clinic. We're getting older, and it wasn't happening naturally. In late 2020, we became parents for the first time.   

That was a time of reflection for me. During this pandemic shutdown and those first months of motherhood, I thought about what I wanted to pass on: what traditions should I teach?

As much as I try to use reason, I often go on emotion. I went back to something beautiful, lighting the Shabbat candles. I looked up the local synagogues and made plans to go. That was a week or so before Purim. That year, by Pesach, I was learning everything I had never been taught about Judaism.   

One of those things was counting the Omer. What a simple act it was! Forty-nine days of minimal daily practice when I didn't even know how to pray my nightly prayers. I could recite the blessing and count the Omer.   

When you see my posts about the Omer, it's not just pretty. It's not just "whatever Jewish thing is current". It's me remembering my very shallow roots. 

Tonight starts the 4th day of the Omer. Come, be Jewish with me.

[lostthenfoundmyself]

I may or may not be subsisting on potatoes and free bananas.

I don’t even have matzah for some reason. Just…potatoes and bananas.