It's been a rough ride. Primarily for our brothers and sisters in Israel, but also for us, diaspora Jews.
Confronted with the vicious return of the Zionist/Jewish/Israel question (whether we're punched in the face or kicked in the back doesn't actually make the huge difference some people expect), diaspora Jewish life is probably not going back to what didn't always feel so great, but now seems to have been a pretty comfortable era up to Ten Seven. In hindsight, it really was a Golden Age of Jewish acceptance - and not just tolerance, if we are willing to pay the price of belonging.
On a deeper level, a Jewish conversation is taking place at the moment. Many of us are trying to figure out an appropriate reaction to our changing social and cultural environment. Following the closure we all experienced earlier this year, having brought back every single one of our hostages, there is now an evident desire in our communities to look back and contemplate on Jewish politics and power, sovereignty and statehood, raising questions about what we could or should have done better during that Golden Age.
From our perspective as a couple that happens to regularly meet other Jews from all over the world, it seems important to seriously engage in such thoughts, though we shouldn't lose sight of what's really important: Every parent could have always done this or that better, yet regardless of how harsh one's criticism might be, the conclusion can never be to abandon the child.
Abandoning Israel is, however, the price diaspora Jews are actually asked to pay nowadays in order to be tolerated in certain circles. This is the imposed prerequisite for redeeming ourselves from the alleged sins of our "settler colonial" parenting of a "genocidal apartheid regime".
Let us be refuseniks then. Judaism isn't a popularity contest (and since we're at best just 0.2% of the world, we couldn't afford it anyway). Refusing temptations, yet not ignoring them, has always been a part of our tradition. So let us converse openly with each other while refusing to ever abandon each other. Indeed, unconditionally. That's what Ahavat Israel or Jewish solidarity is all about, one of our 613 commandments.
So yes, it might seem a bit old-fashioned to be "that kind" of Jews, those weirdos that - if need be - are willing to not belong, in 2026. Except for us it's actually 5786, and guess what? That's not gonna change until Rosh Hashana.
Wishing you all a thoughtful end-of-year and a truly happy 5787 - God knows we deserve it.
Noa and Yoav