By Matt Golden
Director, Jewish Community Relations Council
Jewish Community Relations Council Director Matt Golden
Over the past 40 days or so, I have had the opportunity to be in a lot of places. I have attended gatherings and I have spoken to groups. I have given talks on the Israel-Hamas war to everyone from 6th graders to members of senior lunch programs. I have met with students and administrators to respond to issues at schools and universities that have arisen in the wake of October 7. I’ve worked to address community desires for information, for inclusion and gathering. I say this only to let you know that in the last 40 days or so, I’ve talked to a lot of people.
As much as I can, I try to ask people, “How are you doing right now?” The responses are as individual as the individuals I talk to: Rage, fear, and despair. Arrogance. Vindication. Longing, loneliness and disconnection. Hope, bravery and a renewed sense of identity. Some responses give me hope for humanity; others do not. But there is no “one” perspective, just a rawness of feeling and a willingness to share.
The children I have talked to seem to be feeling it the worst. I spoke with a college kid who doesn’t understand why her friends from other affinity groups won’t talk to her. I spoke to a Jewish peacenik high school kid whose classmate from a different religion likes to show her videos from TikTok and then blame her for what the Jews are doing. Many of the kids I spoke to were intimately aware of what is happening at other high schools and colleges across the country and are in fear that their school will be next. They are doom-scrolling.
But the strangest encounter I had was while serving as a panelist at a local church that hosted a discussion about the war. The audience was decidedly pro-Palestinian and included some Hamas apologists. When one of the panelists began by stating that most of the atrocities “claimed” by the Israelis were false and made up, the crowd responded with applause. Specifically, according to this panelist, no babies were harmed, no one was raped, and most of the casualties were soldiers, not civilians. Deaths were the product of the IDF, not Hamas. After the clapping subsided, my colleague and I, both of whom knew civilians killed in the massacre, pushed back on that narrative. We explained that denying anyone’s trauma in this moment damages any attempt for a meaningful peace. To no avail. I must admit that the clapping surprised me.
At the end of the panel discussion, we were asked to stay around and answer questions. A Christian woman from the church and her husband came up to me. She did not have a question. She demanded that I join her in calling for a ceasefire in Gaza. I responded by explaining that Qatar’s efforts to have a five-day pause with a return of hostages could turn into a meaningful step toward an end to the deaths of civilians.
She scoffed and said, “That’s just like you people. You’re losing your mojo.”
“What do you mean by ‘you people’ and ‘mojo,’” I asked? “By ‘you people,’ you mean Jews, don’t you?”
She said, “I mean you’re a Zionist and your propaganda’s not working anymore. You’ll see,” she said, ominously. She and her husband walked away without answering me. While only a couple people were around to hear her, I’m sure her statements would have likely drawn applause. I did not need to ask her how she was doing right now, she told me.
So, why did I go to such a place?
In 1263, the most preeminent scholar of his time, a Rabbi named Nachmanides was ordered by King James of Aragon to attend the Disputation of Barcelona. His command from the King: defend Judaism in the face of Christianity in a “trial.” The Church Court would be on hand to decide who was “right” between the two religions. The only thing the Rabbi demanded was the freedom to speak freely. The arguments lasted for five days. Amazingly, at the end of the “trial” the King awarded the Rabbi a prize, saying he “defended an unjust cause nobly.” Not surprisingly, however, the Dominican Order claimed victory and Nachmanides’s wish to speak freely didn’t last very long. The next month, the Rabbi was forced by the King to leave his home in Spain, never to return. The good news is that he moved to Jerusalem and founded the Rambam synagogue, the second oldest synagogue still active in Israel.
I am no Nachmanides, as most of you who know me will attest. But I bring this moment of history forward for a particular reason, because there is something this 13th=century Rabbi said during the Disputation that should be foremost in our mind 800 years later. He spoke about the power of intractability and the expectation that everyone will see things your way. “If you have listened all your life [to those] who have filled your brain and the marrow of your bones with [a] doctrine, it has settled into you because of that accustomed habit.” In short, not everyone sees the world as we might. We have to remember that fact — even as we hear people clapping at the sound of the denial of atrocities.
What did I learn most from serving on this panel? That indoctrinated people—of any side—will never find a new solution to an old problem. They will resort to what is in the “marrow of their bones.” There is never a space to ask the question of “how are you doing right now,” only enough room to hear the applause from an echo chamber. In that failure, divisions can only grow wider.
You will never find me excusing Hamas and the allies that allowed them to murder, rape and kidnap. That is in my marrow. But if there was ever an opportunity to figure out a peace, it is right now. Let’s come up with a plan.
Matt Golden is a lawyer and the Director of the Jewish Community Relations Council. In his opinion, the JCRC is the most august body in the Jewish Community, seeking justice and doing tikkun olam. He is admittedly very partial and biased in this regard. He invites comments, suggestions or good stories at mgolden@jewishlouisville.org.