And So I Write

I have been told to stop writing—that it is pointless, mere folly and hubris to believe that anyone would be interested in my work. Yet I write nonetheless. Not because I disagree, but because I know of no other way to cope; no other way to ease the weight of the yoke atop me. 

I write of Jewish pain and suffering, of exile and despair. Yet I also write of resilience and hope, of strength and meaning. A story is unfolding—a story unlike any other—but it can only be read by those who seek it. It is easy to be consumed by the price of milk or the latest iPhone, to drift through life unaware of the grander context, blind to the song of history being sung by all of creation. 

But history is not silent. A great tale is being woven, and the Jewish people stand at its center. A nation so small, so numerically insignificant, yet one that has shaped the very course of humanity. No other people have so profoundly influenced the cultural, religious, moral, and scientific heritage of the world.

And so I write. Because the story must be told. 

I have been told to stop writing about such painful subjects, that these topics cause discomfort. Yet I write nonetheless. For if I do not pour out my soul onto paper, who will? Who else will interpret the fine story being told? The story of a nation twice killed and twice resurrected. The story of a nation hated and persecuted for its message to the world, yet imitated, its wisdom stolen, and its legacy claimed by others while its people are cast aside. A people who, after two thousand years of death, hate, and suffering, rose from the ashes and built a light to guide the way for all of humanity.

How could I stay silent? And so I write, because the story must be told. 

I too have seen the affliction of my people: the rapes and murders of October 7, the smoke rising from German chimneys, the rivers of blood flowing throughout two thousand years of exile. I have seen our suffering, felt the weight of our grief. And yet, even through the tears, I cannot look away from the glory and dignity of the Jewish people.

A people who refused to surrender to despair. A people who rose against their enemies with vengeance in their eyes. A people who built something out of nothing, who turned ruin into renewal. That is the story being woven: A story of an entire people shouldering the burden of humanity’s sins, enduring endless hatred, yet single-handedly advancing the human race—receiving nothing but scorn in return.

It is easy to be consumed by darkness. But adversity is the soil from which innovation and revolution grow. That is why I write—so I may remind myself of the great story our suffering belongs to. For in the end, from pain, the Jewish people have always forged greatness.