Leave us be
In Israel, on the evening of 7 October 2024, there were two events marking 7 October 2023: a live “alternative” event organized by many of the families and organizations actively advocating the return of our captives; and a pre-recorded event organized by the State under the management of the Minister of Transport, Miri Regev.
My wife and I chose not to watch the State-produced event. During much of the ceremony, if to call it that, we were weeping. We were brought into a rarefied experience that I found quite spiritual: words, song and performance coalesced, and potential observers, consumers of “meaningful’ media sitting at home immediately became one of a vast community. At least we did. It was an extraordinary experience of great power.
And I wondered why my government insisted on making its own statement. I can’t comment on the effect of their recorded event. I can only wonder at it’s not being live, nor presented to a live audience, nor understand why it was produced at all? Why not leave this vast community to broadcast its own sensibilities?
And this poured out at first as prose, but then, with too many inferences and double meanings and alternative rhythms, as … something else.
Leave us be
You didn’t have the courage
for our people to scream and cry and pray and hope in our own way.
Did you hear?
You haven’t the courage.
Shame. Shame on you. You shame us.
If you, you, seek courage,
true and truly
look
listen
to those who stood up to speak for us to sing for us this evening,
of their
of our
loss
of their agony
of our heartbreak
of their
of our
hope.
It was a struggle,
a call, a prayer, a scream,
adding to our people’s traditions,
A moment
Forever.
Perhaps bless them, perhaps bless us,
Perhaps ask for our forgiveness,
Seek תשובה,
and finally, finally,
leave us be
in peace.