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Dovi Seldowitz

Our Crisis Must Be Given a Name

Here in Australia, the Jewish community is having a moment. Like all other communities in the Diaspora, we have witnessed the dramatic rise of troubling incidents in the weeks and months following the devastation that occurred on Simchat Torah 5784. Synagogues have been damaged and defaced. Jewish businesses, leaders, and ordinary individuals have been targeted and harassed in vile and ugly ways. For many in the community, the firebombing of the Adass shul in Melbourne was the final straw. Enough was enough, we declared. We wanted to see action, not empty words. But the attacks did not stop, and the list of troubling incidents grows with each passing day. Certainly, with the help of Heaven and the increased response from our dedicated law enforcement, we expect this wave of hate to decline very soon. But what guarantee do we have that such a crisis will not repeat itself in the near future? We have to stop thinking in terms of isolated incidents and instead treat the infected system.

As I think of the future and the lessons we will soon be teaching others about this time, I am struck by the fact that this crisis is lacking something fundamental: a name.

There is a striking scene at the start of Genesis where the first human awakens to a world entirely at their disposal. Right away, they are given a task: to name each of the creatures they encounter. According to Jewish tradition, providing a name is no simple task. Naming is a powerful act of recognition and formation. It simultaneously reflects and shapes the identity, meaning, and purpose of that which is named. This is why we must name the crisis we are facing. Without a name, we are at the mercy of others to interpret and frame our experiences. If no one names this crisis, our neighbours will soon forget this moment in time, retaining only a vague recollection that something very un-Australian happened once to their Jewish friends. But the details will escape them. And if we allow those who do not care for the thriving of the Jewish people to choose a name for our moment of pain and suffering, they will choose a name that minimises its meaning. We have already seen this sleight of hand at play with the pathological insistence that all attacks against Jews must be juxtaposed with incidents impacting others. If the Jewish people choose a name for this moment, it will be anchored in time and remembered in years to come. And hopefully, we can use the memory of this event to ensure the right lessons are taught in the future.

I am certain this moment needs a name, but I am unsure what to call this crisis. Here are a few possibilities. The first is audacious. It evokes the memory of the Shoah and might only work as a term if certain aspects of the crisis are highlighted. We might also have to rely on collecting verifiable information across the Diaspora to ensure people understand that this term is not hyperbole. The name I have in mind is Kristallyahr. Together with our brothers and sisters overseas, Australian Jews have experienced over a year (yahr) of significant incidents involving attacks on synagogues, Jewish homes, and businesses, in ways that appear as a slow-moving Kristallnacht. It is a heavy term, but I do not think it is unwarranted.

Another choice is Shanah Hashechorah, which is an adaptation of one of the Hebrew terms for October 7 (Shabbat Hashechorah). This term ties the Australian and Diaspora experience directly to the experience of our brothers and sisters in the Holy Land. The advantage of a Hebrew term is its universal comprehension to all Jewish communities, but it also sounds somewhat generic. A third option is to adopt an English descriptive name such as the Post-October 7 Crisis, which is comprehensible to our neighbours. The term is neutral sounding, but it also feels sterile. Perhaps it can be useful for those who feel hesitant using explicitly Jewish terminology when communicating in general settings. While I understand the appeal of accessibility to wider English-speaking audiences, I worry that this approach diminishes the uniquely Jewish nature of the crisis. It risks allowing the moment to dissolve into generality rather than grounding it in our particular story.

Yet naming our suffering is only half the task. Just as our hardships deserve a name, so too must we name moments of salvation. We must find a turning point in this crisis that we can point to and declare as the moment of changing tides. We must not merely observe and commemorate our resilience through this trying moment; we must declare that we will experience a moment of light, joy, gladness, and honour, just as our ancestors did long ago. We will transform fear into pride, mourning into celebration.

Consider the following suggestions: Purim Australia. There is a rich Jewish tradition of naming special moments of salvation as a mini-holiday, declared as a “Second Purim.” There are over two dozen such cases in Jewish history where a local holiday was declared (see the Jewish Encyclopedia article on Special Purims). In the modern age, we may choose any way to celebrate such a day. But the naming of a holiday will reframe this entire experience as a celebration of Jewish survival. This day could also be named Australian Jewish Pride Day, a modern and accessible name that centres on the dignity, courage, and pride of the Jewish people. Certainly, other Diaspora communities may adapt the idea as they see fit.

As the old joke goes, the definition of an antisemite is someone who hates Jews more than is absolutely necessary. And our community has endured much more than the hatred that is absolutely necessary. But we are still here, and we are still standing. By naming our crisis, we ensure that it will not be forgotten. And if we can think audaciously, we should declare a holiday to mark our salvation. We must ensure that it will be celebrated with pride, pomp, and circumstance. May we soon see and hear of good tidings in our community, in Jewish communities everywhere around the world, and in the Land of Israel.

About the Author
Dovi Seldowitz is a PhD student (Sociology) at the University of New South Wales in Sydney, Australia. Previously, Dovi directed and curated the 2022 B’nai B’rith Kabbalah Exhibition and was the recipient of the UNSW University Medal in Sociology and Anthropology for his Honours thesis on Hasidic women’s leadership.
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