Outside-In

It was a shoe-fit, glove-fit moment when a guest on my show called me an “Outside- Insider.” I had just returned to South Africa from Israel, where we had celebrated the wedding of my son. Although I was the interviewer, my guest had asked me my impressions of the experience.

There was no judgement attached to her description. It was merely a way to try and capture what many of us have struggled to identify; Jews and Zionists who reside in the diaspora, and who since October 7th live off news and information about Israel, as though it’s oxygen.

We are the Jews who didn’t sleep the night that Iran attacked Israel, who send “are you all ok” messages every time a siren sounds anywhere near our children who live in Israel, and who check our phones the moment that shabbat ends for news of the hostages, of the deal, and of God forbid another attack.

We are Jews who after 500 days of this war are still shocked by the heat of the hatred that had steamed just beneath the surface. And that had exploded with such force following October the 7th that it took our breath away. We are Jews who still struggle to breath.

And we are the Jews who have never felt more connected to Israel than we do today.

When my son announced his engagement at the end of November 2024, we discussed wedding dates. We, along with several family and friends would have to travel to Israel. His fiancé had also made aliya alone from the USA, which meant that her parents and family would need to do the same. Both sets of parents preferred a wedding a few months later.

I mentioned that to him.

“Dad,” he responded, “If we have learned anything in Israel, it’s that we don’t delay simcha.”

Wise (and sad) words from one so young. But words that are not easy to refute.

Which meant that per the couple’s request, the wedding took place in early February. Because indeed simcha is not to be delayed.

The celebration was intense. And magnificent. It was a moment of pure joy, and I got the feeling that there exists in Israel some form of social contract that stipulated that for a few hours at least, pain is left at the door. That doesn’t mean that the plight of the hostages, the soldiers and the situation is ignored, and not part of the fabric of the event itself, but the focus is on celebrating the hell out of the opportunity.

Because a wedding of two young people who have left their families to come to live in Israel, with all that entails, is a victory worthy of celebration.

Outside of the wedding, I observed a nation of care. I noticed people saying “shabbat shalom” to each other when they passed one another on the streets. And I found that a subtle gentleness had crept into interactions. As though it was understood that no one is without pain. And as though each has “Fragile – handle with care” written on their foreheads.

To be a vocal Zionist in South Africa has its challenges. And where it often means being “cancelled”, threatened and abused, a short trip to Israel is all that is needed to remind me why it is a privilege to take on the role, even as an outside-insider.