Tragedies

When I was 13, my grandfather, Bob Schwell z”l, passed away from an aggressive and rare form of cancer at the age of 75. It took just over a month from the moment he was diagnosed until the day he passed. It was quick and unexpected.

I recall my mother sitting shiva at my grandmother’s house. A person who came to comfort the family had approached her and said something that has stayed with me ever since: “This is sad, but it is not a tragedy.”

I’m not quite sure 13-year-old me fully understood the sentiment. At the time, I pondered the sentence and took it to mean that my grandfather had led a fuller life than anyone I had ever met, left behind a legacy of volunteering, kindness and love, and though he was taken from us far sooner than we had wished for, his 75 years were bursting with life. I took it to mean that, while any age may be too young to lose a parent, chances are good that my mother, strong as she is, would learn both to grieve and find happiness again.

This was sad, I told myself when I myself was grieving; sad, but not a tragedy. We had him in our lives for so many years, we ought to be grateful for what we were given.

In the interim years, I was left with the question: What IS tragedy?

In the immediate aftermath of October 7th, I was drowning in an endless cycle of heartbreak, like so many of us. This must be it, I thought, as I read of some 1,200 innocents murdered, some of whom were raped and left to die at a peace music festival. This must be it, I repeated as I read of whole families burned alive in their homes, parents being executed in front of their children, RPGs obliterating ambulances full of the helpless injured. This is tragedy, I thought, as I read of the remnants of a baby found among the ashes of a family that was no more.

A year has passed, the numbness of a long year of constant war has settled in, and still, out of the haze, more tragedies seem to unfold. Eight soldiers in an armored personnel carrier killed by explosives, three hostages accidently killed by friendly fire, 12 Druze children who never returned to their parents from the soccer field. Twenty-one soldiers killed in a collapsing building in the highest casualty tragedy since the beginning of the war. Six hostages, who survived the hell of the terror dungeons for 11 months, only to be reached by our brave soldiers just hours too late to save their lives.

The meaning of tragedy seems to shift and twist to accommodate more pain with each new day that passes. And yet, I am left with the feeling there is another tragedy through all of this; we as a people have lost faith in each other, in our political and military leaders, in our unity. At a time such as this, losing sight of how we must stand together against our true enemies – of which, unfortunately, we have many – is yet another downfall. Watching our country steadily revert back towards the deep nationwide division we experienced in the months leading up to October 7^th last year, I am heartbroken to see the rise in violence as a form of protest.

Demonizing our own will not bring our hostages back. Rioting violently and setting tires on fire will not protect our sons and daughters and spouses fighting on the frontline of this war. Spreading hate among our own people, against our own people, is not the way to victory.

We must stand together; we must find a way to put our differences aside before we are left with a gap too wide to bridge.

It is especially on days like this when I miss the calming presence of my grandfather. He was a peacemaker in his nature, always helping us kids work out our disagreements in ways that left us all satisfied.

I will close with a sentiment of his: we should have very little tolerance for intolerance. The beauty of Israel is in its diversity, and a country with such a wide spectrum of backgrounds, religious and political beliefs must learn that there will never be just one answer or just one truth.

Today is the day to show more kindness to one another, to hear out each other’s arguments while understanding they do not cancel out our own, and to regain our faith in knowing we are all striving towards the same thing – the urgent return of our hostages and a safer future for us all.  It is a new year, and now is the time to begin repairing all that we unraveled.