On Wednesday night, as the news broke of a massive terror attack threat on the Sydney Jewish community with a synagogue as a likely target, I began to feel real fear in a way I have never felt before.
I have certainly been afraid before – growing up in Johannesburg and being surrounded by a pack of kids because I was a “bloody Jew”, being jostled and intimidated by a group of young men on the streets of Melbourne city in the 1990’s because of my kippah; or feeling it vicariously when hearing about the terror of my mother and her siblings being chased through her Lithuanian neighbourhood by a group of pursuers who threw acid at the seven year old Jewish girl who couldn’t run fast enough to escape them. I had nightmares when reliving the sheer horror of my Dad’s family being shot and murdered as they tried to flee their Nazi pursuers. But I was always able to find comfort in the strong ‘Never Again’ reassurance, the soothing consolation of living in a free society with the full protection of the law. Today that feels like false comfort. Today I fear for my family, my community, my people, the Australian nation.
For the past fifteen months the Jews of Australia have been on a rollercoaster of emotions from disbelief, to shock and anger, at the naked and brazen antisemitism on our streets, the attacks on our sacred places, the unending sewer of anti-Jewish hatred racing and raging like a black and muddy river through our social media. We are severely shaken and ineffably saddened that this land of long dreams has become a country and landscape of nightmares for our Holocaust survivors, for our kids who wonder why they have armed guards and graffiti at their school gates, and security barriers outside their synagogues. My family in Israel – a country at war – worry for our safety.
Apparently it took the burning of a synagogue and the attack on a childcare centre to wake our federal government to the wildfire that has been burning, virtually unchecked, for well over a year. How many times did we have to call fire before our voices were heard? You could say that the chilling news on Wednesday night was as predictable as it was terrifying, but at least there is some concerted action now.
As a liberal and “lefty” rabbi I have always vigorously defended freedom of speech and the right to protest as fundamental for our democratic country. Yet, after months of relentless protests in our CBD, often with vile and violent signage and hateful speech directed at Israel and Zionists; meaning the majority of Australian Jews who identify with Israel (even if a proportion are critical of its policies and devastated by the human cost of the terrible war), I say enough is enough. Even if many protesters are noble in their motivation, they need to take a long and hard look at the unintended consequences of their outrage on the social cohesion of our country and the safety and welfare of their fellow Jewish citizens. I don’t dare to go to the city, and certainly in the vicinity of the protests on a Sunday, because I know my kippah could attract the aggression of some individuals. This has been the experience of a good number of Jewish men both in the city and on university campuses.
The anti -Jewish hatred in our country may not be a direct result of the protests, but they do feed into the escalation and normalisation of antisemitism. It’s time for a ceasefire in our cities. If they can do it in Israel and Gaza, surely we can do it here – and not only in our CBD’s, but in our synagogues and mosques.
Despite the fracturing of Jewish-Muslim relationships in Australia (as well as across the world), I still believe that we, the children of Abraham, can and must find a way of living in harmony with one another. And I know I am not alone and that some moderate Muslim leaders and imams, like their Jewish counterparts across this country, are working to achieve this. I just wish I could say with conviction that this is what is being conveyed at Friday prayers and in Muslim schools, and at all our Shabbat services and Jewish schools.
I am afraid, but I am neither intimidated nor in despair. I still hope for a sense of solidarity and allyship with the overwhelming majority of Australians who are worried about the future of our proud multicultural country. Join with us we say to them – express and articulate your support in public, in your social media feeds and social circles, your places of worship, and to your politicians.
Perhaps we can even link arms and march across our city streets against antisemitism. Ordinary people together with political, communal and diverse religious and Aboriginal leaders, marching together as 1.7 million people did in the Paris Solidarity March in 2015 following the murderous attacks on a kosher supermarket and the satirical magazine Charlie Hedbo there.
But, if not, at the very least can we not today agree to a ceasefire in our harsh interactions and pronouncements on the streets, and in the media to avoid making things worse? Let’s make them better by our compassion, our understanding and our respect.
