Ceremonies commemorating October 7? It’s way too soon

Just thinking about the looming October 7 memorials and ceremonies leaves me overcome with nausea and revulsion. Just what do I want to do on October 7? Where do I want to be? How will I pass this day? I begged my wife, “Please, please, I can’t handle a ceremony. I don’t want to be in some public gathering with sad music and speeches. Please, let’s go volunteer somewhere. Let’s do something for our country. But no memorial ceremonies, please.”

Why?

Remember Gilbert Gottfried? He’s the comedian who melted down his career and professional reputation by making a joke about terror attacks at the Friar Club just two weeks after 9/11 in early October of 2001. It was too soon. Way too soon. Too soon for catharsis. Too soon for closure. And too soon to have any perspective about what the 9/11 attacks really meant or how they would change America.

I feel the same way about the upcoming October 7 memorials. And I want nothing to do with them. I know that the purpose of these memorials is to allow us to mourn. But for God’s sake, I’ve done enough national mourning over the last year to fit 10 lifetimes. I’m also wary (and raging furious) about anyone who dares use this tragedy for their own political purposes.

More importantly, haShabbat haShehorah (the Shabbat of darkness) kicked off a war that we are still fighting. The outcome of this war for the long-term survival of the State of Israel is far from over and its outcome is far from clear. We are in the midst of a multi-generational battle with an enemy who sits patiently, plans into the future, and has a focused goal: the extermination of Israelis and the erasure of Israel. I can’t justify investing energy in a ceremony when we’re still burying soldiers and civilians who continue to fall at the hands of terrorists every week. Without fail.

Finally, and most importantly, I believe that commemorations must involve making purposeful statements that emerge from reflection on history. Without that kind of parshanut or nuanced interpretation, without making meaning of things, these ceremonies are at best empty, otherwise offensive, and at worst dangerous. Just what meaning are we to make, what lessons are we to learn, from Hamas’s genocidal attack…followed by waves of Hezbollah’s rockets…funded with Iran’s gleeful support…and championed by a delusional global Left? What does this tell us about the Jewish people’s place in the modern world? Has anyone put these pieces together in a real way that does not involve a retreat into previously held political agendas or preconfigured strategic beliefs?

Personally, I’ve been watching my inner world crumble for the last year. Politicians I once trusted are suspect. Others whom I once shunned at least merit an honest hearing. I routinely scan and profile everyone I pass on the street looking for knives or odd backpacks or jackets out of season. I cry sometimes at odd times for no reason. Or for good reason. And death no longer feels like a stranger. I feel anger and outrage and distrust, and this now feels normal.

I dare anyone to come up with a ceremony that puts all that into words. I forbid anyone to push me to that place with the pretense of decorum and a well-placed song. I curse anyone who dares to take advantage of my outrage and anger and pain for some agenda. Any agenda.

Ceremony is impossible. Don’t…just don’t…pretend that we have enough distance from these events to know what they mean. It will take us years, if not decades.

My wife agreed that this year we’ll go somewhere in the South where her cousin runs a volunteer project. They offer food and therapeutic workshops for soldiers and residents of Otef Aza. Or we’ll sit quietly in a field in Be’eri. Or we’ll do something else. Anything else.

But no ceremonies, please. It’s too soon. PJC