I am not someone who gives a great deal of thought about what I wear. This morning I was strangely conscious of getting dressed. I made sure to make sure I did not walk out wearing any Jewish SWAG. As as I was headed into Manhattan today I did not want to broadcast my being Jewish more than my beard already does.

Today is October 7th. Three years ago today Hordes of murderous animalistic evil men and boys broke across the border between Gaza and Israel. They murdered people of all ages, from infants to elderly Holocaust survivors. They attacked ambulance crews. They raped women. They beheaded innocent civilians. They burned people alive in their homes. They took 250 prisoners into Gaza and tortured them. Many did not come home alive.

As a community, big and small, this day has a special significance like none other. It is scary to realize that a lot of people are going to try to take this away from us today. They may try to make this about something else or somebody else.

There is plenty of suffering to go around. And the existence of pain anywhere does not discount any other pain. That said, efforts today to draw attention away from the victims of October 7th like Mayor Mamdani’s messaging seems like an act of erasure. There are so few of us, you might not realize that from the news, but I think it deserves some consideration.

As a minority of a minority, we need to be able to stay focused and not get lost in the din of the chanting mobs who have learned to hate Israel and the Jewish people. It is upon us to maintain our moral clarity and remember all of the victims of Hamas and their supporters.

When my father passed away, I read many books on grief and loss. One quote that has stuck with me comes from Martin Prechtel’s The Smell of Rain on Dust: Grief and Praise. He writes:

Grief expressed out loud for someone we have lost, or a country or home we have lost, is in itself the greatest praise we could ever give them. Grief is praise, because it is the natural way love honors what it misses.

Before we run ahead to meet the demands of the day — and we will —  let’s reflect on this praise for what we miss. I know a lot of us may be struggling today. We may be feeling many different emotions. That is normal. That’s grief. Living in fear is not normal.

In a poem about Israel, Yehuda HaLevi, the 12th Century Spanish Jewish physician, poet and philosopher, wrote, “ My heart is in the east, and I in the uttermost west”. My yearning to live free without threat does not preclude anyone else’s freedom, but please let me mourn in peace. Today, on October 7th, my heart is in the east.