For most Jews, this past year has been a kind of nightmare. We witnessed the worst massacre of Jews since the Holocaust unfold in real-time. We found ourselves caught in a seemingly endless war, with Israel vilified and demonized across the world. In the Diaspora, we saw the renormalization of overt Jew-hatred and the removal of Jews from public life.
Even as we came together, especially after the execution of six Israeli hostages by Hamas, Israel was overwhelmed with grief. For those of us watching from afar, it felt as though the nation might collapse under the weight of its trauma. This year has been unlike anything most of us have ever experienced.
So, how do we deal with this? This isn’t about “moving on” from tragedy. I take issue with that phrase. When my father passed away in 2017, the idea of moving on felt like a betrayal of his memory. Instead, I chose to move forward. It might seem like a small distinction, but it’s meaningful to me. To “move on” feels like leaving someone or something behind, while “moving forward” means continuing to grow and evolve, carrying them with you.
The same applies to us as a collective. We cannot simply forget the 1,200 lost in the massacre, those who were brutally murdered while held hostage in Gaza, or those still captive by Hamas. Their suffering is ongoing, casting a shadow over us all. This also isn’t about dwelling on the past, but about honoring it. We carry their names, their stories, and their unfinished lives with us – not as a burden, but as a source of strength as we face the future. They are, and always will be, a part of us.
The strength to be vulnerable
To process what has happened, we must confront the pain. Some might argue that discussing this spreads negativity or reveals weakness, but I strongly disagree. The strength it takes to be vulnerable is immense. Acknowledging our emotions is powerful. Only by engaging with our trauma can we hope to move forward from this horror – with strength and pride.
Denying or minimizing how difficult this year has been is not only wrong – it’s actively harmful. The Minority Stress Model shows how hostility, bias, and exclusion deeply affect the physical and mental health of minority groups. For Jews, the stress this year has been exponentially higher. The renormalization of antisemitism, the vilification of Israel, and the casual acceptance of Jew-hate in public discourse have created a suffocating environment.
From my own experience, I’ve seen the toll this has taken on individuals. Friends, family, and community members are not just grieving – they’re grappling with fear, anxiety, and exhaustion. The constant barrage of hatred, the sense of isolation, and the knowledge that our pain is often ignored or minimized have tested us in ways that are difficult to express. This isn’t something that can be brushed aside as part of the ebb and flow of life as a minority.
The emotional and psychological burden placed on Jews this year is something we are all carrying– individually and collectively. Pretending otherwise ignores the real harm being done to our mental well-being. We can’t heal what we don’t acknowledge.
So, how do we cope with the intensity of the stress and trauma inflicted on us? Insights might be found in studies on sexual minorities. Researchers have found that family acceptance, supportive friendships, a strong sense of identity, and self-acceptance can help mitigate the effects of minority stress on mental health. These elements, along with a supportive community, are also crucial for Jews in processing the pain since October 7.
A supportive community that facilitates open conversations about grief is vital for processing the depth of our feelings. When we come together – not just to commemorate, but to engage with the emotions we’re feeling – we create space for healing. Communal conversations about grief aren’t merely about sharing sadness – they’re about acknowledging the weight we all carry and allowing ourselves to feel it without shame or fear.
We are not alone
There is immense strength in recognizing that we are not alone in our suffering. By talking openly, we are able to express the unspoken fears, anger, and heartbreak that many of us hold inside. These conversations help us see that our pain is not isolated but shared by our entire community. This collective processing doesn’t erase the pain, but it helps us carry it together.
It gives us strength to move forward, knowing we’re part of something larger – something resilient and enduring. In a supportive community, our grief becomes a source of connection, solidarity, and pride. We are not broken by our pain; we are bonded by it, and together we will heal.
What is also particularly important is a strong sense of identity. For us, this is Jewish pride. To overcome the intensity of this past year, Jews must continue to cultivate a deep sense of self and Jewish pride. We must understand that we have done nothing to deserve the treatment we’ve endured.
There are forces in the world, as there have always been, that seek to destroy us. That is a condemnation of them, not us. This isn’t about victimhood – I reject the notion that Jews are victims. Recognizing the wrongdoing of others frees us from feeling responsible for the prejudice we face. We are not victims. We are survivors.
And that’s what’s crucial: we will endure. We may be living through a nightmare right now, and there’s no use in pretending otherwise. But it will not destroy us. It will not make us abandon our Jewishness or bow to the pressures of the wider world. We will stand tall. We will stand proud. And we will show extraordinary courage and strength by acknowledging our pain while enduring.
This doesn’t weaken us. It doesn’t let our enemies win. It is simply an acknowledgment that we are human, vulnerable to all aspects of the human experience – including, unfortunately, trauma.But we are still here. We are enduring. We are fighting. We are defending. We are proud. And so we shall remain.
Am Yisrael Chai.
The writer is the founder of the modern Jewish Pride movement, an educator, and the author of Jewish Pride: Rebuilding a People and Reclaiming Our Story: The Pursuit of Jewish Pride. His new book, The Jews: An Indigenous People, will be released in February.