Creating Change, One Milk Carton at a Time

A story of compassion and connection during the Israeli-Palestinian conflict.

It’s been an emotional and frustrating week. If you’re anything like me, you’re upset about the seven aid works in Gaza who were killed by Israeli airstrikes, and all innocent lives taken during this war.

If you’re also like me, you recognize that Israel’s war against Hamas is a just war against evil and the largest atrocity committed on the Jewish people since the Holocaust. Not only that, but you recognize this war will not end until the 132 hostages who, after six months, are still held captive in Gaza are returned home.

I’ve been reminding myself it’s possible to hold multiple beliefs at once. I can recognize Israel’s objective in this war, a cause any country would take up to defend itself against genocidal neighbors, while mourning the loss of innocent life and destruction and worrying what comes next for Gazans after this war. That’s not contradictory; it’s called being a human being… and maybe an open-minded intellectual who reads and understands nuance, but I digress (feeling snarky today!).

On that note, here’s a true and uplifting story, shared by a friend who will remain anonymous:

“I just walked to the corner store to buy milk. I go in there frequently and often chitchat with the owner of the store. I didn't know his name, but I know he’s from the Middle East. Anyway, I noticed when I walked in, there was a handwritten sticker posted on the outside of the door that said in marker, ‘From the river to the sea, Palestine will be free.’ I was so upset seeing those words because it clearly was handwritten by someone. I don't know if the owner knew that it was there. But we know that the slogan suggests from the Jordan River to the Mediterranean Sea, everything in between – Israel and the Jews – should be killed. And what that creates in New York and in the U.S. is more antisemitism.

This is nothing to say about what's happening in Gaza, which is horrific, by the way, or about Israel's right to defend itself, which it does, although I don't believe in the way it is. But it was disconcerting to see that. So I went into the store, I got my milk and brought my black coffee to fill with my milk. We got to talking and he said, ‘I love having my coffee every day, but I can't have it now because it's Ramadan.’ So I greeted him with an ‘Eid Mubarak’ and asked how his holiday has been. I said, ‘I hope anyone you're connected to over in the Middle East is okay right now.’

As we got to talking about it, I said, ‘I noticed a sign on your door.’ And I explained, ‘With respect to what's happening now, the words ‘the river to the sea’ suggest that everyone between the river and the sea should be killed, to some. And what that means in New York and in the U.S. is more antisemitism and hate for the Jews. And it's happening a lot here and it's really unfortunate.’

We had this whole conversation. I asked him about his family. He told me that he was in Palestine until he was 17 and used to get picked up by Israelis to go over the border to paint houses and he saw so many good hearts, that the Israelis were good people. Like every place, there are good people and there are bad people.

I explained how a government is not representative of its people, like what I believe is very different than what Trump believes, for example, but I didn’t associate myself with Trump when he was in office.

After we talked, we walked outside and I showed him the sign. He said, ‘See, this is a sticker. Someone put this on the outside of my door. Now they know that now I have to get this off my glass door. But I understand what you're saying. I’ll get this removed. I'll have it taken down.’ Then we exchanged names and shook hands.

I think this conversation speaks to the beauty of what can happen with the kind of advocacy that is one-on-one conversations, neighborhood relationships, and the courage and the awareness to speak up and the compassion to listen. More conversations like these. This is how we make change, little by little.”

Shabbat Shalom. Here’s to more conversations like these,

Have a story or experience you’d like to share? Reply to this email!