Despite our pain, the Jewish community refuses to wallow in anger

Jewish law and custom approach mourning in a highly prescriptive and regimented way. There is sense to this. When one is bereaved and unsure where to turn and what to do, it is comforting to have the answers laid out for you. There are three phases of mourning – seven days, 30 days and the remainder of the year, during which the mourners transition from intensely confronting their grief to gradually resuming everyday activities and, finally, ceasing their mourning altogether and returning to a full and productive life.

This process begins with focusing on oneself and one’s mental state through introspection to fully confront the loss and the feelings it naturally produces, to eventually looking outward again, performing righteous deeds in memory of the dead and encouraging others to do so. We heal ourselves, but we do not wallow or descend into spirals of anger and pain. When the time is right, we return to trying to heal our world.

This is where the Jewish community is this weekend, on the six-month anniversary of the act of terror that ripped through scores of bodies, ending the lives of 15, and ripped apart the notions that all Australians are equally free to practise their faith, gather in peace and live without fear of violence from fellow Australians.

We, as a community, looked inward in those early days when all was pain and chaos. We had to. We had to soothe the widows, ease family fears of financial ruin, comfort the wounded in intensive care units and embrace the families of the dead so tightly that they understood they would never be alone.

But then we began to look at our community, our society, our nation. Terrorism seeks to rattle our self-confidence as a country and a civilisation, makes us point the finger in the wrong places, makes us paranoid and suspicious, inward-looking and frightened. The Jewish community was never going to allow this to happen to us. As NSW Multiculturalism Minister Steve Kamper said: “All I wanted to do was wrap my arms around the grieving Jewish community. Instead, they wrapped their arms around us.”

And so, initiatives were launched like the One Mitzvah campaign, encouraging all Australians to do even a solitary act of kindness like visiting the sick or elderly, donating to charity or bringing a meal to the hungry. Creative output was increased. Artists such as Nina Sanadze turned the thousands of decaying flower bunches left at the Bondi Pavilion memorial into a permanent piece of art to elevate and remind. Nikki Goldstein, who had been co-writing a book with the slain organiser of Channukah by the Sea, Rabbi Eli Schlanger, in the form of a dialogue between the secular and the devout exploring all aspects of faith, love and life, completed the work without her fallen friend because to do otherwise would have been to succumb and that’s not what we do.

The Jewish community is permanently changed. But not in the way that many would expect. I see no rage or hatred in the community. Not even towards our assassins. Again, Jewish law and custom has an answer to this temptation. We do not curse the names of the wicked, individuals of no worth. Instead, we “blot them out”, and elevate the cherished memories of those they took.

There has been no great exodus of Australian Jews. Instead, there has been a surge of love and hope. Nobody shakes hands any more. The times call for the full-body embrace. We do not live in hope of government solving the problems of society. We are determined to be the change, to live the change in the form of national pride, community pride and to live lives worthy of those who were taken from us.

We’re also long past explaining. Australia’s most eminent Holocaust historian, Professor Konrad Kwiet, once told me, “You never argue with a Holocaust denier.” One has to resist the temptation to debate or uncloak the sinister and the plain stupid because wrestling with them creates the false impression of a contest. Put another way, the Jews are through with emptying their pockets in front of our accusers. After all, the accusers know we haven’t stolen anything; they just enjoy watching us humiliate ourselves through our protests and denials.

We no longer plead with deniers of Hamas rape and sexual torture to believe the scores of women and girls who were violated and disposed of; we pity those who lack the humanity to see the truth. We no longer refute false accusations of genocide by Israel that are used to incite violence against all Jews; we deepen our solidarity with actual victims of the crime of crimes. And we do not seek to reason with those who abuse our children on netball courts or those who seek to globalise the intifada. We simply hold a mirror up to society and its institutions to show what they have become. There is much to do, and our faith in the Almighty and in Australia compels us to get back to the work of bringing light to dispel the darkness.

Alex Ryvchin is co-chief executive of the Executive Council of Australian Jewry.

Get a weekly wrap of views that will challenge, champion and inform your own. Sign up for our Opinion newsletter.