By Beth Vander Stoep-Regan
The reality is I’ve spent the past six months spending a lot of time crying in my car. The reality is I’m a Jewish professional, a Zionist, a feminist, the wife of a Jewish professional, a community member of a small but strong community downtown, and a person who’s trying to manage her own relationship to the ongoing trauma of a post-Oct. 7 world. The reality is I’ve spent a lot of late nights sitting with crying college students validating the realities of their lived experiences navigating the very scary world that is being Jewish in 2024. The reality is I’ve started getting stomachaches from stress. The reality is as a community, a tribe, a people as a whole, we are physically and emotionally exhausted. Six months feels like an eternity when our collective hearts are with our loved ones in Israel.
I want to validate that reality that is right here and right now.
The other reality is I am in Baltimore, Maryland. I was able to step outside and view the solar eclipse. I haven’t had a rocket fly over my head, not once during these past six months. For the past six months being able to wake up and say “Modeh Ani” has had more kavanah than ever before. When I thank Kadosh Baruch Hu for returning my neshama to me, I’m saying it with a level of sincerity unlike I’ve ever said it before.
Earlier this month, I went to the Hostages and Missing Families Forum protest in Washington D.C. I listened to the families of hostages speak, and my heart went from broken to shattered. Most notably, Romi Gonen’s mom, Meirav, spoke. Tears streamed down my face. Romi Gonen, age 23, has been the hostage I’ve done the most advocacy for after I got a text from a mutual friend shortly after Oct. 7 saying, “my friend Romi has been taken.” Romi and I don’t know each other but because of our shared connection I’ve gotten to know her story. Romi was kidnapped after attending the Nova music festival. She has been held hostage for the past 195 days.
The reality is I have a younger sister who loves concerts, and if something were to ever happen to her, I’d do everything I possibly can to bring her home. I’d find the impossible strength, like somehow Romi’s family has found, to advocate for her night and day.
My beloved Jewish community, I understand we are burnt out. I understand that we are exhausted. I understand that we think we are at our point. I also understand that as klal Yisrael we are responsible for one another. The families of the hostages in Gaza are our families. If they can find the strength to carry on advocating, surely we can too. We’ve already seen the tremendous good that public pressure does. A few months ago, Gov. Wes Moore met with the Gonens. As we speak, the CIA is involved with negotiations to bring our loved ones home. We cannot, we do not have the option of giving up or giving in. We must continue our commitment to putting public pressure on our congressional leaders each and every day.
The reality is we can and we must push forward. I believe that Hashem will give us the strength to do so, and if Hashem doesn’t do well, I recommend drinking another cup of powdered Israeli instant coffee, as that’s what has been my go-to in the mornings because I don’t have time to prepare a proper cup. Nisan is the month of miracles. Surely this month we can continue to daven and advocate for a miracle to happen that will bring all of them home. Now.
Beth Vander Stoep-Regan is a Jewish, feminist educator and community organizer living in downtown Baltimore.
