A Time to Say Thank You. Jewish history will not forget those who stood by Israel.

By Michael Oren

Walking down 3^rd Avenue and 85^th Street during a recent visit to New York, I was approached by a young, professionally-dressed woman who recognized me from news interviews. “Thank you for everything you do for Israel,” she said, and held out her hand. I shook it, blushing. “No,” I replied, “Thank you for standing by us during this difficult period.”

“Difficult period” is, of course, an understatement. For the past two years, the Jewish state and the nation it represents has been subject to a daily demonization unknown to us since Nazi Germany. We have been accused of war crimes, the mass murder of children, and genocide. Popular commentators have assailed us for secretly commandeering Western governments, orchestrating international pedophilia rings, and masterminding wars and plagues. There is, in fact, little new in these libels. Virtually all can be traced back to ancient antisemitic tropes. And yet, nothing had prepared the Jewish people for the global scope and unbridled vehemence of this hatred. Nor were we fully braced for the violence that struck Jewish communities in formerly quiescent countries such as Australia and Great Britain.

In such times, it was not easy to be Jewish. Harder still was the challenge of being openly, proudly Jewish, wearing a Star of David, a kippah, or even walking unhurriedly to shul. Most daunting, though, was advocating for Israel,defending not only our right to exist but our right to defend ourselves even when that right was ineptly or misguidedly applied. Truly Herculean was the task of saying, as Commodore Stephen Decatur, the early nineteenth-century U.S. naval hero, purportedly swore, “My country, right or wrong.”

A great many could not. Over the past two years, I’ve watched as friends who once professed their love for Israel, visited it on vacation, and even supported Israeli causes, slowly drifted away. I’ve watched as performers and authors who once portrayed positive Jewish characters and wrote books with Israeli heroes have joined the “Free Palestine”—i.e., destroy Israel—chorus and purged their protagonists of anything remotely Israeli. “The whole world can’t be entirely wrong,” I’ve repeatedly heard them say.

Witnessing such abandonment has been painful for me, but beyond the personal angst was the pervading sense of loneliness. Outside of the bubble of my tight-knit Jaffa community, overseas, I’ve become keenly aware of the solitude experienced by those still standing with Israel. That sense of abandonment is unlikely to abate any time soon, even with the possible end of the Gaza war. For a great many of Israel’s detractors, the question is no longer what we do but who we are, and who we are is not about to change.

It’s for that reason that I shook that New Yorker’s hand and thanked her for her fortitude and courage. There, on 85^th and 3^rd, was the reason for hope. My appreciation of her conviction was the same that we must show to thousands of the college students who, in the U.S. and in Europe, refused to yield to the torrent of anti-Zionist-cum-antisemitic vitriol. We must also salute the brave university administrators and faculty members who stood up to vicious campus incitement.

Gratitude must be shown to the millions who refused to believe the big lies propagated but much of the mainstream media and the capital charges leveled at Israel by gutless Western leaders. To the Hollywood studios and artists who defied the entertainment industry fad of boycotting Israeli films, actors, and directors, we are indebted.

To the great many who marched, who campaigned, who gave so selflessly of their time and treasure, we must say “Thank you.” Jewish history will not forget you.