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As the parent of a toddler, I am all too familiar with the diverse and often inane content available for children’s television. From Sesame Street to Bluey to Blippi, most parents work diligently to find content that our children can enjoy without also having the secondary consequence of driving us insane. But this past week, one of the rising stars of kids’ programming taught me a lesson that I desperately needed to hear.
Rachel Accurso rose to fame during the 2020 pandemic, where her YouTube videos became easy content to keep young children engaged and distracted while their adults desperately tried to get work done during the shutdown. Since then, Ms. Rachel has become a household name, including a social media content, a Netflix deal, and a toy collection. She has amassed a huge following, with parents and children alike appreciating her extensive educational background, which helps her content feel both entertaining and enriching.
This past week, I was scrolling on Threads, Instagram’s response to X formerly known as Twitter, and discovered a series of posts from Ms. Rachel’s account. The most notable and jarring of her posts included this line: “Leaders – Be so ashamed that your constituents are begging and pleading for you [sic] speak out and you stay silent…be so ashamed that our religions tell us to give to the poor, feed the hungry & open our arms to all children and you pretend that they mean only for some children.”
Instantly, my shoulders went up. The past 19 months have taught me to be incredibly defensive of anyone who uses harsh language around the situation going on in Gaza. Most of the time, it doesn’t matter what the words are that are said; at the end of the day, it feels as though all criticism of Israel inevitably turns into an attack on Jews in general. It is true that anti-Zionism isn’t inherently antisemitism, but experience has taught me that far too many aren’t able to make the distinction, resulting in continuous ideological and physical attacks on my community. In a world of “us vs. them,” I feared that yet another public figure had taken up arms against my team.
But there is something about educating our children that forced me to pause. Up to that point, I had been impressed with this person’s ability to hold complexities. Ms. Rachel has proven herself to be a thoughtful voice on important issues, including childcare, cognitive development, and support for the LGBTQ+ community. Hadn’t she earned the right to be heard, despite the fears that others had inspired?
The more I engaged with what Ms. Rachel had to say, the more I couldn’t avoid the reality: she was speaking to me as a Jewish leader. After all, my Jewish tradition teaches me that I must look out for the widow and the orphan, that I must show kindness to the stranger, that I must insist upon justice wherever it is absent. Isn’t that what Ms. Rachel was reminding me? Was I going to continue to allow my fear that any support for the refugees of Gaza would inherently render me vulnerable to attack from all directions?
Another one of the fears that I couldn’t help but feel was the concern that I would donate to a cause that would eventually lead to more resources in the hands of Hamas. And I certainly owe it to myself and my Jewish community to donate my time, resources, and money thoughtfully to organizations that match my values. However, to refuse to donate food to the hungry out of fear that it will wind up in the wrong hands is an excuse; I would rather be the kind of person who gives with misdirected kindness than the one who sees those in need and refuses to do anything at all.
The situation in Gaza has changed dramatically over the course of the war. What was once an understandable response to a devastating terror attack has become an overly aggressive campaign that doesn’t care about the citizen casualties. While Israel has every right to defend itself, that does not excuse situations in which the Israeli government has taken action that casually puts the well-being of refugees and children at risk. While I stand firmly behind my Zionism and my support for the ideals of our national homeland, my humanity and my Jewish values compel me to reject the Netanyahu administration and to demand that any action taken in the name of our people uphold the standards of compassion, kindness, and communal well-being that are central to our faith tradition. Put simply, no Jew can stand idly by and watch as our innocent neighbors suffer from violence, homelessness, and lack of resources.
There is so much complexity in the situation in the Middle East. But starving children is not a complicated issue. Up until January of this year, it was a source of immense pride that I could say that Israel was one of the most significant contributors of aid to Gaza over the past quarter century; we were part of the solution as much as we were part of any problem. But that is no longer true, and we Jews must come to terms with what that does to the soul of our experience.
If the Jewish community continues to hide behind political party lines, we are doomed to become exactly what the antisemites have always tried to convince others we are. If we are unwilling to name injustice for what it is, then we are unworthy of the blessings that Judaism can provide to us. And if supporting innocent Gazan children makes me a bad Jew, then I’d rather be a bad Jew and a good person than the kind of Jew extremists would consider “good.”
In his day, the prophet Isaiah was devastated by the community’s unwillingness to follow God’s law. Speaking on behalf of God, he declared: “I, the Eternal, in My grace, have summoned you, and I have grasped you by the hand. I created you, and appointed you a covenant people, a light unto the nations.” It is time for our community to reach out and take the hands that are being offered to us, inviting us to be the best version of ourselves. It is time that the Jewish community put down our primal fear in favor of the moral imperative to make the world a more holy, more righteous, and more just place. And I am grateful that a wise and thoughtful preschool teacher had the courage to teach me what I needed to remember. I am one of the leaders to whom she was speaking. And I was ashamed, but not anymore. Let’s get to work.
Austin Zoot is the Rabbi Educator at Valley Temple in Wyoming, Ohio.
‘It is time for our community to reach out and take the hands that are being offered to us… ”
Which hands are being offered to us?
I’m really asking. Is there / are there potential partners out there that we are rejecting to work with?