I was on the phone last night with another Rabbi, and she suddenly asked me, “have you heard from any non-Jewish people?”

I hadn’t. I have received so much support from the local Jewish community, from Jewish friends around the country, from other Jewish clergy everywhere. But almost nothing from people who aren’t Jewish.

So late last night I posted the question on a listserve for Jewish clergy. Answers came pouring in. Some had indeed received a great deal of support from neighbors, friends, and non-Jewish clergy. Some only a little, and many not as much as they would have hoped or expected.

It taught me something important. The next time there is an elementary school shooting seven states away, I’m calling a local mom of a fourth grader. Because she is freaking out.

The next time a black man or woman is shot, whether 20 or 2000 miles away, I’m calling a local black friend. Because he is experiencing an existential crisis.

The next time an LGBTQ person is persecuted, wherever it may be, I’m calling a friend. Because their heart is breaking.

To me, every tale of horror, death, murder, rape, and assault that has come from Israel these past few days is personal. It doesn’t matter if I knew the person or not. It matters because Jewish people matter to me. They are my family. All of them.

To the person who said to me, “it’s so terrible. And all those poor Palestinian people losing their homes!“ I apologize. I apologize for replying, “yes, and all those poor Jewish babies who were decapitated!” I know you didn’t mean to make a moral equivalency. But you did. And one day, hopefully soon, I will feel bad for the Palestinian people, too. But right now my heart is breaking for the Jews.

I am trying to distinguish between the helpless Palestinian people and the barbarian and murderous Hamas terrorists. Please excuse me if today it’s difficult for me to do.

This weekend, Jews will begin reading the Torah from the beginning, just as we do every year. You can walk into any synagogue anywhere in the world and they will be reading the same passages.

The Bible begins with God creating the world and seeing that it was tohu v’vohu, formless and chaotic. So God created light, and separated the light from the darkness.

Separation can be good. And things that are separated are often complimentary. Darkness and light go hand in hand. There always will be opposites in our lives, differences that divide us, yet also help us recognize the presence and importance of the Other.

Last night, I told my Rabbi friend about the one phone call I have received. It was from my veterinarian’s office. They called just to say that they cared, they were thinking about me, and they knew that I was in pain. It was remarkable. It was healing. It brought tears to my eyes.

And then I received a text from a long lost friend. Our kids were best friends growing up. But Matt’s mom and I went our separate ways, live in completely different parts of the US, and are rarely in contact. Until this morning.

She wrote: “We are praying for Israel. I’m thinking of you and how you’re feeling and hope that you are holding up. Prayers for your friends there. I don’t know if you have family there too but we all pray for peace and the people of Israel.”

It was the second time I cried. Thank you Laurie and Karla. You made a difference. You helped heal the hole in my heart.

Pray for Israel. And call a Jewish friend, just to say “I’m thinking about you.” They need you. We need each other.