Why History Matters

And why you shouldn't buy a Tesla

Dearest Readers,

When I was nine, I read Once by Morris Gleitzman for the first time and it shook me to my core. I remember crying and asking my parents if something like that could really happen.

That book sparked in me a deep and unsettling fascination with World War II and the Holocaust—not because I found it entertaining, but because I was horrified that such atrocities had occurred so recently in human history.

What do you mean people were rounded up like animals into gas chambers?

What do you mean people were starved and then shot into ditches?

The photos were too much for a child’s brain to comprehend, but important to see. I couldn’t understand how the world had allowed it to happen, and I never wanted anything like it to unfold in my lifetime.

Like many others, I was swept up in books like The Boy in the Striped Pajamas and The Book Thief. These books sold so many copies I guarantee most of you have one on your bookshelf. In high school, modern history became my favorite subject, and I eventually minored in history at university.

Fast forward to when I was 21—fresh out of university, I met and three years later married a Jewish man.

I thought I had a solid understanding of Jewish history and the displacement of the Jewish people. But while I was familiar with their tragic past—the suffering, the loss, the generational grief that so many families still carry—I hadn’t spent much time within the culture or community. That was something I came to connect with more deeply over time.

It wasn’t just the weight of history that struck me, more the resilience. The traditions. The joy. The laughter. Yiddish words that I began to adopt: Chutzpah, Schmooze, Schtick.

Oh and the FOOD - Matzo Ball soup, Kugelhopf, latkes, creamed spinach, schnitzel and charoset.

There was so much to love about my husband’s faith (the food was a gateway drug). The long Friday night dinners with no technology, watching his cousins give blessings to their children—hands on heads, words softly spoken. It was a powerful moment of intimacy I had never seen before.

I loved the idea of a mitzvah, a good deed. There are 600 + of them listed in the Torah. And whilst I don’t agree with A LOT of them they are nice reminders of the things we can do for others on a daily basis.

My husband’s lineage was forever altered by the Holocaust, our children are the only ones remaining in his bloodline. His grandmother narrowly escaped being put on a train to the camps.

We married under a chuppah in 2017, and there was never an expectation that I would need to convert, despite the comfort my in-laws found in their faith. I will be forever grateful for that. It kept me open minded and the absence of that pressure made it easy for me to want to try and be the best possible “Jew-ish” wife I could be.

So I recited the blessing of the candles in Hebrew, learnt how to braid and bake challah. We celebrated Shabbat (still do), Passover and Hanukkah (as well as Christmas). I wanted my children to understand that their family history mattered and why it’s important to recognize, especially in a climate where, even today, Kanye West is selling shirts with swastikas on them.

The past two years in our political landscape have been abysmal. The Israel / Palestine conflict caused arguments in my marriage. I did not understand the history, I still don’t. I could only see what was happening in front of our eyes. If you were to ask me whether I condone Netanyahu’s actions, I would say straight up: the genocide in Palestine is incomprehensible and inexcusable. And yet, my community here in Sydney is primarily Jewish and hold deep trauma about what they consider to be their homeland.

Two things can be true at once, and I have been grappling with my relationship to the faith and the words we so often say when we speak of the Holocaust:

Never Again.

Never again means never again for everyone and it should’ve applied to the Palestinian people. It still does, despite how disgusting world leaders have been acting - talking about shoreline developments and building atop a mass murder site.

This week, my ex and I made the difficult decision to take our youngest out of his Jewish preschool. The latest threats against Jewish institutions made his safety feel too precarious. We had put him there as a way to connect him to his family history. And for a year it was one of the most beautiful experiences. Our 3 year old came home on a Friday with a fresh loaf of challah he had baked at school and knew the Hebrew prayers. It was such a special experience to see my husband’s eyes light up when it first happened - a certain kind of magic, a visit from his grandmother - something in between the past and the present.

For any young folks reading my Substack, I want to beg something of you. Please do not get caught up in the TikTok rhetoric, or the fad that is Kanye West’s constant need for attention. Do not watch the video of Elon Musk heiling Hitler and laugh. It is not funny. They want to divide us, to put us into teams. They want to give you a common enemy. It is the foundation of something sinister and deadly. Read a book, listen to history. History is facts, not theories. Theories from a podcaster who has probably never read more than the contents of an instagram caption are not what you should be subscribing to.

I wanted to write this today to pay homage to Judaism and the light it has brought to my life. And although my husband and I are no longer together, we still have Shabbat together when we can, with his parents and our friends. When those candles are lit, it is a small but powerful reminder that when we stop on a Friday night, we remember.

Passover in Lockdown 2020 (Los Angeles) one of the weirdest times of our life. I felt so buoyed by this evening and for the first time saw the value of religion in desperate times.

I am in no way religious, believe it or not (after this LONG essay!!!! ). But for those who didn’t know this was a part of my life… surprise !!!! I suspect there are others in your life with complicated feelings. I encourage you to seek out your Jewish friends and ask them if they are OK. They are scared. And most of them feel sick about what has happened since October 7th, 2023.

Below are some books that provide deeper insight into the Israel-Palestine conflict, and others that explore Jewish history, identity, and resilience. I hope that after reading this you might feel compelled to learn a little more and listen to the voices we can no longer hear:

The Hundred Years’ War on Palestine – Rashid Khalidi

Mornings in Jenin by Susan Abulhawa

Being Jewish After The Destruction of Gaza by Peter Beinart

The Thinking Heart by David Grossman

All The Light We Cannot See by Anthony Doerr

A Very Short History of the Israel-Palestine Conflict by Ilan Pappe

Here All Along by Sarah Hurwitz

For Children / Young Adults

The Diary of A Young Girl by Anne Frank

Once by Morris Gleitzman (there is a series)

Rabbit, Soldier, Angel, Thief by Katrina Nannestad

When Hitler stole Pink Rabbit by Judith Kerr

All The Beautiful Things by Katrina Nannestad

Goodnight Mister Tom by Michelle Magorian

Happy Reading and Big Loving,

Jessie

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