Mourner in Zion Dara Horn reviews Rachel Goldberg-Polin’s new memoir.
I have never met Rachel Goldberg-Polin—though saying this feels somehow false, since at this point, every English-speaking Jew on earth is in a parasocial relationship with her. We have seen her at rallies fighting for her then still-living son; we have heard her voice on podcasts weeping for her executed child; we have seen her on television, her fight and her pain always on public display. And since Jews are a global family, I have, inevitably, also had some indirect contact with her. A mutual acquaintance told me that, remarking on the title of my book People Love Dead Jews, she suggested that the next one should be called People Hate Live Jews (ultimately I chose something even worse). This second-hand comment has stayed with me because it felt like more than a dark joke. It hinted at something that the public Goldberg-Polin, despite her enormous emotional exposure, rarely if ever expresses: rage.Seth Mandel: The Chilling Truth Behind the New School’s War on Hillel
Part of the galvanizing appeal of the cause of the hostages for worldwide audiences was that the hostages fit into the category of the kind of Jews that non-Jewish (and Jewish diaspora) audiences are more comfortable with: Jews who are powerless. This is one of the reasons for the broad acceptance of Holocaust memorialization, a history in which Jews are generally presented as powerless and pitiable victims. Goldberg-Polin is a woman of unfathomable energy and courage, but this unexamined and unconscious attitude toward Jews was part of what made it possible to share her public grief on mainstream American media outlets like 60 Minutes. It would be inconceivable, for instance, for the mother of a fallen IDF soldier to do so.
In Israel, in contrast, young Jews who have been killed fighting in Gaza are mourned alongside the civilians murdered or kidnapped on October 7. Everyone understands they are in the same fight for their lives, against an enemy that makes no distinction between soldiers and civilians. In her book, Goldberg-Polin dramatizes this equivalence with a moving personal story. She describes her fellow synagogue congregant Oshrat’s son Yuval, who constantly yelled Hersh’s name as he fought in Gaza, hoping to find his friend. At the end of Goldberg-Polin’s shiva, Oshrat was the one who recited the ritual statement “Get up from your mourning” and “took my broken paw in her cool, confident hand, and pulled me up into my New World.” A few months later, when Yuval was killed in Gaza, “it would be my hand to put into Oshrat’s broken paw, pulling her up into The New World where we both now live.”
When We See You Again is a deliberately apolitical book, almost stridently so, and, almost certainly, necessarily so. Beyond some important (and tragically not obvious) statements about mourning civilians on both sides, Goldberg-Polin makes no comments at all about the military or other choices of the Israeli government, which hostage families in Israel often vocally opposed. There was an inescapable—and for Hamas, intentional—tension in the official dual war aims of returning the hostages and defeating Hamas. The cause of freeing the hostages rightly became a near-universal obsession in Israel and the wider Jewish world, both because of the long Jewish tradition of ransoming captives and because of the sheer human horror of elderly people and children, even babies, being kidnapped, and innocents of all ages being shackled, beaten, starved, tortured, and in many cases sexually assaulted. But this meant negotiating with people who are “not like us,” people who regard murder, kidnapping, rape, and torture as legitimate, and it meant accepting their ever-more-outrageous demands, most consequentially the release of hundreds of convicted terrorists, many of them murderers. In 2011, Yahya Sinwar, the architect of October 7, was, of course, returned to Gaza, along with a thousand other convicted terrorists in exchange for Gilad Shalit. The recent hostage horror show threatened to turn Jewish existence into a sickening real-life Trolley problem, in which “Bring Them Home Now” might be a track toward generating even more bereaved mothers in the future.
In discussing Hersh’s death, Goldberg-Polin invokes an ancient folktale retold by Victor Frankl as “Death in Tehran,” though it is more popularly known under Somerset Maugham’s title “Appointment in Samarra.” The point of the story is that no one can escape their predestined appointment with death. But, as she knows better than anyone, her son’s murder was not a natural disaster or force majeure; it was the result of human perpetrators making monstrous choices in “lands where we should not go,” including not only Gaza but also Qatar and Iran. Perhaps this is what drew her to a story called “Death in Tehran.”
Goldberg-Polin’s memoir is about her terrifying immersion in personal grief, not a confrontation with the political evil that produced it. But as she guides her readers through that gutting grief with all her luminous goodness and courage on display, it is easy to imagine her finding her why, in her (and our) horrific new world, where we all desperately need more goodness and courage like hers.
The prophet Jeremiah also gave us the divine response to the original mother Rachel’s wail from Ramah: “Restrain your voice from weeping, your eyes from shedding tears. For there is a reward for your labor… and there is hope for your future.” There is.
Buried in a 2007 decision by Israel’s high court is the key to understanding an important part of the Arab-Israeli conflict that has migrated to America and the rest of the West.How Europe's classrooms are being turned into factories of antisemitism
The case illuminates recent events at the New School and elsewhere.
A Palestinian connected to the Popular Front for the Liberation of Palestine, a terrorist organization, was petitioning the Israeli courts to nullify a decision that would stop him from being able to travel abroad. Officials argued that he’d be a security threat. His attorneys argued that he was also running a “humanitarian” NGO, al-Haq, and thus had a right to continue that work abroad.
The infamously left-wing court agreed, through gritted teeth, that the security officials had presented a convincing case that the man was a threat: “Nevertheless, the current petitioner is apparently acting as a manner of Doctor Jekyll and Mister Hyde, acting some of the time as the CEO of a human rights organization, and at other times as an activist in a terror organization which has not shied away from murder and attempted murder, which have nothing to do with rights; rather, they violate the most basic right of them all, the most fundamental right that without which there are no other rights—the right to life.”
That description of al-Haq and its director—terror operatives masquerading as NGO directors and using their “human rights” group as a free pass to kill Jews—is a Rosetta Stone for our age. And why would an NGO director be the perfect job for a terror operative? The Israeli high court revealed this, too:
“A director of a human rights group has a special status similar to that of journalists or humanitarian workers; the security concerns must be concrete to justify hindering his freedom of movement.”
Today we are plagued by these “special status” holders.
Last week in New York, the student senate of the New School, a private university, voted to stop all funding of the local chapter of Hillel, the campus Jewish center. Though framed as some sort of stand against Israeli aggression, this move was obviously and undeniably anti-Semitic. Terror groups and their American public-relations pets tried to claim that Hillel was guilty of funding war crimes because it supports the IDF.
One of the sources of information for this claim? The Hind Rajab Foundation, a Hezbollah-linked Mr. Hyde dressed up as humanitarian Dr. Jekyll.
What are Irish, Spanish, and Norwegian children learning about Israel and the Jewish people? What happens when a teacher shows a classroom of children photographs of Palestinian children from the Nakba alongside photographs of Holocaust survivors liberated from a death camp? When do textbooks describe Auschwitz as a "camp for prisoners of war"? When does an education system teach that Jews promote violence? When do new curricula present the war in Gaza as "genocide"?
Across Europe, a slow but dangerous shift is underway. A one-sided narrative is seeping into classrooms – sometimes officially, more often as the personal views of teachers shaped by the society around them. The result is a generation that may grow up with a distorted image of Israel, Judaism, and history.
Three countries illustrate the problem with particular sharpness: Ireland, Spain, and Norway. In Ireland, a near-total public consensus against Israel has taken hold, expressed across the entire political spectrum and throughout the media. In Spain, where 82% of the public believes Israel is committing genocide in Gaza, even news outlets that are supposed to be objective use the term in their reporting.
The anti-Israel line taken by the media and by a government that leans on the radical left – reinforced by Prime Minister Pedro Sánchez's own claim that Israel is committing genocide – has created a public atmosphere in which Israel is seen as a malevolent and murderous actor.
Norway presents a similar picture. 88% of members of the country's largest trade union – which includes Norway's largest teachers' association – voted in favor of a boycott of Israel.
Here, too, power lies with a left-wing government that depends on the radical left. The discourse around "the genocide Israel is committing" has been ongoing since early 2024, and most of the media takes a pronounced anti-Israel line.
Ireland: when an error becomes policy
Orly Degani, a board member of the Jewish Community Council of Ireland, has been closely monitoring what is being taught in Irish schools. The picture that emerges from the textbooks, she said, is alarming. "Auschwitz is described in them as a 'prisoner of war camp' rather than an extermination camp. Judaism is presented as a religion that believes the only way to achieve justice is through violence.
"Another book, intended for children aged 4–5, puts forward the narrative that Jews did not like Jesus – classic antisemitism passed down from generation to generation." According to Degani, the problem is not necessarily malicious intent on the part of teachers, but a lack of knowledge and oversight. The Irish education system allows a wide range of bodies to publish textbooks, as long as they cover the subjects set by the government – but there is no meaningful oversight of the content.
"The government decides on the subject areas, and then any educational body that wants to can go and print a textbook. When we explained to the Ministry of Education that this produces problematic content, they said it was not within their control and that it was the publisher's responsibility."
The examples Degani cites are not theoretical. An official examination by the State Examinations Commission listed Palestine as a place where there are "many Jews." "The exam went through checks," Degani said. "It was approved by educational authorities, and it went out to every school. What does a child think when they receive that page?"























