By Rabbi Josh Levy and Rabbi Charley Baginsky
Co-Leads of Progressive Judaism

We came to the National March for the Hostages to speak for a vision of Jewish community that can hold complexity, speak hard truths, and still stand together. We believed the platform would reflect the breadth of voices in our community, including those of Israeli hostage families who, week after week, stand in Hostage Square, demanding both the release of the kidnapped and an end to the war.

Our speech began with a truth we cannot dilute. On October 7, Hamas unleashed horror. They murdered, burned and kidnapped, shattering lives and shattering peace. The responsibility for this war, and for the agony it has brought, lies with them. And still today, they hold fifty hostages, living and dead. They are not statistics. They are mothers and fathers, children and grandparents. They have names, faces, birthdays missed, embraces delayed and tragically funerals delayed too. They must come home. There is no higher priority.

We said it plainly, the idea of a Palestinian state is not the problem. The Palestinian people, like the Jewish people, have the right to self-determination. What we reject is a methodology that tries to force this future through violence, terror and the suffering of civilians. Statehood cannot be built on the blood of innocents, and peace will never grow from the soil of fear.

We mourn for those murdered on October 7, for the soldiers who have since fallen, and for the innocent civilians in Gaza whose lives have been lost. Every life is precious. As Jews in this country, we will not remain silent in the face of Israel’s external threats. But neither should we remain silent when its own government pursues policies that endanger Israelis and endanger the hostages. The UK Jewish community, committed to Jewish values, to the rule of law, to human dignity, must have the strength and honesty to speak with this brave voice.

It was not easy to stand there. We were heckled, and then the organisers removed us from the platform. And yet we are deeply grateful for the care of those who reached out afterwards, whether they agreed with us or not, because they cared enough to listen. That means something. The silence from other quarters is harder to bear.

We will not retreat from cross-communal spaces. If we are not there, others will shape the Jewish future without us and we will not allow that. We will use our voice, our presence, and our conviction to shape what comes next. The Jewish future will be shaped by those who show up and we will be there.

Last night, after Havdalah outside Downing Street, we walked back through the warm evening in our kippot. A woman in a kefiah stopped, looked straight at us, and spat out, “I see you,” her voice full of contempt. It was antisemitism and ignorance bound together, targeting us for being visibly Jewish after a peace ritual that mourned both Israeli and Palestinian dead.

And here is the bitter truth, it is not only voices outside our community that do this. Across our Jewish world, left and right, we have convinced ourselves that public humiliation is an effective tool. It is not. It is bullying. Bullying distracts from the real work. Whether the cause is freeing hostages, ending starvation in Gaza, or building a just peace, turning on each other only weakens it.

Shame does not strengthen movements. It paralyses them. The kind of shame hurled like a stone, in the street, on social media, or in community meetings, closes the door to listening and wastes the energy we need for what matters. The Talmud teaches that one who shames another in public is as if they have spilled blood. Humiliation is a form of violence, and it will not bring us closer to the world we want.

There is another kind of shame. Not the shame of causing suffering, but for living in a world where it continues. Shame that people are starving in Gaza. Shame that hostages remain in captivity. Shame for the many lives lost. This shame can move us, stir our conscience, and push us to act.

Our task now is to rebuild. Rebuild trust between Israelis and Palestinians. Rebuild the vision of two states for two peoples, each free, each secure. Bend history toward peace, plant justice so it will grow. As Pirkei Avot teaches, “You are not obligated to complete the work, but neither are you free to desist from it.”

This is why we keep showing up. To be present in both and all spaces. To model a Jewish community that can hold diversity of views and still hold together. To prove that disagreement need not mean division, and that moral courage can live alongside compassion.

Havdalah ends with blessings for distinction between light and darkness, despair and hope. In this moment, we choose hope. We choose to keep showing up, to rebuild together, to light the way toward the world we long for. And one day, those blessings will not be about longing for peace, but about living in it.