ISRAEL — Painter Binyamin Buchbinder, on Kibbutz Bror Hayil, photographed by Micha Bar-Am
When Trauma Transforms

The Post–October 7th Renaissance of Jewish Creativity and Scholarship


By ERIC LANE
Contributing Writer27 January 2025
Since October 7th, 2023, we have seen an incredible upswing in American Jews becoming more involved in the Jewish world and seeking connection to their identity. This desire for connection is manifested in many forms. People who have not gone to a synagogue since their Bar or Bat Mitzvah now attend every Shabbat morning (at least for kiddush). Participation in Jewish campus organizations such as Hillel and Chabad has skyrocketed. Interests in Jewish literacy — be it participation in daf yomi groups, reading Jewish philosophy, or simply asking a rabbi for a siddur to take home — are becoming more common. Jews, young and old, are also increasingly seeking to immerse themselves in Jewish scholarship, whether that means tying a paper assignment to some form of Jewish content, borrowing Jewish history books from libraries, or listening to fantastic historians like Dr. Henry Abrahmson in the background.

But we are also seeing a surge in literary and creative mediums. While this is an area Jewish people have participated in for nearly our entire existence as a people, since October 7th, a new intensification has been occurring. We are seeing amateur artists who once felt passive in their Jewish identity now making it a focal point in their artworks and self-brands. Establishment of writing and poetry workshops to express Jewish identity. Film students draft screenplays into which they pour their Jewish identity. And, of course, new media and literary outlets. We are seeing the establishment of new magazines (you’re reading one at this moment!), attempts to organize small and large-scale zines, blogs, and new fiction and nonfiction books by authors trying to express this manifestation of identity — this an awakening of their neshama. Jewish students in the humanities are now continuously asking how to tie some element of their Jewish identity into term papers and are working on drafts for Call For Papers abstracts and undergraduate journals where they can express their new conscious connection to Am Yisrael.

But one must raise the question: why did it take the pain of October 7th to unleash this flurry of creativity and passion? Is it appropriate to see this as a renaissance of Jewish literacy and creative output, or is it a form of resistance against the wave of antisemitism the Jewish people have not seen in decades? Or is it simply a manifestation of, for lack of a better term, “ethnic therapy?” Is this a defense mechanism, or is it harnessing our neshama, our very soul, like never before? 

Well, like many things in Judaism, it’s complicated.


Or Yogev, 2024. Courtesy the artist.


It cannot be denied this output is a direct response to the ongoing trauma of October 7th, the resurgence of antisemitism from all directions, and continued anxiety in the war. It cannot be denied that for each newly published work comes both organized and unorganized attacks against its very existence by antisemites who attempt to mask their harassment and threats against Jewish people as simply “anti-Zionism.”

We cannot ignore the chants of “globalize the intifada” from classmates and professors and the increased calls and implementations of boycotts against Jewish institutions, Israeli authors, and academics. Every Jewish student wishing to enter academia feels like they must play a careful game of politics that they must bite their tongue when someone expresses an incredibly antisemitic attitude at a conference, and of course, the mentally and emotionally draining matter of trying to figure out if a professor will fail your paper that talks about Jewish history, or that your submissions to journals will be turned away because you haven’t given a loyalty test.

In some ways, the fear of possibly facing these can be harder than when you encounter them. These fears create paralysis, an onslaught of self-doubt, and trepidation in forming good working relationships with professors out of hypotheticals. What once came naturally to you when going to office hours now feels like a maze and something that can make or break your career. Is this rational of us? In all honesty, it, sadly, depends on the campus. In my personal experience, I have had some incredible professors who shattered my preconceived notions and worries, and some who I thought I could trust turned out to have celebrated on October 8th.

It would be irresponsible to ignore the basic fact that we have been forever changed and scarred as a people. We exist in a world cut into two periods: Pre and Post October 7th. When we close our eyes, we see the friends and family lost, Nova in flames, and our hostages’ pain. It is impossible to ignore the reality that so many of these works, these paintings, these books, these very connections we feel, are because of October 7th.

The Terrorist Attack at Nova Music Festival, Zoya Cherkassky. 2023. Mixed media on paper, 24.5×39.5 cm. Courtesy Rosenfeld Gallery



We cannot escape this fact. This anguish. 

We can either try to suppress it, or we can face and channel it. How we face it will depend on each of us. For one, we must be aware of how it affects our mental health and develop strategies to manage it (while one should do further research, look for local mental health resources, etc., some good points I recommend would be looking through the directory of the Jewish Therapist Collective and The Blue Dove Foundation. You can also ask members in your community that you trust for possible local, safe resources). 

Some of us have and will continue to find comfort in learning Jewish texts, talking with rabbis, going to Chabad or Hillel and other Jewish student organizations, or searching for more in-depth resources for our learning as we try to answer “what does it mean to be a Jew to me?”

But there is another outlet: creation. Writing. Academics. Artistry. Speaking. Online content creation. All of these are an expression of your soul as it yearns to scream, “We, the people of Israel, live! Am Yisrael Chai!”

So I beg of you to do two things: the first is to create and participate. Whether it be articles like this, poems, academic articles, manuscripts, songs, drawings, or anything else, stop telling yourself you’re not good enough. As Hemingway said: the first draft is sh*t. Keep going.
“But no one is accepting it, they’ll boycott it, so what’s the point?”

That is the exact reason why you must! Why you must try!

It doesn’t have to be some grand manifesto, a work of scholarship that will change the field, or a mural that will cover a building. It can be as small as an Instagram post, a blog of rambles, or a doodle you post online. It can be a short story, a magnum opus, or a poem. A sketch, a giant painting, or some nice stickers. It can be a book that changes a part of the field of Jewish history, an article in a magazine (cough cough), a blog post, or submitting to an open call for papers or presentations. 

Create. Let your anguish turn to hope.

And you may get hate. If it puts you in danger and hurts your mental health, pause and look for different outlets, but you can do this. 

The second: engage. Talk with your peers, both Jewish and non-Jewish. Help promote the works of your brothers and sisters when you find it appropriate. Try to collaborate when you can. Critique each other in constructive ways. And work with allies. Not clout chasers, but real allies. Read, read, read. Discuss, discuss, discuss. Put in a purchase request to your college and local libraries for books written by Israeli and Jewish authors, especially those being blacklisted right now.

Read books about Jewish history, philosophy, and thought.  Give the Rebbe or Heschel a try. Rent a book of Sholem Aleichem’s works. Write to your deans asking them to invest in their Jewish Studies classes and faculty. Ask Jewish organizations on your campus to consider outlets to support creative works for Jewish students and access to books and sources about Judaism. There is so much every single one of us can do to engage in this renaissance. Yes, renaissance. It may be born from pain, from trauma, from the anguish of peoplehood (See  Dr. Mijal Bitton’s That Pain You’re Feeling Is Peoplehood), but this is a renaissance. A rebirth of Jewish creativity born from fire and tears.

We have yet to see all the effects of this resurgence of modern Jewish works. What will be its effects on Jewish studies? Will small-scale outlets die down and fizzle away or lead to new staples in the world of Jewish literature? Will the college Jewish activists of today be the leaders of the ADL tomorrow? What new organizations shall form to meet what needs? Will religious and secular Jewish works become best sellers again? Shall Zionist academics be able to keep their feet in academia? Will we see an increase in learning about the diversity of Jewish heritage, minhag, and more? Will American Jews become more involved in Israeli politics, literature, and religious matters? Shall we see an increase in Hebrew learning in American Jewish adults? Will your Jewish mother stop asking you when you will become a rabbi-doctor-lawyer and win 12 Nobel prizes? … Okay, that one might not change.

Yes, our hearts still ache. We do not have all our people home yet. Our brothers and sisters are still fighting. But Am Yisrael still lives. We are still here. Now, let us create. Be it art, word, science, or something else, just create. Be a part of a movement. Not to be accepted by others, to please those around you, but to lift yourself.

For, in the words of Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel, “The hour calls for moral grandeur and spiritual audacity.”
I am excited to see your creativity flourish.




Building the global Jewish consciousness.


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