Counting the silence

As Jews, we can give you numbers.
1200, 251, 6 million. We have a lot of accountants.
Numbers R Us.

But how do you measure nothing?

How do you count the calls that didn’t come, the messages you didn’t get?

What’s the math for the silence? Is there a formula?

Sometimes, I start with 3.

You saw 3 of my posts, or I mentioned it 3 times. I heard nothing.

We had at least three conversations about your worries, why have we had zero about mine?

Three is how many times I repeat to myself I didn’t support other causes to expect payback.
0 is the number of times I expected the Jews would need it.

Fifteen is the body count so far from  Bondi, 4 weeks ago.
We know they wish it were 15 million. Genocide is about intent, afterall.

Three is the generations of stories of antisemitism we’ve usually individually heard in our own families, passed down.
We know the score.

3 is also the months it took the UN Council on Women to mention the rapes by Hamas on Israeli women on Oct 7, whereas 24 is the hours they waited to attack Israel when the UN called Gaza ‘famine’

Ten million is the dollars the Australian government spent on protecting people’s right to scream against our existence and that investment really paid off at about 670,000 dollars spent per dead person from terrorism. But it was less than 48 hours after the Hamas attack in Israel that thousands of supporters started doing that, and all the Jews were told to stay home.

2 is the months between when the hostage crisis just about ended and when we got shot at again. There were 2 shooters. There was 1 child who died. Two holocaust survivors.

Does that make 119,985 people genocide survivors now in this Lucky Land?

Who knows? How do you measure grief anyway?

Rivers of tears?
Endless nights?
Worried looks?
Broken dreams?

The thoughts and prayers? That minute of silence?
60 seconds.
4 seconds per innocent human being’s  life. Ta. Cheers, thanks  a lot, Sydney.
Happy New Year for you!

One day of mourning.

The adding up has changed, of course. There are new lists to count.
Vigils, funerals, shloshims attended. People still in hospital (7).
Days  the leadership refused to provide a royal commission 25.

Moments some of the worst culprits have showed respect at memorials. None.

All of those things matter.

But for the longest time, I’ve been trying to figure out how you count nothing.

How to trap silence in a test tube and take it to the lab. What is it made of?

Because we know damn well where it brought us.

Why is the Silence so loud when there’s so much of it?
And how come most people can’t hear it?

27 years is how long I’ve known one friend. We started the same job together. Decent person with a wicked sense of humour and an infectious laugh. Caring, thoughtful, kind.

A thousand times we’ve reassured the other that problems can be solved this way or that, minimum 5000 x don’t worry, 10,000 it’s ok’s and yet it only took 2 comments:

“Why are you doing this?” she asked me on Insta.
“Leave the Palestinians alone”.

So I sent her 2 Facebook reels at 2 minutes each to relay current issues, but 0 is the time she took and 6 is the months since I’ve heard from her. 4 is the minutes our relationship wasn’t worth.

She isn’t the only one, not by a country mile. There’s no tally for those friends because I can’t remember most of them.

Ages was how long it took me to get it through my head that the rules really were different for Jews even in Australia. 90 is the degree of my learning curve in just over 2 years.

We can’t afford to look back at the ruins of what was. The Way We Were is a Streisand song, not the way we are.

It’s never going to be the same, but for us, change is what we know for sure, 100%.

And anyway, heaps is the amount of wonderful comments I’ve had on social media from other Jews who understand. A bunch is how many new friends I’ve made in the same time.

Late is how long we talk for and randomly is how often I burst out laughing at how much we agree while barely knowing each other. Not long at all is the time it takes to connect now and it’s super cool.

A gazillion is the times stronger my backbone grew, my understanding is, and the minimum memories I’ve had of what the relatives insisted while we rolled our eyes.

Realisations: infinite.

Forever is how grateful I’m going to be for what’s come out of all this evil, endless is the light I see around me from unknown but  kindred spirits, and never is when I’ll forget, stop fighting, or quit loving Jews.

Just count me in. That’s enough.

Tanya Levin is an lecturer and educator at Charles Darwin University.