A couple months into the Israel-Hamas war, a Fort Worth rabbi reached out to an imam to express his grief on what was happening in Israel and Gaza. 

But it was more than just that, said Rabbi Brian Zimmerman. He wanted to reach out to a friend. 

Zimmerman knew Imam Moujahed Bakhach from years of interfaith work they had done together. The two also served together in the faith cabinet convened by the Fort Worth mayor.

“This is a devastating time for both of our communities,” Zimmerman wrote in a Dec. 7 email to Bakhach. “I just wanted you to know that I am keeping you and your community in my prayers and unlike what you may, or may not hear in the news, I am praying as much for the innocent victims in Gaza caught up in a cycle of violence that they did not initiate as much as I pray for the hostages from Israel.”

Zimmerman is the senior rabbi of Beth-El Congregation, a Fort Worth synagogue off Hulen Street near the Southwest Regional Library. Bakhach was a longtime imam at the Islamic Association of Tarrant County, with a mosque off of Hulen Street near Central Market. He’s now a licensed mediator, working with the Muslim community on personal matters. 

“I pray too for peace for all in that region and w/ our best wishes to say enough fighting and killing innocent people on both sides,” Bakhach wrote in his response to Zimmerman. “It’s very tragic.” 

At that time, Bakhach believed it would not be “wise” to do interfaith work between the communities. Emotions were too raw following the Oct. 7 Hamas attacks on Israel and the Israeli invasion of Gaza that followed. 

He thought the war would end soon, and the communities could have a dialogue once things went back to “normal.” Normal never came.

“This (war), it’s much, much beyond our imagination, and nobody expected that,” said Bakhach, who is familiar with war. He grew up in north Lebanon, where he says military helicopters flew over him because there were Palestinian refugee camps there. “What surprises (me is) seeing the intentional killing of children, hospitals, doctors — what no human can describe.” 

A year after the Oct. 7 attacks, the Israel-Hamas war wages on, with an expansion of the conflict into Lebanon this September. Around 1,200 Israelis were killed by Hamas, which the U.S. Department of State considers a terrorist group, on Oct. 7, with more than 250 taken hostage, according to Israel’s foreign ministry. 

More than 41,000 Palestinians have been killed by Israeli forces, more than half of them women and children, according to the Gaza Health Ministry. Another 93,000 have been injured as of last month, according to the ministry’s September estimates. 

Nine in 10 Gazans have been displaced from their home at least once since the conflict began, according to the United Nations Population Fund. In September, the war expanded in Lebanon, with more than 2,000 Lebanese killed, according to Lebanon’s health ministry. The numbers of casualties continues to climb as the war goes on. 

Since the war began on Oct. 7, 2023, Tarrant County residents have navigated friendships, interfaith work and responses from government officials. Some have gathered for vigils or protests on college campuses. Fort Worth officials issued a proclamation in support of Israel and the Jewish community, while Arlington officials met with residents who supported a ceasefire resolution.

Marking the one-year anniversary of the war, members of Jewish and Muslim communities share how a conflict 7,000 miles away from Fort Worth has shaped their lives — and their fears for the future. 

Grief, shock in days following Oct. 7, 2023 

Sheri Allen, a cantor and co-founder of Makom Shelanu, remembers Oct. 8, 2023, clearly. It was Simchat Torah, a Jewish observance that follows the Jewish autumn festival, Sukkot, and the sacred holy days Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur. 

Simchat Torah is considered one of the most joyous holidays in the Jewish faith. However, on that day, Allen and others were learning about Hamas’ deadly attack on Israel. 

“It’s a day where we dance with the Torahs, like a lot, like a lot of dancing with the Torahs and celebrating. How could we do that on this day? We couldn’t,” Allen said. 

Allen was one of hundreds who attended a vigil at Beth-El Congregation in the days following. Congregants and guests sat with their families and loved ones, holding small versions of the Israeli flag.

Rabbi Andrew Bloom from Congregation Ahavath Sholom, a Jewish synagogue in Fort Worth, was one of the religious and civic leaders who took to the bema, an elevated platform, for prayer, song and reciting religious text during the October 2023 vigil. 

Bloom served two-and-a-half years in the Israeli army as a combat medic in an artillery unit in Lebanon, the West Bank and Gaza.

What happened on that day “changed the psyche for every Jew around the world,” Bloom said. A year later, Bloom said he continues to spend a lot of his time trying to reassure the Jewish community of their safety. 

Fort Worth Mayor Mattie Parker and City Council member Elizabeth Beck presented a proclamation of support for the state of Israel, the Jewish Federation of Fort Worth and Tarrant County, and the Jewish community a week following the vigil. 

“I personally and professionally think Fort Worth and Tarrant County have been incredible and supportive,” Bloom said. “It wasn’t just the day after. It wasn’t just that event. I get calls from city leaders all the time. … I think it’s been very supportive here.” 

Weeks following the proclamation, Tarrant County residents showed up to Fort Worth City Hall and public comment meetings to show solidarity with Palestinians. A group of residents read a proclamation on Oct. 24 to let elected officials know that they stand in support of the Palestinian community. 

“We want our Tarrant County community to know that we are acting in solidarity with the Palestinian resistance and liberation. We demand a free Palestine. We will not be silenced. We want everyone to know that there is a community of people here in Tarrant County who is fighting and will continue to fight for a free Palestine,” the proclamation read.

Bakhach said he wants local government officials and other interfaith leaders to address the deadly cost of war in Gaza. He isn’t aware of any efforts to address the Muslim community, he said. Parker did not return the Report’s request for comment. 

“I wish that every church, as people of God, to stand up and to pray for peace in that region and to ask our government leaders to stop this nonsense and killing innocent people,” Bakhach said. 

Amid the division, what has been helpful for Allen is focusing on organizations that share messages about peace. 

“We need now to focus our messages and our words on comforting each other and supporting each other and loving each other, and not all this speech about blaming and hating you,” Allen said. “What I really have found is best for me to focus on is not to retreat into our own corners and silos, and focus on how we build bridges.” 

Interfaith groups navigate conversations, dialogue 

Elizabeth Shaheed, an African-American Muslim woman in Weatherford, has been a member of Daughters of Abraham for over 20 years. It’s an interfaith discussion group of local Jewish, Muslim and Christian women.

During a meeting at the end of October last year, the group did discuss the “horrific nature” of everything, Shaheed said. They conducted a communal prayer for the innocent people on both sides, but together decided that it was too big of an issue to take on as an interfaith group. The group has held to that belief. 

“It’s like, we’re purposely not talking about it, and it’s under the surface. You know what I mean?” said Shaheed, who grew up as a Baptist and converted to Islam. “It’s kind of always there.” 

As the war continues, Shaheed wonders if there’s a way that the group can discuss the conflict in a manner that leads to a better understanding of others and doesn’t just rehash the same issues.

Creating a space for real conversations and dialogue has been on Southlake resident Howard Rosenthal’s mind, too. In the aftermath of the “Unite the Right” rally in 2017, where white nationalists marched in Charlottesville, he created the group Peace Together. 

One of the group’s main events is a Peace Walk. They begin at the Colleyville Masjid and make their way to Congregation Beth Israel, crossing a distance of about 3 miles.

“We’ve given out an index card or a piece of paper with a few general thoughts that would trigger discussions about the importance of these relationships,” said Rosenthal, who encourages participants to talk to someone they don’t know, someone from a different faith and someone who does not look like them. “We try to build this mutual respect.”

In 2023, the Peace Walk was scheduled for November. Due to security concerns, Rosenthal and walk organizers decided to make the event virtual. 

When Rosenthal was discussing with a local Muslim leader whether or not to have a walk this year, the leader thought it might be better to have a different kind of event. For the second year in a row, Rosenthal has shifted his plans. 

“I’m going to go forward with an effort to try to have an event, maybe with a few speakers, talking about the importance of what Peace Together is about,” said Rosenthal. “It’s about building these relationships and maintaining them.”

Tarrant County residents share how the war overseas has affected them personally. 

Barry Abels

 ‘Is there an end in sight?’ 

Barry Abels, executive director for the Jewish Federation of Fort Worth and Tarrant County, dropped his nephew, a medic in the Israeli Defense Forces, off at the airport in October 2023. He reflects on the year since. The response has been edited for clarity and length. 

We’ve been in the midst of planning a commemoration for the occurrence this last year. When I look at some of the materials, I see faces of literally hundreds of people who are gone, and reflect on the fact that I know people who had immediate families that have been lost. 

My older nephew is a medic, and he has been training other medics. He has been in and out of battle areas, but he spends just as much time training, so compared to some, he’s been relatively safe. 

I think we’re close. I remember quite a bit of him, and his brothers as well, when they were younger, when he was first born. He played kids’ basketball, he was in the league. I remember them coming to visit a number of times, obviously going there to visit with the family. I was in Israel for my nephew’s bar mitzvah.

I remember my brother and his wife saying, as (my nephew) got older, “Oh, he’s got this girlfriend.” It’s such typical parental stuff. They have a very large extended family, and it was always fun being over there with our family and being able to celebrate those family celebrations, those rites of passage.

Then, of course, he went in (the Israeli Defense Forces), like all Israelis … it’s mandatory service. He’s really grasped onto this. I think he has an expectation of serving beyond the requirement, which is, I think, very admirable. My youngest son and daughter-in-law are both in the American Army, so that also hits home for me as well. 

Reaching my nephew is difficult because that’s not always doable when he’s on duty. He does get to come home some weekends, so I’m able to talk with him at that point, just check up on him and see how he’s doing. 

Being loyal to his task, being a medic, feeling like he’s playing an important role in defending his country — it’s a very strong value that comes through clearly. The eight-hour time difference is a little frustrating. I stay in touch with my brother on a very frequent basis. We try to communicate during that window where it’s our morning, it is afternoon or evening (there), but lately it’s concerning. Like today, when we’re communicating, he’s telling me about the rockets coming in and how they’re stuck.

I was on a conference call earlier today with other federation colleagues and people who live near the border of Lebanon. As we’re having our conference call, I’m hearing sirens. That’s disconcerting. You don’t know if someone that you’re close to is going to survive that.

My two other nephews had been in another community, and they were traveling home, and that’s when the rockets were raining down, and so they were stuck for several hours. And it’s like this tragedy of Oct. 7 occurred, and the question is, will it ever be over? The loss of life continues to grow. Is there an end in sight? Are the hostages going to be released? How many of them are actually still alive? 

It just is sad and painful to know that so many are unknown in terms of their fate. It’s very painful. As somebody who’s Jewish, somebody whose family is in Israel, you can’t disconnect.

There’s concern for our families and friends in Israel, there’s concern for people’s well-being because of the amount of stress that produces. I know that in every congregation, additional prayers have been added to regular services that pray for the return of hostages, that pray for the safety of people, praying for peace, trying to find a way to make sure that people can keep a grip on things. 

You worry constantly. You’re concerned constantly. It goes beyond just your immediate family. So as much as I think of my nephew, I also think about how so much of what’s going on in the world is insane.

How did we get here? We got here through history, where we’ve had insane periods all along our history. It’s a shame. You would think, in 2024, we’ve learned how to grow up. But it doesn’t feel that way a lot of the time.

Mustafa Khalaf

‘There really is no justice, no humanity’

Mustafa Khalaf was born and raised in Gaza. Since the Israel-Hamas war began, he has lost his home, family members and his sense of hope for his homeland. He reflects on his experiences in Gaza and the U.S. since Oct. 7, 2023. The response has been edited for clarity and length.

I lost my sister. I lost my home in this war in Gaza. Sometimes at night, I cannot sleep because I remember what’s happened. Why am I suffering a lot, really? I don’t have a place to stay. That’s why I came to America. That’s why I came to Arlington eight years ago to be with my children.

I was in Gaza City when Oct. 7 happened. I was there for work, helping diagnose some difficult cancer cases. When they started to kill us in Gaza City, I left and went to my sister’s house in Bureij camp. I stay with her about a month.

I tried to go back to America. I went four times, five times to the Egyptian border near Rafah. It was very dangerous. They refused me to go. I’m an American citizen.

I spoke with the American embassy in Jerusalem, Tel Aviv and Cairo several times, trying to get a flight back to America. Finally at the end of November — Nov. 20 — the embassy arranged for me to cross the border at Rafah to Egypt.

When Israeli soldiers invaded Gaza, they destroyed the electricity station. They destroyed everything. There is no electricity, no water. Do you believe it? I was in my sister’s house, we would not have anything to clean ourselves, to eat, to drink.

Some of my brothers and sisters are still in Gaza. One sister, who had hypertension and diabetes, lived near Al-Shifa Hospital in Gaza City.

When the war started, she moved to Khan Younis to stay with relatives and then to Rafah to live in a tent city. It was November to March, and it was cold and it rained. There was no medication. She died four months ago at 80 years old.

Her grandson was killed by a strike. He was 19. He was going to go to the university in Gaza to be an engineer, one of the best schools. He went with his uncle to look for food. There was an airstrike. The uncle lost both his legs, the bomb made him into two pieces. 

My cousin escaped. He paid bribes to the Egyptian officials — maybe $10,000 per person — to cross the border at Rafah. His 4-year-old son was rescued from the rubble of his home. Only his hand was showing and his fingers.

His son moved his fingers to say that I am still alive, so they realize he’s not dead. Otherwise, in the picture of that day, there were white bags everywhere.

If you have ethics in any war in any part of the world, you should remove the rubble by heavy machinery. There is none. In Gaza, we remove rubble by hand. 

The point is there really is no justice, no humanity. I see on the media, they only care about 100 hostages. What about the thousands of people’s homes being destroyed and children killed and women? What about the tens of thousands dead? What is their story?

Maybe six months ago, in March, I found out my house was destroyed in Gaza City. I bought it 13 years ago. A few days after it was destroyed, my friend sent me a picture by WhatsApp of my broken, damaged house. There was a garden, some trees, a water fountain. I was to live there and retire there.

I was shocked. But really, what will I do? At the end, I look for myself and my kids. Are they safe? At least, most of the people (are) still alive. We give thanks to God. That things (are) not important now, your life is more important. 

I would say, why I came to America? If I have my country, I will not come. If I imagine this will be happening to my life, I will not marry. I will not get kids. Why (lose) our country? Why damage our country? Believe me. If we are not strong enough, we can die from this depression. Nothing comes easy.

I think there is no human sense for this. And we are here. When I came to America, they told me, this is Dreamland. It’s not a dreamland. 

Calls for more city involvement 

Palestinian Americans and community advocates in the Muslim faith made their voices heard at Fort Worth and Arlington City Council meetings in the months immediately following Israel’s invasion of Gaza. 

Mohammed Ayachi, with the Muslim Coalition for Palestine, told Arlington City Council during a Jan. 9 public comment meeting that he wanted to see city councils like Arlington’s pass a resolution calling for a ceasefire between Israeli and Hamas forces. 

Weeks later, Arlington City Council was to discuss a resolution in support of a ceasefire between Israel and Hamas militants, Mayor Jim Ross said during a Jan. 21 teach-in at Dar El-Eman Islamic Center. 

Ayachi said he felt some acknowledgement from city leaders at that time, but he hasn’t seen a resolution yet. 

“I don’t know who he talked to. I don’t know what they discussed. We don’t know any details. So we were all very disappointed,” Ayachi said. “I can’t even look at the city of Arlington the same way anymore.” 

Ross, along with City Council members Raul Gonzalez, Long Pham and Nikkie Hunter, did not specify whether they would vote for a ceasefire resolution during the January 2024 teach-in meeting, but said they wanted to support the Muslim and Palestinian communities. Ross did not return a request for comment. 

“I’m against anything that kills people, whether it’s domestic violence or whatever. The ceasefire needs to happen, obviously. Anywhere throughout the world, it needs to happen,” Gonzalez said at the Jan. 21 event. 

Tarrant County residents navigate relationships 

One of the things that has been on Jeffrey Cohen’s mind for the past year is the Israeli people who have been or continue to be held hostage by Hamas. 

He and his wife attend Congregation Beth Israel in Colleyville. For Cohen, thinking about the hostages hits close to home. In 2022, Cohen and three other members of the synagogue were held hostage for 11 hours. 

The door that Cohen and the others escaped from now bears pictures of people who have been held hostage over the past year. 

“I posted the posters and the faces of people who were held hostage, and I’ve had the very unpleasant task of having to pull certain ones of them down when they are announced that they’re dead,” Cohen said. 

Cohen, a Jewish American who said he supports Israel, is one of many people across the U.S. who say their personal relationships have been strained since the war. 

The relationships that have experienced the most tension are not with friends of Cohen who have family in Palestine, as those discussions are based on mutual respect, Cohen said. 

Rather, it’s people Cohen has known, either online or in-person, who have said hostile or prejudiced things to Cohen or about Jewish people, he said. Antisemitic incidents hit a record high in 2023 amid the war, according to a January 2024 report by the Anti-Defamation League. 

“I’ve lost a fair number of friends,” Cohen said, referring to one friend who he met online and one that he knew since college. “Losing friends hurts, but you know, it’s hard to realize that certain people really have an awful lot of hatred in their heart.” 

Anti-Muslim incidents also hit a record high in 2023, according to the Council on American-Islamic Relations. 

Ruba Akkad is Palestinian and grew up in Fort Worth. She went to the University of Texas at Arlington for her undergraduate degree and earned her Ph.D. at Texas Christian University. As an alum, Akkad said she is proud to see students from UTA participate in protests in support of Palestine. 

Being Palestinian has always felt like it’s had a political identity, she said, but since Oct. 7, it’s been amplified. Conversations with her non-Arab, non-Muslim friends — as well as random acquaintances — have been a wake-up call, she said. 

“The main sort of conversations or points that I hear people making, ‘We’re all complicit. All of our tax money goes to this,’” Akkad said, recalling the conversations she’s had with both Arab and non-Arab people. 

At this point, “there’s no longer an excuse of not knowing,” Akkad said. She’s not trying to spend time talking with people who come into the conversation to just disagree. 

“I just don’t waste my time trying to convince anyone of my people’s humanity,” Akkad said. “That’s not what I ever want to do. I’m not going to beg anyone to see my people, because we are human and we have a right to resist. We have a right to life.” 

Looking to holy texts for guidance

A year later, Bakhach is still thinking about the email Zimmerman sent him last December. Now, he’s planning on replying so the two can meet, break bread together and plan an event in 2025.

“That’s my prayer, my hope, my wishes, that 2025 will be a new beginning of bringing us back again together to sit, to discuss and visit,” the Muslim faith leader said. 

Bakhach recalled a Qur’anic verse that guides him in this time. It’s from Surah Al-Hujarat, chapter 49, verse 13, and he translates a part of it:

“We have made you into a nation and tribes, so that you may know each other (not that you may despise each other).” 

Coming out of the High Holy Days and the Oct. 7 anniversary date, Zimmerman said the teachings from the Book of Micah are guiding him into the Jewish new year, which began at sundown on Oct. 2 and continued through the evening of Oct. 4. 

“Loving others and being humble and remembering the divine image of others,” Zimmerman said, referring to Hebrew biblical teachings. “I hope that I succeed there more often than I fail. It’s not easy to do.” 

Marissa Greene is a Report for America corps member, covering faith for the Fort Worth Report.

Shomial Ahmad is a higher education reporter for the Fort Worth Report, in partnership with Open Campus. 

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