It’s been two weeks since The Column That Launched a Thousand Ships. And I want to preface this one by saying that it is no apology, but rather an addendum.

The chaos that my column spurred, while not completely unexpected, certainly reflects a reality: It hit a sore, sore spot for many. I originally wrote it because there had not been anything in The Sun about the Israel/Gaza situation. I felt that strong feelings must be festering on all fronts that would doubtlessly explode soon. Indeed, I learned that I was not the only one whose “fire had been ignited” over break — people from all political persuasions, from all religions, took my column and used it to explode all over the place.

There is really only one specific part of “The Wrong to Remain Silent” that I want to clarify. It is the line that reads, “American Jews: this is to you, to those who concern themselves more with laws of kashrut — with proper ways of killing animals, partially so that they feel the least amount of pain — than with laws that deal with our own humankind.”

First of all, here, I did not mean to stereotype all American Jews as observers kashrut — or that there is anything wrong with practicing it. Quite the opposite. I was raised in a kosher home, and was always taught that observing kashrut was a way of inserting a daily godliness into our lives. In fact, with Conservative Judaism’s ambitious introduction of hekhsher tzedek, kashrut has become more tied to ethics and social justice than ever before.

If only we could observe a similar godliness in our everyday interactions with all people.

The rest, well, I think the rest of the column is self-explanatory. In response, I don’t feel the need to go off on huge tangents as many of my readers did, leaving me with theses that spanned twice the length of my original column.

The column was not about Hamas — and because it wasn’t about Hamas, I became a Hamas sympathizer. The column wasn’t about the failure of the international community to do enough about the rockets being fired into Israel — and because of that, I was labeled ignorant. The column wasn’t about “Israel being the only democracy in the Middle East” or any other statements that readers posted, which seemed to have come directly from an Israeli government press release.

The day after my column was published, I attended Newark Mayor Cory Booker’s talk at The State Theatre. Words cannot describe what I felt as Mr. Booker, a black former-football player, breathlessly described his journey into the soul of spiritual Judaism. This journey, figuratively accompanied by leaders such as Maimonides, led him to become the head of Oxford’s L’Chaim Society when he was studying there as a Rhodes Scholar. I reflected on the Hillel quote that has had an enormous influence over me: “If I am not for myself, who will be for me? If I am only for myself, what am I? And if not now, when?”

The past few days, I have received what seemed like countless comments from people in my own Jewish mishpacha who were quick to shun me and de-legitimize my Judaism. One writer who chose to remain anonymous, for example, tastefully informed me how I shame God, my ancestors, defile myself daily and should take a bath. And there, sitting in the State Street auditorium, I felt disappointed that so many members of this extended family didn’t seem to get it. Yet, I also felt the profound spiritual interconnectedness that Cory Booker seemed to get.

Because the unfortunate truth remains: The reactions to my article only served to corroborate the point that anything critical of Israel gets pounced on in this campus and in most of this country. Or sometimes anything critical gets physically ripped out of the ground, like the IAJ signs with quotes from Amnesty International and the U.N. in the Arts Quad yesterday. Talk about erasure of facts.

I am quite sure no human enjoys being put in the position of martyrdom to one “side” and treachery to another. Therefore, I encourage all the people who wrote in criticisms to talk to those who wrote in praise. But please, let’s avoid the low blows and assumptions about one’s personal spiritual practices.

One writer wrote that she pities me, for I lack pride in American Jewry. She could not be more wrong. My Judaism — a tradition of dissent, of deconstructing, of social justice — informs my decisions. And as an American Jew, the obligation to speak up when actions are taken under the guise of protecting my religious freedom is exactly my pride.