(By Bar Shamrish)
Yesterday morning, the alarms blared once more. As an Israeli, it wasn’t the first time I had heard them, but this time, they struck a deeper chord—exactly as they had a year ago on October 7th, 2023.
On that day, I woke up to a nightmare—a day unlike any I had ever experienced in this country. It was a day of fear, shock, and awe, a deadly surprise that forever changed us. All of us were glued to our screens, searching for answers and explanations. What we found were images of horror, stories that are so gut-wrenching they’re hard to believe, as the nightmare unfolded before us. Hundreds of Hamas militants broke through the Gaza border, storming Israeli towns and communities. They slaughtered civilians indiscriminately—men, women, children, and even the elderly. Entire families were massacred in their homes. Some burned alive. Young children were taken hostage or murdered in front of their parents. Kibbutzim, where families thought they were safe, became scenes of unimaginable bloodshed. The images of those atrocities—bodies of young children wrapped in bloodied blankets, parents shielding their children in their final moments—seared into our collective consciousness.
Yesterday felt different. It was as though we had stepped into an all-new Memorial Day, but this one was filled with raw, unhealed wounds. Stories of that bloody Saturday flooded the airwaves, like that of the mother who hid her children in the closet while blood-thirsty murderers tried to break into their safe room. Or the “about to retire, too old for this” police officer who cleared his neighborhood of gunmen with just his personal gun and sheer courage. The heroic reservists who left behind their partners and children, donned their fatigues, went to save our country, and never returned.
Horrible videos that Hamas themselves published showed bodies mutilated beyond recognition, with Hamas fighters celebrating the brutalities they committed. The most disturbing videos showed members of Hamas dragging civilians out of their homes, executing them in the streets, and desecrating their remains. Footage emerged of kidnapped civilians—men, women, children, even babies—being paraded through Gaza as trophies, with crowds cheering. The explicit hatred was like nothing we had ever seen, and it left our nation reeling.
As if the horror of the massacre wasn’t enough, something equally disturbing unfolded in parts of the West. In the days following the attack, massive pro-Hamas - not to be identified as pro-Palestinian - protests erupted across major cities in Western countries. Some of these protests were overt in their support for the actions of Hamas, glorifying violence as “resistance” and justifying the slaughter, kidnapping, and abuse of innocent Israeli civilians. At universities across Europe and North America, particularly in the U.S., pro-Palestinian encampments appeared - and while some legitimately called for freedom and peace for Palestinians, no insignificant numbers of students and faculty held rallies that bordered on outright support for the violent actions of Hamas. Posters of kidnapped Israeli civilians were torn down, and slogans like “From the river to the sea, Palestine will be free” echoed on campuses—a slogan that means that Israel should be dismantled and Israelis should be displaced. Even more shocking was the silence, or worse, the tacit approval from some of the academic institutions themselves. Free speech and the right to protest, of course, must be protected. Still, when that speech turns into open advocacy for violence or denying the self-determination of a group of people, it forces us to ask difficult questions about the lens in which certain groups in the West observe this conflict.
An anti-Israel protester ripping down posters of Hamas hostages (left) and anti-Israel protesters in Baltimore City (right) (TND/Gary Collins).
A year later, the sorrow is immense, the pain unbearable. Millions of Palestinians are suffering enormously - injured, displaced, and killed - from the war that Hamas has brought upon them. The presence of Hamas militants and arms within civilian population is another factor contributing to the Palestinian suffering, as it is clear that the leaders of Hamas could not care less about their actions’ implications on the people they claim to lead. Their constant refusal to temporary ceasefires that will feel the Gaza strip with aid is a major factor in the dire shortage of food and medicine.
Yet, within this tragedy, something remarkable happened: we stood up. We pushed back. In the face of chaos and death, ordinary citizens banded together to uplift and serve one another. They filled the ranks of those who had fallen and supported those who lost almost everything. A nation of lions, shaken to its core yet resilient when it mattered most.
There’s a saying in Judaism from the sages, Chazal: “All of Israel is responsible for one another.” Since that tragic Saturday, it has felt like a living truth here in Israel. People of every background—Jews and Arabs, religious and secular, members of the LGBTQ+ community and those who are not, Ashkenazi, Sephardic, Mizrahi, and Ethiopian Jews—have sought each other’s well-being, offering help, comfort, and healing.
This unity gave me hope for the country I love. It deepened my Zionist identity - the simple belief that Jews must be able to live free in their own democratic state - and forced me to confront uncomfortable truths about my own perspectives. I began to understand what Golda Meir meant, as President Biden later echoed when she said, “We have no place to go.” It wasn’t merely a statement of geographic limitation but a testament to our strength, unity, and determination that defines our people. Our true power lies not just in our history or our land but in our solidarity with one another—that unique blueprint of the Israeli spirit.
A year has passed since October 7th, 2023, and we have yet to rise fully from the “Shiva” of that day. Despite the passage of time and the rallying cry that emerged from every corner of this nation, the wounds are deep, and the scars will linger. But we must never lose hope. As the French author François de La Rochefoucauld wrote: “Hope is the last thing that dies in man; and though it be exceedingly deceitful, yet it is of this good use to us, that while we are traveling through life, it conducts us in an easier and more pleasant way to our journey’s end.”
We, the eternal Jewish people, must cling to hope.
The hope is that one day, Israelis and Palestinians will realize that only through peaceful coexistence could an Israeli state and a Palestinian state live side by side and end once and for all the bloodshed. But it has to come from both sides, from true recognition by the other group. That the abolishment of Israel, or a one-state solution, is the antithesis of it - but also rejecting Palestinian desire for self-determination is.
Though our journey is long, hope lights our way.
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