October 7 Reflections
Today is October 7.
It is hard to believe that three years have passed since that monstrous day — a day forever seared in the memory of our people, forever a marker of before and after.
The magnitude of the date weighs so heavily that it has asserted itself as a permanent fixture on the Jewish psychological calendar. Rosh Hashanah, Yom Kippur, Sukkot, Simchat Torah, October 7.
As families began to take their sukkot down earlier this week around my neighborhood in Pardes Hannah, Israel, a sombreness settled in their place, and my social media feeds began to fill with stories of October 7.
The harrowing recording of the police call made by Michael and Amalia Idan, aged 9 and 6, right after they’d watched their parents be killed.
A cheerful selfie taken by the Nahal Oz tatspitaniyot, surveillance soldiers, enjoying a festive meal at the base on the evening of October 6, 2023. From the next day, some of these faces would be plastered across every town in Israel and around the world for 476 days, until their release from captivity. Others would never smile again.
And of course, my feed was full of countless images of the free spirits of the Nova festival, who will forever remain frozen in their carefree youth.
This is the first year that we mark the date without hostages in Gaza. The first time, in a sense, that we commemorate the day as a chapter finally closed. But the reality is October 7 is not a closed chapter. It is still very much open — still a painful, bleeding, open wound.
After three years of war, our country is not far enough along the path to healing and repair.
Victims’ families are still demanding answers from the government, which has refused to establish a state commission of inquiry into October 7 and its aftermath. Thousands of survivors continue to suffer from severe, chronic PTSD and do not receive adequate support from the state. Entire communities uprooted from the North and the South have not yet been able to fully rebuild. Thousands of families of miluimnikim, reserve soldiers, are still struggling under the mental and financial toll of a vastly unfair share of the burden of endless active service.
And we all know that the wars triggered by October 7 are not really over. With no permanent diplomatic solutions to end war across its multiple fronts, we know that we could be running to our shelters again at any second.
For many of us, the ongoing suffering in Gaza and escalation of violence in the West Bank are additional sources of despair. We know that only a political horizon can bring real security and hope for the future.
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Last week, we were all stunned by the dramatic story of how an injured pilot and passengers thwarted a terror attack on a flydubai flight to Tel Aviv. Watching the extraordinary footage, my mind immediately went back to October 7, 2023. On that day, while shocked news anchors tried to convey the scale of what was unfolding in real time, our political leaders responded with grim silence and the army was nowhere to be seen.
But ordinary Israelis jumped in. Some raced to the scene and saved countless lives, others organized to collect provisions for what they could immediately see was going to be a humanitarian crisis of unprecedented proportions. This same Israeli spirit of arevut hadadit, collective responsibility, was clear on that flydubai flight. And it is clear among the Israeli people who are organizing as we gear up for consequential elections in just 20 days.
At NCJW, we are also playing our part by supporting our Israeli feminist partners to drive forward a future of equity and a route to healing for women and girls. Through the collaborative initiatives of our Connecting for Impact platform, Israeli feminist leaders are organizing to ensure that women will have a seat at every table where fateful decisions for the country are being made. They are also working to make sure that state institutions will be better equipped to support the most vulnerable women and girls in Israeli society.
On this day, our hearts are heavy as we think of all we lost on October 7 and since — and of so many families who are still picking up the pieces of profound personal loss. But still we hold hope, as we stand with the ordinary Israelis — activists, leaders, changemakers — who are forging a path forward for us all through the enduring Israeli spirit of arevut hadadit.