A Wide Range of Emotions in a Short Period of Time
Being in Israel can generate such a wide range of extreme emotions in a very short period of time. This is the reality of life in Israel, especially during the last two weeks.
Jews have just finished celebrating the festival of Sukkot, known in the Christian world as the Feast of Tabernacles. Never in my life have I experienced such a range of emotions in such a short period as I did this year.
Shortly before Sukkot, we arrived in Israel to join my son, his wife, and my beautiful, brilliant eight-year-old granddaughter in celebrating the festival in the mountains of the Galilee. It was absolutely wonderful.
On the anniversary of October 7, 2023, a large memorial ceremony was held in Yarkon Park in Tel Aviv. About 30,000 people attended, mostly bereaved and hostage families. The event, which was nonpolitical, was broadcast live across Israel and throughout the world.
As I watched the ceremony for over two hours, I was overcome by a profound range of emotions. The music, mostly somber and reflective, was deeply moving, as were the testimonies of those whose loved ones were still being held hostage in Gaza. I remember feeling a heavy sense of hopelessness. It felt as though I were attending a shiva, the seven-day period of mourning that follows a Jewish burial.
Two days later, that sadness and sense of paralysis gave way to hope when President Trump announced his 20-point plan for peace. Maybe, just maybe, the hostages would finally come home after two years, and those still waiting to bury their murdered loved ones would be able to do so.
The Saturday night before the scheduled release of the hostages, there was a massive gathering at Hostage Square, the focal point of the hostage families’ campaign to keep public attention on their cause. Steve Witkoff, Jared Kushner, and Ivanka Trump spoke. About 400,000 people attended, including my son and me. We left that demonstration filled with hope.
The next day, I returned to Hostage Square and sat down at a piano. But this was no ordinary piano. On top of it was a sign reading, “You are not alone.” Beside it was a poster with a photo of Alon Ohel, a 22-year-old who had been kidnapped from the Nova Music Festival. The piano had belonged to him and was donated by his parents. Anyone was welcome to play it.
And so, on the day before Alon was to be released, I played his piano. I played Bridge Over Troubled Water, Ani Ve’Atah (“You and I Will Change the World”), and Acheinu Kol Beit Yisrael (“Our Brothers, the Whole House of Israel”). These three songs perfectly captured what I was feeling that day. When I finished, I turned around to find about thirty people standing there, applauding. I am not a great pianist, but I would like to think their applause came from being touched by the same emotions that had filled my heart.
Then, the hostages were released. The stories were incredible! Families reunited, parents embracing their children, husbands and wives finding one another after two long years. Later, of course, came the heartbreaking stories of their captivity.
It was a time of mixed emotions, joy and sorrow, celebration and mourning intertwined.
The next day, President Trump addressed the Knesset. Many have strong opinions about him, especially in the U.S., but that day there was a shared realization that he had achieved something significant, that because of his efforts, our people, our hostages, our loved ones were coming home after two years of unimaginable suffering. I had never witnessed such collective happiness in a single day! Yet beneath it all, there was still sadness for the many bodies that remained in Gaza.
The following day was Simchat Torah, the festival marking the completion of the annual Torah reading cycle. On this day, we read the end of Deuteronomy and immediately begin Genesis again, a reminder that Torah study never ends; it simply begins anew.
Tragically, according to the Hebrew calendar, Simchat Torah is also the yahrzeit, the Memorial Day, for the more than 1,200 people murdered on October 7, 2023. Yet, it remained a day of joy and resilience. We danced and sang with the Torah. I was privileged to carry the Torah at Congregation Kol HaNeshama in Jerusalem. It was wonderful!
When we read Bereshit, the beginning of Genesis, I reflected on the intertwining of joy and sorrow over those recent days. It occurred to me that perhaps this is our own Bereshit, our moment of new beginnings, an opportunity to start again, with strength, conviction, and the hope of building a more peaceful future for all who live in the Middle East, especially in Israel and Palestine!
As my saintly grandmother used to say: “From your mouth to God’s ear.”