The Blogs: From Darkness to Light

I’m sitting here in the stillness, waiting for the sun to rise over Jerusalem. It’s Yom HaZikaron — the Day of Remembrance.

We often say that Tisha B’Av is the saddest day on the Jewish calendar. But maybe it’s time to rethink that. Yom HaZikaron feels more painful — more immediate, more personal, more raw. The loss isn’t from ancient history — it’s happening now. It touches every one of us.

As an oleh of thirty years, I’ve lived through this day many times. In our community in Raanana, we mourned Ari Weiss and Benji Hillman. The pain in their fathers’ eyes is something I’ll never forget.

And after October 7, it became even heavier. So many more lives lost. So much grief. Friends and neighbours burying their children. The heartbreak of losing young men and women who were full of promise, who gave everything to protect this country.

I’m haunted by their faces.
By the eyes of the parents, the spouses, and the children left behind.
Their grief is permanent. And yet somehow, life keeps moving forward.

Searching for Hope

Last night, as the official ceremony played out at the Kotel, I found myself deeply moved — but still searching. What do we do with all this pain?

Then I saw two events that gave me a sense of clarity and direction:

A moving gathering at Ammunition Hill hosted by the Michael Levine Lone Soldier Centre,

https://www.youtube.com/live/K8Ehyil0eh0

A powerful evening by Masa Israel Journey, where stories of resilience and rebuilding were shared.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-4C134A5Sw4

These moments didn’t erase the pain, but reminded me that strength remains. There is a quiet courage in those left behind — the will to rebuild, to honour their loved ones, to continue their legacy.

The Hard Shift to Yom Ha’atzmaut

It’s not easy to switch from grief to celebration.
To be honest, I feel a bit guilty about posting anything for Yom Ha’atzmaut. It feels strange to move from mourning to barbecues and flags.

But this is what we’re asked to do.

To believe again.
To rise again.
To honour their memory by continuing to live.
To pick up the pieces and recommit — to ourselves, to our people, to our mission.

Even in our brokenness, we say Hallel. With gratitude. With faith. With strength we didn’t know we had.

Yom Ha’atzmaut 2025: No Fireworks, Just Fire

This year, Yom Ha’atzmaut will look different.

There won’t be flyovers.
There won’t be fireworks in the sky.

But you will see flags on balconies.
There will be Hallel in synagogues — maybe quieter, more reflective.
There will be barbecues, not because life is easy, but because life must continue.

We’re not celebrating because we feel safe.
We’re celebrating because we’re still here.

October 7: The Day the Illusion Shattered

On October 7, 2023 — Shabbat and Simchat Torah — Hamas terrorists crossed into Israel.

What followed was the most horrific massacre of Jews since the Holocaust.
Over 1,200 people were murdered. Entire families were burned alive. Children, parents, and Holocaust survivors were taken hostage. More than 250 hostages were dragged into Gaza.

But it didn’t stop there.

Around the world, we saw celebrations. Not mourning — celebrations.
University campuses, media outlets, protests — they called it “resistance.”
They asked us to show “restraint.”

For many of us, it wasn’t just war but betrayal. A global one.

And yet, something else lit up from this horror—something fierce and unshakable.

The Name Game: Rewriting History

At the core of this conflict is one of the biggest propaganda successes in modern history — the rebranding of the word “Palestine.”

Let’s be clear: there has never been an independent Arab nation called Palestine.

The name “Palestina” was imposed by Emperor Hadrian in 136 CE after suppressing the Bar Kokhba revolt. It was a deliberate attempt to erase Judea from memory — to sever the Jewish connection to the land.

Jews, however, remained rooted here. And under the Ottomans and British Mandate, it was the Jews who were known as Palestinians:

The Palestine Post — now The Jerusalem Post
The Palestine Philharmonic — founded by Jews fleeing Europe
The Anglo-Palestine Bank — now Bank Leumi

The local Arab population mostly identified as Arabs or part of greater Syria, not as “Palestinians.” The political adoption of that identity didn’t emerge until the 1960s, heavily influenced by Soviet disinformation strategies like Operation SIG, which aimed to paint Zionism as colonialism.

When people chant “From the river to the sea, Palestine will be free,” they’re not talking about peace.
They’re talking about erasing Israel.

The Global Campaign Against Us

The lie spread quickly.

The United Nations, created after the Holocaust to protect the vulnerable, has passed more resolutions against Israel than against North Korea, Iran, and Syria combined.

Human rights organisations now excuse barbarity if the victims are Jews.

Media outlets parrot Hamas propaganda.

University campuses glorify terror while intimidating Jewish students.

This isn’t about justice. It’s a new form of antisemitism — dressed in human rights language, but echoing the old libels.

Even at Home: The Crisis Within

Some of the most painful cracks come from within our own walls.

At the Israel Museum, in an exhibit titled Promised: The Dream of Zionism, there’s a poster by Israeli artist David Tartakover. It takes Theodor Herzl’s iconic line —
“If you will it, it is no dream” (“Im tirtzu, ein zo agadah”) —
and flips it into a blunt rejection:

“No Dream.”

It’s presented as commentary. But it reflects a growing loss of belief in the Zionist story.

Instead of affirming our presence here, it questions it.
Instead of strengthening identity, it promotes doubt.

When our own institutions push this kind of narrative, it doesn’t inspire honest reflection — it fuels confusion and erasure.

Link: https://www.imj.org.il/en/exhibitions/promised

Still — We Sing Hallel

This year, we sing Hallel differently.
Not out of triumph, but out of survival.

Like our ancestors after the splitting of the sea, we’re still in shock.
We didn’t choose this path — we were thrown into it.
We didn’t march to freedom with clarity — we staggered forward, wounded, but alive.

We had no other option.
We had nowhere else to go.

But we are here. We are home.

A Glimpse of What’s Possible

In all this darkness, there are sparks of light.

One is Abu Gosh — an Arab town outside Jerusalem that chose not to fight the Jewish state in 1948. It chose coexistence over conflict.

Today, it’s a place that showcases what should have been: each community, Jews and Arabs, coexisting, living, and building a free and prosperous Israel. It’s not a utopia, but it’s real. It shows what can happen when people choose truth and respect over propaganda.

A Fire Without Fireworks

This year, there won’t be fireworks in the sky.

But there’s fire in our souls.

A candle for every hostage still in Gaza
A flame for every family rebuilding from ashes
A heartbeat for a people who were nearly wiped out — again — and still believe

Am Yisrael Chai: The Final Word

Despite everything: