Goodbye 2024. Why I have hope for 2025

Hanukkah, Christmas, New Year’s – all in one week. If there ever was a season of light, celebration and hope, it is now. Okay, you may think I’m crazy, and it’s probably true. You have to be a bit crazy to stay in Israel these days. But here we are: 9.8 million crazy people living in a place we love, albeit all for different reasons. So, yes, I’m crazy and filled with hope for the coming year, despite the horrible circumstances we’re in right now.

I am not an ostrich with my head in the sand. I am not ignorant of the horrors of war happening now, as I write. I am not unaware of the massive pain, cruelty and injustice all around us. I am not blind to the horrific images of freezing children trying to survive in the shattered ruins in Gaza. I am not deaf to the sirens awakening us at night as enemies fire ballistic missiles at us. I have no valid reason to believe that all of this will end soon. None of know when or how it will end. Yet, I am very sure that it will end, and that somehow, healing will begin.

In Israel we say, “yehiyeh beseder” – it will be okay. And often the retort is a cynical, “matei?” – when?  Well, we have no idea when, and yet we persist in our hope.

2024: such a terrible year. I am not sad to see you go. Goodbye 2024: we won’t miss the bleak reality of the ongoing strife, the killing, the suffering, and the criminal mismanagement of the Zionist enterprise on the part of egocentric politicians. No one will be sorry that this horrid year is over.

I spent most of 2024 volunteering at Hostages Square in Tel Aviv. I am still there and I’ll stay until all of the 100 hostages come home- the living to begin to heal and rebuild their lives, the dead brought home for burial. Day after day, I meet groups of people and tell them the stories of the hostages. As I speak, I do my best to breathe life into the faces on the posters, to show the real person behind the static photo. Each hostage has a story. Each hostage has a life and loved ones waiting at home. Each hostage deserves to be thought about, spoken about, and prayed for. This is my mission at Hostage Square. And I am just one of thousands of volunteers who share this mission.

And now we come to one of the reasons that I have hope: Volunteer spirit, community, shared purpose and shared dreams. As a professional in the technology industry for over 40 years I met a lot of people. I worked with teams here in Israel and around the world. I thought I knew so many people. But in 2024, I got to know people I had never dreamt of getting close to. At Hostages Square my world expanded and suddenly I had new friends: Orthodox, secular, right-wing, left-wing, kibbutzniks, and people who live in settlements. No, I never dreamed that these people, so different from me, would become part of my life. And yet, here we are, diverse yet united. Yes, we differ on many levels. But we share a single purpose: to bring the hostages home. I thought I was lucky to have had a community and loving family before October 7, 2023. Now my family, my community, has grown exponentially, and I am that much richer for it.

Israel’s Ashkenazi Chief Rabbi Kalman Ber lights Hannukah candles with hostage family members in Tel Aviv. Photo: Nili Bresler

And beyond Hostages Square, Israel is packed with people volunteering, hosting evacuees, cooking and packing food, picking crops, and learning the construction trade as they work to rebuild the homes destroyed on October 7^th. All around me, I see people reaching out, doing whatever they can to help rather than sitting home to stew about our woes. And outside of Israel, people all over the world have reached out to help. Many come to volunteer in Israel. Many take action to raise awareness in their own communities abroad. When they come to visit, I meet them at Hostages Square. Israel’s extended family stretches across the globe. Yet another reason to be thankful and hopeful.

I know that this activism, this volunteering spirit is one of the main reason we Israelis are able to function, to endure. The more we do, the more active we are, the better we fare. Volunteering, marching, speaking up, speaking out: Whatever we do strengthens us and bonds us together. This week, as I light the Hanukkah candles with loved ones, I am grateful for the blessings of friends, family, and purpose which light my life.

Last month, I was lucky enough to be able to visit my family in the USA. It was cold and snowy in Maine. For the record, it’s official: I am not a winter person. I was delighted to come home to what we in Israel call a cold winter: just below 50° F / 10° C.  But I am incredibly thankful for my family and especially my mom and aunt, 98 and 99 respectively, who are both ‘forces of nature’, to quote my friend, John.

My mom and I had a lot of quality visiting time together, conversing about everything from issues to tissues. Mom, who is still sharp and attuned to current events, asked me lots of hard questions about the situation here. She asked about the possibility of a civil war in Israel. I answered that truthfully, I do not believe Israelis would or could take up arms against each other. Of course, I remember Rabin’s assassination, carried out by the most extreme of extremists. And I feel the anger and hostility aimed at me when I am out protesting, marching with my ‘Stop the War’ sign. But from animosity to violence is a huge leap. I do not believe that it will come to that. Let’s hope not. Let’s hope that our fragile democracy will hold, allowing self-expression and dissent. Hope, after all, is what keeps me going. I do believe that we Israelis: Jews, Arabs, Christians, right, left, center, will find a way to keep on living together.

The best explanation I have for my hopeful state of mind was given recently by the guys at Unpacked.  Here’s their take on why Israel remains in the top ten happiest countries in the world, even after October 7^th. Judicial upheaval, threats to our democracy, a troubled economy, an astronomical cost of living, and this ongoing war. Yet, we Israelis seem to have something inside us that keeps us going, even managing to smile, through it all.  Watch this video to learn more.

A season of light: My little family, my hope for a brighter future. Photo: Nili Bresler