In 5785, may we be worthy of them

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On September 1, dressed in matching light pink outfits, Orah and Libby Glam did what many 2-year-old Israelis did: they went to their first day of gan. But what was unusual for the twins was who accompanied them: their father’s army unit. Their father, Yohay Hay Glam (ז״ל), had been killed in Gaza four days prior.

There have been many moments since October 7 that have brought home the horrific price of this war. Few, however, have been as brutal as those that confront us with the Israeli children who are too young to understand what they’ve lost.

Giving into despair in these moments can be tempting, but as we make our way through the Yamim Noraim, it’s worth reflecting on a phrase that is often used in Israel when discussing those we lost on and since October 7: “May we be worthy of them.” For an Israeli society that had been tearing itself apart for the nine months prior to the Simchat Torah massacre, these are far from empty words. Rather, they speak volumes about the direction Israelis believe they need to go in, and can serve as inspiration for us in the year 5785. 

This call to action can be understood on both a practical and emotional level.

On a practical level, Jewish history teaches us that internal strife brings disaster upon the Jewish people. We were punished for it 2,000 years ago, and have been living in exile ever since. Today, it is perhaps more evident than ever that national unity is a non-negotiable ingredient for the Jewish state’s survival in the Middle East. This has been reflected in Israeli discourse since the war began, with much discussion devoted to the need to abandon the divisive October 6 mindset, and move on to the mindset of October 8, in which Israelis work together to find common ground despite their political and religious differences.

As Yoav Heller, chairman of The Fourth Quarter, ​​explains, “the social fabric is collapsing. If it keeps on collapsing our children will die.” Heller isn’t exaggerating — Israel’s very survival is at stake.

This need to survive is also linked to a deeply emotional sense of what many Israelis feel they owe those who’ve died in this war. The atrocities of October 7 didn’t simply remind Israelis — in the most horrific way possible — of the fragility of their existence, but it also imbued them with a strengthened desire to repair Israeli society. After all, if G-d Forbid, on the day after the war, Israel returns to the poisonous division of October 6 and its gradual slide toward civil war, then what did everyone die for?

Of course, as Jews living in the Diaspora, we have a far lesser influence on Israeli society than those in Tel Aviv and Jerusalem. And while October 7’s reminder of the importance of Israeli social cohesion may not be as pertinent to our lives, we too have much to learn from this demand to “be worthy.”

The question must be asked as to what the unspeakable sacrifices that Israelis continue to make demand of world Jewry. What, if anything, do we owe those who have died in this war? What do we owe their families and friends? And can any response all the way from New York, Buenos Aires, or London even be adequate?

Of course, there’s the instinctive answers: give tzedakah, pray for the soldiers and hostages, and advocate for Israel — whether on social media, at university, in the workplace, or elsewhere.

But is that enough? I believe not. Can we do more? I believe we can.

This war and the horrific sacrifices accompanying it do not simply require us to tangibly support Israel, but to simultaneously ask how we can be better Jews. If we believe that Israel enables us to live as proud Jews in the Diaspora, then it behoves us to do just that. But not just to be proud Jews — to be the best Jews we can be. If Am Yisrael is worth dying for, then it sure is worth living for too — and to the fullest extent.

What that means for each and every one of us may differ. Whether it’s learning Shmiras Halashon, volunteering more in the Jewish community, praying three times a day, or being a more respectful and loving sibling, child, parent, or spouse — G-d knows we all have what to work on. We just have to take that step.

We can’t reunite Orah and Libby Glam with their father. But what we can do is make active choices in the coming year to turn ourselves into the best possible members of Am Yisrael that we can be. Yohay Hay Glam, and so many others, gave their lives for it. The least we can do is ensure we live our lives as part of Am Yisrael to the fullest.

May we all be blessed with a year ahead full of happiness, health, and success, and may we find ourselves by this time next year in a rebuilt Jerusalem.