The Train Movement
The night before the last Knesset dissolved, I wrote to someone who over time became my anchor in the political world about how strange it felt that “tomorrow it is all over.” True to his calm nature, where still waters run deep, and as a man of very few words, he answered with just two: “Just beginning.”
And here we are, a few months later, in the space between election night and the swearing-in of the 26th Knesset. We stand moments before the establishment of committees, the redistribution of ministerial portfolios, and the formation of a government.
The political system is turbulent and the headlines are deafening, but at this exact moment, my mind travels back to that evening of dissolution. It was during the peak of the legislative blitz around draft evasion laws, alongside days filled with protests against the arrest of draft evaders, on that train ride from Jerusalem back home.
I return to that conversation on the train with a female soldier sitting opposite me. She was a young woman sitting in her combat boots, looking back at me with curiosity and a warm smile. She told me she was finally heading home after three consecutive weeks on base. She was a combat soldier in the Kfir Brigade, and with shining eyes she opened up and spoke about her American mother who made Aliyah, and about her partner who serves in a combat unit. At that very moment, he was waiting for her at the station after a month apart. She shared his anxiety over service extensions caused by personnel shortages, a reality threatening his university enrollment.
That evening connects to memories of another night on that same train from Jerusalem, when tears welled in my eyes as I watched an elderly couple stop every single uniform-clad soldier walking down the carriage just to say three simple words: “Thank you so much.”
These were quiet personal victories within myself that reminded me precisely whom and what I was fighting for, the very people for whom I will never stop fighting.
I often find myself returning to that beloved metaphor of the train, which is essentially the story of our lives. Life here is one long journey. Each person boards at a specific station and sets out alongside particular people, some of whom joined us from the start, while others are complete strangers. In an instant, we find ourselves sitting beside new people who energetically fill the surrounding seats. Along the way, some of them disembark. Those who began the journey with you are not necessarily the ones who will finish it with you. Sometimes the goodbyes at intermediate stops are heartbreaking, and sometimes the arrival of a new passenger brings profound comfort. Yet every single person who entered our carriage played an exact role in our journey, even if they ultimately chose to step off at a different station while you continued toward the destination, often into the unknown. In the end, you will arrive. It will happen, and others will finish the journey beside you. None of this path was in vain, because you finally reached the destination, even if it looks slightly different from what you once imagined.
Now, each and every one of us holds an immensely vital role.
As we stand before the opening session of this new Knesset, the State of Israel must return to its point of origin. We need a complete reset.
The journey we are embarking on today is one of national reconstruction, and the cardinal rule of this train is uncompromising: we must all ride it together, even if the composition of the carriage is not always to our liking.
A country cannot be run through the blanket delegitimization of entire sectors. The fracture runs too deep, and the price we pay is too heavy to leave whole communities behind on the platform. No, not all Haredim are draft evaders, and not all Arabs are terrorists. This sweeping, paralyzing discourse in a country founded on democratic values and equality, without distinction of religion, race, or gender, must come to an end.
The time has come to stop hunting people down over a careless remark or an isolated quote on social media, turning every disagreement into a trigger for destruction. We must look up from petty fights and ask one mature, responsible question: How do we work together to build a better future? How do we repair what was broken, as quickly as possible?
Our next journey will not be simple, and it will not be comfortable. It will demand that we sit alongside people whose worldviews diverge entirely from our own, but there is no other carriage, and there will be no other train. We will all ride this same train, look ahead, and move forward so that the State of Israel can finally begin its journey of healing.
Nothing ended the moment the election tallies were finalized. Right now, everything begins. The expedition to restore sanity, repair our social fabric, and achieve genuine healing is underway, and this time, none of us can afford to let this train derail.
