This Long Day of 512

Throughout this long day of 512 days to date since October 7, when friends have celebrations and birthdays, I congratulate them with a traditional “mazal tov,” and struggle deciding for whom, when, and why it is appropriate to say “happy” – happy birthday. I found a balance I use for friends and family sharing my reality. My congratulations that come with reminders to celebrate when you have the occasion, in your own happy place, with those with whom you choose to share your happy moments, even when sadness, fear, and seeming despair fill the public space. In your happy moment and place, hope can recharge, or so it works for me.

Celebrating a second birthday today on this long day of 512 was enjoyed with family. I am deeply grateful for that privilege.

During these 512 days, as a society, we faced and processed the magnitude of the attack Hamas launched upon Israel and the absence of the army where it was needed the morning it all began. Processed. Still processing. Strategy. Policy. Hundreds of hostages taken to Gaza. Deferred opportunities to ensure their safe return. Deferred ceasefires in the name of aggressive military achievements. Deals, stages, pulses, hostages returning home, hostages surviving another day in captivity. Our lives advance on parallel tracks occasionally colliding with day one track. Those of us with families at home, intact, wondering how hostages’ families survive incessant uncertainty and the anguish of how it happened and how it continues. And why? Worrying about soldiers at war in our families and our friends’ families. Worrying about Israel’s actions. Worried about ever present threats to Israel and its citizens.

Week by week since late January, colliding tracks merged into one again. Pervasive sadness, helplessness, concern claimed Israel’s public space. In the days and weeks following October 7, concern and empathy from abroad deluged our shores. Friends and loved ones followed developments from the distance, yet, their lives, naturally, are filled with issues in their countries, and personal matters from birthdays to illnesses. Media abroad is not consumed by returning hostages, tortured, and the funerals following the return of bodies held hostage. If it warrants a news item, it prods occasional expressions of shared pain from friends or loved ones who write or call. But mostly, these past few weeks, I feel isolated, only sharing a sensation with Israelis around me, without talking about it. With nothing to say, though, still, we talk about it. And we don’t.  We are immersed in it.

As Israelis, in Israel, Jews don’t confront anti-Semitism friends and family face abroad.  I’m convinced that is the more difficult plight. How would I respond? How would I defend Israel? Though I criticize Israel harshly, it is defensible, if critically, and entitled to critics relinquishing superficiality and addressing complexity.

Another sleepless followed the brave television interview of Eli Sharabi, released from Gaza just a few weeks ago. Candid reports of the connection between torture and reports heard by his captors of an Israeli government minister broadcasting harsh treatment of Palestinian prisoners. The treatment after a captor heard his family home was destroyed by the Israeli Air Force. His support for a younger hostage left behind, and his promise to fight for his release. Chewing each crumb of his quarter pita ration curbed starvation before sleep. Upon reaching Israeli hands, he understood his wife and two daughters were murdered on October 7, when the social worker said his sister and mother awaited him at the initial point of interaction with families.

This evening, watching the Hamas directed video clip of two brothers separated last week – one released to Israel, one still hostage, begging for this to come to an end. Psychological warfare with an endless ripple effect.

Earlier in the week, skeptically mentioning demonstrating, one friend put me in my place, reminding me, as long as it has taken, the recent release of hostages is directly related to the demonstrations.

Celebrated my birthday with a family meal. My silent wish: to go to Hostage Square in Tel Aviv, this week, even if not as powerful as Saturday night demonstrations.

At Hostage Square we can demand bringing the remaining 59 hostages home now, 24 living and 35 who are not. When the public space fills with sadness, I want to go to Hostage Square to scream for their release. I want to go to Hostage Square, because I can. Because of freedom of expression. Because there will be a multigenerational crowd committed to the values that were meant to be an integral part of Israel’s infrastructure. Because at Hostage Square, people demand Israel measure up to its core values and their potential. Because at Hostage Square, there are people who give me hope that things can get better and that our society can and will make that happen.

Harriet Gimpel, March 1, 2025