Time in Suspension

We are in a time, as they say in Hebrew, “between two suns” (bein hashmashot), when it is not yet night but it is no longer day. Although such a thing does not exist literally, it exists as a metaphor: time is suspended. This Chol HaMoed of Sukkot has amplified the sense of fragility and vulnerability that the holiday evokes.

So much so that what should have been (and for many was) an unrestrained expression of joy and jubilation (in advance to the hostages actually being brought back) turned into a muffled, measured, cautious optimism. As if, after two agonizing years, we could not assess the plausibility of events. Something might still derail the agreement, but the signs this time are too strong to be ignored.

No one gets used to living in martyrdom, but without a doubt these two years have struck us.

First, for the hostages, of whom we hope the last twenty alive and the remains of another twenty-eight will arrive by Simchat Torah (yes, the same day as #Oct7 — nothing happens by chance). Second, for the hostages’ families. Third, for the families of those murdered on #Oct7, those who died in captivity, and the soldiers fallen in action. Fourth, for Israelis; at least the majority with whom I identify. And finally for us, the Zionist and engaged Jews of the diaspora.

If some are already accusing the instigators of hatred in the press and on social media of running out of material to fuel their discourse, I wonder to what extent many of us will adapt to this new situation of cessation of hostilities. Because it will be time to talk about the reconstruction of Gaza, true; I’ll leave that to Trump and his partners. But it will also be time to talk about the Israel that emerges on the other side of the tunnel, about the Jewish people affected by unbridled antisemitism: in short, about the trauma.

It will be time to reshuffle and start again. Time for investigations. Time for reconstruction. Time to take up issues again, some of which proved fatal. Time to imagine our future: as a nation-state and as a people. Now we know who is who: from the fanatic Ben-Gvir to the last Jew whose self-hatred is more harmful than any ordinary antisemite. As they said in my community, NCI of Montevideo, during Yom Kippur: it is time to revisit the pacts.

Meanwhile, I enjoy the suspended time, the tingle of expectation, the opportunity to anticipate joy.

I am not naïve: I know that “phase 1” could be the only phase, and I know it depends more on us than on the enemy. But just as Hamas is defeated, after the failure in Qatar the Israeli government is in check. The agreement came now but not because of the imminence of the Nobel…

For all these reasons, neither today, nor tomorrow, nor the day after, do I want to hear skepticism, doubt, and fatalism. We’ve had enough of that already. For a whole generation, if not two. Or more. I was never very keen on dancing with the Torah scrolls; I never really believed the slogan “we will dance again”; but this year I look forward with anticipation to the Simchat Torah ritual that draws so many.

I also know that Jewish time, being cyclical, and progresses toward an era some call messianic. For me, it is by no means a simple dynamic — it is a constant process of improvement. Zionism is young. Israel is young. Antisemitism is old. There is still much to perfect. First, let us see the hostages return home. B’H.

Let us not say Amen; let us say Am Israel Chai. May it live on.

This is my own translation of my editorial entry in my blog in Spanish www.tumeser.com