Truth, Heroes, and a Seemingly Never-Ending War

Living in a country at war for 19 months feels like running a grueling marathon where every day in the wee hours of the morning, a tiny, malevolent gremlin emerges crouched from under a rock to surreptitiously extend the finish line. For our soldiers, that means maintaining the physical and mental stamina, courage and discipline for such an unprecedented length of time. For the parents of soldiers and מילואים (army reserve) families, it’s surviving this reality that seems to stretch on forever, with the responsibilities, fear, sleeplessness, and anxiety inevitably accompanying it. For the hostage families, they seem to persevere in a suspended unfathomable nightmare — with infinitely more equanimity than one would think humanly possible. And the bereaved families in varying (time) stages of grieving I imagine have a difficult time finding pockets of comfort or closure facing the still-gaping wound of war and looming question marks where a decisive victory should be.

If plotted on a graph, the pattern of emotional paroxysms we’ve experienced would look something like the US stock market during an unusual and extended period of high volatility: bursts of sadness, rage, indignation, pride, more sadness, love, unity, hate, disbelief, courage, hope, despair, crushed hope, depression, faith, love, etc.

As a writer, the revolving door aspect of this war’s trajectory, the seemingly eternal intractability of our enemies and their genocidal goals, and the very familiar (though still shocking) re-emergence of mainstream global antisemitism in the timeline of history of our people, makes it hard to draw new inspiration and deliver a message I haven’t already touched upon since Oct 7, 2023.

I am strangely reminded of the words that exited my mouth 14 years ago — seemingly bypassing my intellect, coming instead from the deepest part of my bowels – as I contemplated taking a step I had already been mulling over for a year. When I finally took the step, it led directly to the demise of my marriage. My therapist at the time often reminded me that the defining moment I decided to take action followed me exclaiming: “I need the truth like I need air to breathe.”  I hadn’t really thought about those words much since then, that is, until recently when I am once again feeling the same powerful urge to define truth in a daring way.

There is in fact one consistent truth that re-emerges on an almost daily basis which both sends me into awe, disbelief and reverence and at the same time makes me increasingly uncomfortable. Perhaps the truth isn’t meant to be easy. I am referring to the existence here in Israel of an abnormally high number of everyday formidable heroes, those unwilling leaders & spiritual giants, as a percentage of the population. Seasoned heroes from the pre-Oct 7 era are woven in with the newly emerging heroes, a continuous emission of such a high level of light and love that it often overwhelms me. I think about our heroes every morning during my Shacharit (תפילות) prayers:

מה אנחנו                                                What is our significance?

מה חיינו                                                  What is the significance of our lives?

מה חסדינו                                               What is the significance of our acts of kindness?

מה צדקותינו                                            What is the significance of our acts of charity?

מה ישועתנו                                             What can a person do to save himself?

מה כוהנו מה גבורתנו                                What is our strength? What is our might to fight others?

מה נאמר לפנך הי אלוהינו ואלוהי אבותינו     What can we say before You, Lord our G-d and G-d of our ancestors?

I could easily fill an A-Z encyclopedia of examples of who these heroes are, but will highlight just a few here:

Emily Damari, 28 years old, lived in Kibbutz Kfar Aza. On Oct 7, 2023, Hamas terrorists burst into her home, shot her dog, and then shot Emily in the hand as she tried to comfort her dying pet. She was kidnapped to Gaza and survived 15 months of brutal captivity.  In mid-January 2025, when her captors told her that her release was imminent, she asked for a favor:  that they free her fellow hostage, Keith Siegel – who was in poor health – in her stead. They rejected her request.

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Last week, Tzeela Gez, a pregnant 38-year-old mother of 3 boys and a therapist specializing in trauma, was driving with her husband to the hospital to give birth to their 4^th child when they were gunned down by terrorists in their car. Tzeela died after an emergency C-Section to deliver the baby boy in critical (now Baruch Hashem stable) condition, and her husband, Hananel, was mildly injured. The next day, even before the funeral, Hananel had the presence of mind to write the following message on social media, intended to comfort and lend (חיזוק) strength to friends and fellow Jews:

“Hello friends, today is a sad day. Last night, my wife was murdered. We were on our way to the hospital to joyfully have our fourth child. . . Of course I’m broken, it’s natural, but I also thank G-d that I stayed alive and I will stay strong to continue being a light to the world. We will never let them break us. . . . I am very, very sad, but I continue fighting for the good of our people. I love you all. We will survive, we will succeed, and we will prosper. G-d is one.”

Hamas lauded Tzeela’s murder as “historic”.

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Sherri and Seth Mandell, whose brilliant 13-year-old son, Koby, was stoned to death by Arab terrorists in 2001 almost immediately turned their grief into action by creating the Koby Mandell Foundation. The organization helps families who have lost loved ones to terror, war or tragedy, including running camps for thousands of children over the years. They have been inundated since Oct 7, running programs and services for the newly bereaved. I had the honor of getting to know Sherri and Seth in March when I volunteered at a widow’s retreat at the Dead Sea for 55 women who had lost spouses on or after Oct 7, and to see up close how much good this organization does. Most notably, they create communities and a stalwart support network, 2 vital ingredients for surviving and thriving after tragedy. Had I walked into the hotel ballroom not knowing who these women were, I would have thought it was some post army weekend reunion. So many of them were very young (!), now raising their children alone. Without the work and tireless inspiration of the Mandell family (their daughter Eliana Braner now runs the Foundation), the isolation these widows would be facing would be unbearable.

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Eli Sharabi was abducted from his home in Kibbuz Be’eri on Oct 7, 2023, and spent 16 months in captivity enduring starvation, shackles and relentless beatings at the hands of Hamas terrorists. Not till he was freed and back in Israel, a skeleton of the man he once was but buoyed by the dream of embracing his family again, did he find out that his wife Lianne and their two daughters, Yahel, 13, and Noya, 16, were actually murdered on Oct 7. His entire immediate family had been decimated and his brother Yossi, who had also been abducted, had earlier been declared dead in captivity.  Despite all, since the moment he came home, Eli has devoted all his time and energy to the release of the remaining hostages, traveling all over the world to deliver his message. The strength he exudes in interviews is mind-boggling. He has also revealed that he wants to marry again and build anew.

Perhaps ill-advised while I’m struggling to make sense of the Israeli heroes all around me, I am currently reading Yael Shahar’s haunting memoir-style book about the (true) life of a Sonderkommando originally from Greece, who was deported to Auschwitz-Birkenau at 17 with his family (who were all killed immediately) and has never since — even 65 years later — lived a day free of guilt or emotional and mental torment. I’ve read a lot of Holocaust history books and memoirs in my life, but none from this very unique and tortured perspective. And, it is playing with my mind, making it difficult to sleep at night and prompting very vivid dreams. It is also upping the ante in a very real way on the questions already plaguing me: Could I have lived through being kidnapped to Gaza on Oct 7? Unlikely. Could I have survived months or a year and a half in captivity under constant fear and threat, without basic hygiene or food? No! Surely, humans can die of fear and anxiety alone, can’t they? If I had survived in captivity for 15 months and been presented with a ticket to freedom, would I offer my ticket to a fellow captive instead? Unlikely. Ultimately, if I had been at Auschwitz, would I have sold my soul for the chance to survive? I don’t think so, but I can’t know for sure.

Nevertheless, several things do surface clearly for me:

• Our enemies today use the blueprint from Nazism, and I mean that literally, evidenced by the fact that the IDF found copies of Mein Kampf in far too many civilian homes across Gaza. It’s not just the zealous thirst for Jewish blood and annihilation, but also the blinding, irrational hatred, and the use of deliberate starvation, humiliation and dehumanization.
• To be a hero when faced with death, intense fear, personal tragedy and loss is not a given. It is a choice and not an easy one, which make our Israeli heroes – ordinary individuals who rise to not just meet extraordinary circumstances, but to defy them with humanity and kindness – deserving of even greater respect.

I admit openly that I’ve gone into despair many times since Oct 7 and pulled myself out by observing Israelis around me who so tenaciously guard against negativity and hopelessness. I have clung to faith and prayer and Trump (as the precursor to Mashiach), strengthened myself spiritually, felt close to Hashem, thought I had some things figured out, only to fall into despair and doubt all over again. I see Israelis in different settings since Oct 7 sing (loudly) and dance to the song תמיד אוהב אותי, that has a somewhat crazed upbeat melody with a lot of brass and the following words:

השם יתברך תמיד אוהב אותי ותמיד יהיה לי רק טוב

May G-d Almighty always love me and always have only good things for me.

It makes me uncomfortable, even angry sometimes. “Don’t you see?”, I want to yell, “Things are not good, not good at all!  Why are you singing? Are we safer now than 2 years ago or 15 years ago? Will our children and grandchildren also die in continual cycles of war and terror?” Ultimately, I accept that on some level this disconnect could be part of a broader cultural gap too wide for me to bridge at the present time, maybe forever . . .

I’ll close with a prayer directed upward: Hashem, ahem, please stop making life so challenging for us. Give us a chance to be heroes without the harsh (ניסיונות) tests. Allow us to draw close to you without the pressures of war and untold tragedy. We don’t need to hit rock bottom to acknowledge your presence or reach upward for you. You brought us back from the 4 corners of the world to this tiny piece of land. Grace us with a life here of lasting peace, meaning, greatness, healing, and prosperity!

Isaiah 11:12

“And He shall raise a banner to the nations, and He shall gather the lost of Israel, and the scattered ones of Judah He shall gather from the four corners of the earth.”

יב  וְנָשָֹ֤א נֵס֙ לַגּוֹיִ֔ם וְאָסַ֖ף נִדְחֵ֣י יִשְׂרָאֵ֑ל וּנְפֻצ֚וֹת יְהוּדָה֙ יְקַבֵּ֔ץ מֵֽאַרְבַּ֖ע כַּנְפ֥וֹת הָאָֽרֶץ

Amos 9:15

“And I will plant them on their land, and they shall no longer be uprooted from upon their land, that I have given them, said the Lord your God.”

טו  וּנְטַעְתִּ֖ים עַל־אַדְמָתָ֑ם וְלֹ֨א יִנָּֽתְשׁ֜וּ ע֗וֹד מֵעַ֚ל אַדְמָתָם֙ אֲשֶׁר־נָתַ֣תִּי לָהֶ֔ם אָמַ֖ר יְהֹוָ֥ה אֱלֹהֶֽיךָ

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For more information or to donate: KobyMandellFoundation

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