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Rachel Sharansky Danziger

Waiting for the deal, I ask: What is my job in this moment?

The outcome of this war and our national future are not predetermined – the way we act right now has the power to affect them
Image by Gerd Altmann from Pixabay

On this complex and emotional day, assaulted by both joy and fear, I find myself thinking of a familiar moment. A moment that every woman who experienced a successful birth knows well: the moment when the baby is finally in your arms. The moment when you feel like you have crossed the finish line. The moment when you think that now, after months of sleepless nights and morning sickness and fatigue and appointments and complications and worries, after the birthing classes and the birthing books and the contractions, after the hours of pain and stress and pushing (or in my case, surgery), now you can finally relax…

…Only to look at the newborn baby lying in your exhausted arms and realize that the work is far from over and that what you’ve crossed was not the finish line, but rather the ending of the very first chapter in a much longer story, the very first part of a (God willing!) long, meandering path.

This feeling? This sudden awareness of the enormity of the challenges that still lie ahead? That’s exactly what I’m feeling in this moment, as our government is about to seal the deal that will change our world once more.

Maybe one day, when we look back, we will be able to say that this deal played a part in ending the war. But for now, it’s not an end but rather a beginning. It’s the first step in what is sure to be a time of joy and relief, but also of tremendous sorrow.  A time of fear and worry. A time of highs and lows that will require nerves of steel and gentle hands.

I do not have a family member in a tunnel in Gaza. I did not lose a family member to a terror attack carried out by the men we are about to release back into the world where they can do more harm. I can’t even begin to imagine what those who do or did are feeling in this moment. But I know that all around me, people like myself are beset by many contradictory emotions, from hope and joy to rage and fear.

In particular, today, though relieved to know that at least some of the hostages will be reunited with their families, many of us are afraid. We are afraid of the devastation of finding out which hostages have died. We are afraid of the bloody costs of releasing thousands of terrorists and enabling them to cause more death and injury. We are afraid of paving the way to the next October 7th by allowing Hamas to regain power in Gaza and raise another generation to hate and kill us, bolstered by the manufactured myth of a glorious victory. And our fears are more than valid. They are reasonable and just.

But it is because I am afraid, because I am awash with too many confusing emotions, that I remind myself today of one fundamental truth: valid though these worries are, the deal won’t be the only factor to shape our future. Even those of us who have no power to affect the government’s decision one way or another have the power to affect the future, too. Yes, the deal sets us on a certain path, rife with danger, But it does not have the power to commandeer us in service of some predetermined destiny. The outcome of this war and our national future, are, as of yet, unwritten, and the deal can’t dictate them fully. The way we act now, in this moment, has the power to affect them, too.

The first step in this work, and indeed — the only step that’s fully in most of our hands right now, is to decide who we want to be now, in this moment. What kind of people? What kind of friends and neighbors? What kind of political rivals?

What language will we choose to use when we speak to one another?

What kind of relationships will we choose to foster, with those around us, and with those whom we view across the chasm of political divides?

Who we, individually, choose to be right now will determine who we will be as a society when we will face the challenges of the coming days, weeks, months, and more. And I believe that if we have the wisdom and patience to stand together, as a compassionate and interconnected society, we will be able to weather a great deal.

And so, today, in this historic moment between the pangs of birth and new life, between the war as we have experienced it so far and the challenging future still before us, I choose to set aside questions like “is this a good or terrible deal” and “what will happen in the future.” Yes, these questions are important. Yes, it’s very very hard to set them all aside. But the answers to these questions are not mine to determine. I choose to focus instead on the question that is mine to answer: how can I, in this moment, be the version of myself that will best strengthen our society? How can I be the version that will nourish our bonds and contribute to a more resilient Israel, one better able to weather what’s ahead?

As Rabbi Tarfon taught millennia ago, “It is not your responsibility to finish the work, but neither are you free to desist from it.” The work of shaping our future is enormous, daunting, and depends on many factors and many, many hands. I choose to focus on the small part that is within my hands to shape and master, and make the commitments that are mine to make:

Even though I cannot control the storms before us, I will do my best to judge every person in Israel in the scale of merit as we struggle through them. I will make room in myself to learn from their perspective. I will keep my heart open to the people around me, and I will be there for my people in both heart and deed.

About the Author
Rachel is a Jerusalem-born writer and educator who's in love with her city's vibrant human scene. She writes about Judaism, history, and life in Israel for the Times of Israel and other online venues, and explores storytelling in the Hebrew bible as a teacher in Matan, Maayan, Torah in Motion, and Pardes.
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