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The Jerusalem Post

Let’s speak about hope; it doesn’t diminish the pain - comment

 
 PEOPLE SIGN The Covenant of Unity and Hope, in Latrun, on Independence Day in May.  (photo credit: Jonathan Shaul/Flash90)
PEOPLE SIGN The Covenant of Unity and Hope, in Latrun, on Independence Day in May.
(photo credit: Jonathan Shaul/Flash90)

We have always known struggle. But that struggle has never been in vain.

It has been a year since October 7.

That feels unthinkable. It feels as though it happened only yesterday, yet it also feels as if a century has passed. There is now a clear division in our collective consciousness – before October 7 and after. Our world has changed forever.

Countless articles have been written about that day, and many more will be written today, the anniversary. There is so much to say. Too much. No single piece of writing can fully capture what we have felt, thought, and endured over the past year.

But today, I want to speak about hope. This is not to diminish the pain, the trauma, or the 101 hostages still imprisoned in Gaza by Hamas and their Palestinian civilian and UNRWA collaborators. Not to forget the 1,200 brutally murdered on October 7. And certainly not to overlook the heroes of the IDF who have given their lives defending our land and our state. We must honor and remember every one of them. Their memories weigh heavily on our hearts.

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As Jews, tragedy is no stranger to us. We are the most continuously persecuted minority in human history. Our communities in the Diaspora have long suffered – and still suffer – from relentless antisemitism. Even after the rebirth of our state on our indigenous land, Israel has been forced to fight for its survival. But that is the point: Israel still fights for its survival, and Jewish communities worldwide continue to fight for the right to live openly and freely as Jews.

 Anat Meir mourn near her husband grave Sayeret Matkal soldier David Meir, who was killed by Hamas terrorists on October 7 at the battle on Kibbutz Be'eri, at Mount Herzl Military Cemetery in Jerusalem on July 9, 2024.  (credit: CHAIM GOLDBEG/FLASH90)
Anat Meir mourn near her husband grave Sayeret Matkal soldier David Meir, who was killed by Hamas terrorists on October 7 at the battle on Kibbutz Be'eri, at Mount Herzl Military Cemetery in Jerusalem on July 9, 2024. (credit: CHAIM GOLDBEG/FLASH90)

Fighting for the right to live

We have always known struggle. But that struggle has never been in vain. Every battle we face – whether physical, spiritual, or existential – stems from our unshakable belief that we have a right to live as Jews, with dignity and pride. And it is this pride that sustains us.

We are proud to be Jewish. We know, deeply and powerfully, that we have worth. We belong to something ancient, something greater than ourselves – the Jewish people. This profound sense of peoplehood, of belonging, has been our lifeline, especially in the aftermath of October 7. We stood united. We found solace in one another. We mourned together. Despite the hostility and the deafening silence of the world around us, we knew we belonged – to the Jewish people, to Israel.

This sense of belonging should not be underestimated. Other communities, such as the LGBTQ+ community, search for belonging, for a sense of identity and place. As Jews, we are born into it. We inherit the traditions, values, and stories of our ancestors. That inheritance is not a burden; it is a gift. It binds us to generations past, and it binds us to one another in the present. Wherever we are in the world, we are Am echad, lev echad – one people, one heart.


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And this is what we are fighting for today. This is what we have been fighting for since October 7. We are fighting for the right to live freely as Jews. That is what we have always fought for. We know our worth. We understand the strength of our civilization.

We are the descendants of the Maccabees, of Bar Kochba’s rebels, of the Warsaw Ghetto fighters. We come from generations of Jews who loved and fought fiercely for their Jewishness. We are strong. We are proud. And we are still here, fighting.

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Yet pride does not shield us from pain. If anything, it sharpens it. But pride also binds us together, fortifying our unity. After 9/11, the late Queen Elizabeth II said, “Grief is the price we pay for love,” and this is especially true for the Jewish people after October 7. Our hearts are broken because we love. We love one another. We love the Jewish people. We love our land, our history, our culture, and our shared destiny.

And though we must process our grief and trauma, though we must adapt to this new reality, we cannot lose sight of what drives us forward: our unwavering commitment to the Jewish people. Our hope that we will be able to live freely as Jews. Our hope that we can build a future for ourselves, for our children, and for Jews across the world.

We hope for the end of this war. We hope to rebuild our lives. We hope to rebuild our people. And in that hope, we find the strength to carry on.

Am Yisrael Chai.

The writer is the founder of the modern Jewish Pride movement, an educator, and the author of Jewish Pride: Rebuilding a People and Reclaiming Our Story: The Pursuit of Jewish Pride. His new book, The Jews: An Indigenous People, will be released in February.

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