The price of war: How can we rediscover Jewish resilience in the face of despair? - opinion

There is no denying that this protracted war is exacting a heavy toll on all of us – primarily, on our collective and individual spirits. At times, it feels as though our leadership has struck a Faustian bargain: boundless power in exchange for the very soul of the nation and its people. Wherever I turn, despair shrouds the room like a somber gray fog. This unfathomable reality hit my personal life last Saturday when a missile struck frighteningly close to my house in Haifa. I was in the shelter with my children, aged six and 10. As the deafening explosion and shockwave reverberated through our lives, they genuinely believed their world was ending and their house was ruined. Truth should be told, I thought so too for a few scary minutes. Since that moment, nothing has looked the same.

I thought about the residents of places like Margaliot, Shlomi, Gesher Haziv, and Kiryat Shmona, etc., living under the shadow of a cruel Russian roulette. Too often, we almost escape disaster. One day, I fear, luck will fail. So, what remains for us? Anger. Anger is the unruly, malevolent offspring of sorrow and fear. And there is no shortage of it here. The truth? This is precisely one of the enemy’s goals. You don’t need a degree in international relations to realize it. In this new reality, both adults and children have become zombies of rage. It’s evident in queues, on the roads (where accident rates are soaring, breaking records and hearts alike), in restaurants, at workplaces, and even among families and friends. Too often, I’ve seen close relationships unravel, with friends and loved ones spiraling into unchecked fury. Is this the society we’ve become?

At the end of the day, in this fractured reality, kindness is the only thing that can save us, kindness toward one another and, just as importantly, toward ourselves – because, not coincidentally, these are intertwined. Make no mistake: There are those who thrive on our discord. Certain leaders, as well as parties on the other side of this war (including some European nations), gleefully rub their hands together whenever a loud, vitriolic dispute erupts in our parliament – especially when it targets those suffering most from this war: northern farmers, reservists who have lost everything, or the families of the hostages. Words fail to capture the shame I feel living in a country where some ministers speak to these people with such cruelty and disdain.

“Resilience” has become a buzzword of our times. Everyone talks about resilience – how it strengthens the state and society; how resilience on the home front enables a prolonged war effort; and how this vaunted resilience sends family members back to the reserves after weeks or months. But where does this resilience come from, and what does it truly look like?

Resilience is kindness. Simple as that: the kinder we are as a people and as a community and eventually as a society – the more resilient we will be.

Kindness is key

Kindness is the key but it’s also a word we’ve reluctantly abandoned, overwhelmed by widespread sorrow and exhaustion. Resilience is letting someone merge ahead of you in traffic, understanding they might be reliving trauma from past alarms and cannot bear the wait at a junction. Resilience is calling elderly neighbors to check in on them. 

It’s showing up with food for a friend who just gave birth and had to rush her newborn to a shelter while her spouse was away. Resilience is holding our loved ones tightly because science has already proven that a hug calms the nervous system and releases oxytocin.

Many argue that this war was born of baseless hatred. Now is the time to acknowledge how hard, painful, and sorrowful it is – but also that the strongest medicine lies in opening tear-stung eyes and seeking out those around us who are drowning in invisible despair. They may appear functional but radiate no joy or vitality. It’s time to identify the “weak links” and strengthen them. Perhaps only then, through the power of the heart, can we reclaim our sense of community and humanity – a society with heart and soul. A society worth fighting this war for.

The author works in the media sector and is a writer and blogger.