Amid war and challenges ahead, it's important to cling to hope - opinion

We are now living in a time of wounds, the delicate and uncertain aftermath of war. Yes, the quiet has returned. Messages about school trips, parent-teacher meetings, and Hanukkah events have begun to fill our inboxes and WhatsApp groups. But it’s impossible to shake the shadow of the war that enveloped us just moments ago – or at least, that’s how it feels.

Even in nature, recovery takes a long time – and that’s how it should be. After a forest fire, the pines do not sprout back immediately. The Carmel region, with its history of countless fires, knows this well. Its landscape of pines and mongooses bears witness to a cycle of destruction and regeneration.

Fires leave behind the faint scent of ruin, but the pinecones eventually open their hearts to ensure continuity. And so, here we stand – residents of the North, much like those charred forests, carrying the indelible scars of what we have endured.

Now is the time when people attempt to return to their homes – rebuilding communities and businesses in some cases. Others try to find their way back to the rhythms of everyday life: a casual evening at a restaurant, idle chatter about end-of-season sales. But things are not the same. Our hearts are not the same. Our lives are not the same. Not entirely.

Revealing truths and hidden strengths

Life feels different because the war revealed truths we would rather have avoided. Disappointments in people are now part of our collective dialogue. Friends and family disappeared when they were needed most. Others only reached out if prompted. But let’s be clear – no one is to blame. We were all grappling with struggles and pain, caught in a whirlwind of survival.

At the same time, there were stories of kindness, devotion, and solidarity. Yet, alongside these acts of grace, we witnessed profound vulnerabilities and fissures. There were also those who received support during the war only to brush it off afterward as if nothing had happened.

The aggression on the roads is another stark reminder of our collective trauma. Confrontations – fistfights over minor disputes, relentless streams of curses – serve as proof that the tension has not left us. The pain we all carry seems to be searching for an outlet, even when it comes at the expense of others.

The battle is not truly over

Let’s not fool ourselves into thinking the battle is truly behind us. Our captives remain buried deep in the clutches of Hamas, each passing day a haunting reminder of their absence. Businesses teeter on the brink of collapse, families struggle to make ends meet, and the economy stands precariously close to the edge.

In the background looms a fractured political reality – a prime minister on trial, a deeply divided society, a Syrian front simmering dangerously, and an ever-present Iranian threat.

This is not the time for celebration or complacency. We may be easing back into a routine, but it feels more like a pause between rounds – a tense silence forewarning what lies ahead.

Yet, we must cling to hope. It is, after all, a fundamental part of our DNA as Israelis – the mechanism that allows us to survive. These are the moments when we search for meaning, gather the pieces, and try – despite everything – to feel a semblance of normalcy.

But having said that, let us not forget that the challenges ahead are immense. Now is the time to think about how we move forward, how we change, and how we build a future that feels less fragile.

Some days, smiling feels impossible. And that’s okay. It’s okay to hold on to the sadness, the anger, the grief. Not everything needs to heal immediately. There are memories we will carry with us, pains that won’t fade easily.

Yet perhaps, by acknowledging this, we can rediscover our purpose. We can find solace in the idea that even if the world feels broken, we are here to rebuild it – slowly, carefully, at our own pace.

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