For two long and very painful years, we’ve held our collective breath. Now, please God, we may finally exhale.

For the moment, all we can do is pray — that by Monday the living hostages will be safely reunited with their loved ones. That the remains of the dead will be returned to their families who, please God, at long last will find a measure of peace and closure.

We also know that the road to recovery is still very long and uncertain, not only for the hostages and their families, but for all of Israel and the region. We pray, too, that the people of Gaza will be freed from the brutality of Hamas and move toward a more peaceful future.

The toll of these two years is almost incomprehensible. At one point, it was estimated that nearly a third of the population in Israel — 3 million people — were struggling with war-related mental health challenges.

To date, more than 1,150 Israeli soldiers have been killed. Of the fallen, 42% were under the age of 21. At least 20,000 soldiers have been wounded, some with life-altering injuries. Hundreds of thousands are still struggling to rebuild their lives in the south and north of Israel.

These are heartbreaking numbers, but behind the numbers are human stories of heroism, sacrifice, grief, and resilience. 

And enormous ongoing need.

From the very beginning, UJA has been there — one of the largest philanthropic supporters of Israel since October 7 — mobilizing our community to meet the evolving needs. And we will continue to be there in the months and years ahead as Israel charts a course forward.

Earlier this week, to mark the unfathomable two-year anniversary of October 7, we organized (along with our partners at JCRC-NY and the Hostage Families Forum) a large community-wide memorial in New York at the Temple Emanu-El Streicker Center. In Israel, we helped support the memorial at Tel Aviv’s Hayarkon Park, bringing together 30,000 people. All stood united to mourn and to plead for the release of the remaining hostages.

The memorials this year coincided with the holiday of Sukkot, the only Jewish holiday referred to as Z’man Simchateinu, the Time of Our Joy. And as we all know, October 7, 2023, fell on the last day of the Sukkot holiday — Simchat Torah, historically a day of joy and celebration marking the completion of the annual Torah reading cycle, followed immediately by the start of a new one. Among the many tragic dimensions of October 7 was that our joy was inverted into overwhelming sorrow.

I vividly recall the Shabbat immediately following October 7, 2023, when I was in Israel and attended my favorite synagogue in Tel Aviv, famous for its intense youthful energy.

To know this synagogue is to know the history of Israel. It was founded by pioneers in the 1930s, before the state itself existed. And it was largely abandoned for many years until about 20 years ago, when a group of idealistic young adults in their 20s from Israel and olim from abroad came together to rebuild the synagogue. Today, on a normal Shabbat, many hundreds of young people, with infants and toddlers all around, jam into every square inch of the building.

But on that Shabbat one week after October 7, the shul was empty and forlorn, many of the young fathers having already been called up to serve. The remains of the Simchat Torah celebration — candies and tiny Israeli flags — lay scattered across the floor, a painful incongruity with the anguish we all felt.

Since then, it’s been as though Simchat Torah itself was forever changed in some fundamental way. And so, it feels like a blessing now to approach this holiday with the expectation, please God, that the hostages will be coming home this Monday, the eve of Simchat Torah in Israel.

How full of light our beautiful Tel Aviv synagogue, and all our synagogues, will be as we dance with our Torahs. How the youngest children resting on their fathers’ and mothers’ shoulders will laugh, not knowing why the adults’ tears come so easily.

Tears of gratitude mingled with grief. Tears of joy mingled with relief.

Shabbat shalom and chag sameach