It was close to a year ago that I started this daily diary of the war to defeat the butchers of Hamas and Hezbollah.  At that time, my heart was racing and filled with horror, sorrow, and fury. Yet, I had faith that my beloved Israel and its brave and wonderful people would punish our enemies and protect our country from further outrages. Little did I know, however, how long it would take, and how many sacrifices would be demanded. Little did I know that I would be sitting watching miracles unfold, like the Hebrews of old who saw the sea split and walked through to dry land as the Egyptians chasing them drowned behind them.

We are not there yet. But we have made unbelievable progress. Close to 87 percent of the residents of the Gaza Envelope are back home, rebuilding their homes, their farms and their lives. Next will come the residents of the north. I have absolutely no doubt.

We have sat back and watched Iran send hundreds of missiles to destroy our civilians, in complete violation of international law, only for us to survive without a single casualty except for one sorry Gazan who was walking around in Jericho when an Iranian missile fell on his head. It was unbelievable to watch that video…

How can such a thing be explained rationally?  It can’t.

We are in the midst of our Holy Days, Rosh Hashana and Yom Kippur and the Ten Days of Repentance in between in which Jews are supposed to examine their actions and their character and try to make amends for their sins.  At such a time, our God is close to us because we are close to Him. It’s not a good time for our enemies.

On the second day of Rosh Hashana, just before we were supposed to blow the shofar (ram’s horn) which lets out a piercing sound that goes right through you, our prayers were interrupted by a siren.  

There wasn’t any panic, and except for one or two women who had children downstairs, no one ran down in haste. Anyway, our small synagogue doesn’t really have a bomb shelter for more than ten people. So we stood there downstairs, waiting for the boom of a missile, or the Iron Dome, and then we waited ten minutes and went back upstairs to continue our service.  Everyone went back, myself included (unlike the time it went off when I was in the pool and hurried home!). And when we finally blew the shofar, it sounded like a defiant answer to the missile siren: That was your threat, and here is our response. Our God is with us.

This morning, three missiles were again sent in our direction, but this time I was home. Again, we went into our bomb shelter. It’s beginning to feel almost normal. And once again, two of the missiles were blown out of the sky, the threat disappearing as the third fell into the sea.

But as I look back on this incredible journey, which we Israelis are still in the midst of, I cannot help but think that everything that has happened, despite the horror and pain and loss, could have been so much worse.

When our troops entered Lebanon, the enormous amount of weapons discovered stuffed to overflowing in kilometer-long underground tunnels all along our border, steps away from our Galilee communities, spelled death in the thousands for Israelis if it hadn’t been discovered in time. For this, we must be grateful.

It is my theory, that the invasion of the Hezbollah Radwan forces, that had been training for years to pillage, murder, and rape, was imminent when Sinwar decided to outdo Nasrallah with his own invasion. I remember Nasrallah saying at the beginning of the war (and I recall thinking at the time that it was odd) that “even though Hamas had not discussed it with him, and even though it had not been agreed upon, nevertheless, Hezbollah would help them win the war.”  Imagine if they had invaded first, and Sinwar had joined them on the same day! Just imagine….

Instead, our troops built up their skills finishing off the Gazans and their tunnels before we began the war against Hezbollah. We did it at a time of our choosing, after the beepers and walkie talkies blinded, maimed, and castrated them, and cut off their communications, and after we took out their entire senior military command.

Tomorrow is October 7. And even though we are in the middle of fierce fighting, we will take time out to commemorate those victims of the worst pogrom since the Holocaust.  In every township, groups of citizens will gather together to watch the same memorial ceremony for October 7 in real time on a giant screen in the center of town. Despite the missile barrages, we will do this. Because we are Israelis. And this is what we do. We gather together, remember, cry, mourn and then we go on.

My grandson, Eilon, who was in Gaza for many months, is now in Lebanon. His lovely bride of one year who just graduated medical school and spent her internship in Soroka Hospital treating victims of October 7, came to our synagogue – which is a bit of a walk from her parents’ house – just to give us a hug and tell us Eilon is ok.  I love that girl. I love my grandson. I love my family, friends, neighbors, countrymen, and every single soldier, airman, and naval officer, border guard and policeman risking their young lives to protect us. We are a country overflowing with love, for each other, and for the God of our ancestors.

We will get through this. How do I know? Because of people like Avidah Becker, the agricultural manager of the pomelo orchards of Be’eri, 15 thousand dunam, who lost his wife of 38 years Dana, his 15 year-old son Carmel, and his leg on October 7, 2023.

Today, Avidah is back at work, war or no war, leg or no leg. “To dive into mourning and longing is too hard. You can’t live that way,” he tells Avigayil Zayit, a writer for Makor Rishon, as he stands upright overlooking his fruit trees on his one leg and his prosthesis. “You have to veer your thoughts to the rational side of your brain, put two photos on the dresser and run forward. I was born in the Gaza Envelope, in these hills and wadis. This is my home, the land I grew up on. It is here I will live, and here I will die.”

May the God of Israel bless our beloved country, and its wonderful, brave, resourceful people with a year of recovery, prosperity, and peace. And may He bring to our enemies, and the enemies of all mankind, the war they deserve, and the incalculable loses they have earned.

Shana Tova.

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