It has been three months since I last sat down to gather my thoughts and reflect upon life in Israel. Since then, there have been few, if any, sirens hauling us off to safe rooms, and the rhythm of life – for civilians at least – has resembled normal in this far-from-normal place I now call home.
Three months ago, as we welcomed the Jewish New Year, we prayed for the release of the remaining hostages, both living and deceased. Hostage Square in Tel Aviv was packed each week with vigils for their return. When reports emerged that President Trump had arranged a deal in which all the hostages would be freed, it was impossible to believe that Hamas would surrender the only leverage it appeared to have. Nevertheless, here we are, awaiting the return of the last hostage from this nightmare, the hero Ran Gvili. May his body be returned for a proper burial so that his soul may rest in peace and his family may find solace among the mourners of Zion and Israel.
Many of the hostages who survived their hell in Gaza have told stories of remarkable courage and faith. They are the Natan Sharanskys of this generation, tortured and imprisoned for the “crime” of being a Jew. Scouring the headlines on multiple Israeli news sources, I almost daily read a story about a hostage’s connection to Judaism, no matter how tenuous or even absent that connection had been before their abduction, lighting candles with no candles, making kiddush without wine. Subsisting on starvation rations, they refused bread during Passover and fasted on Yom Kippur. The ones who were murdered are martyrs. The ones who survived are spiritual giants.
We hear how these brave souls never lost their humanity. They looked out for one another. They asked for death rather than sacrifice their brothers. Who would have believed that these brutalized survivors who journeyed deep into the heart of darkness would emerge beaming with light?
Among the stories that moved me most was one I read today about the survivor Maxim Herkin, who was not Jewish according to halacha until this week, when he elected to undergo ritual circumcision to make his membership in the tribe official. Someone else might have run away from being a Jew after all he endured – and who would blame him? – but instead Maxim, now Zalman Zelig, runs toward Judaism, toward his G-d and his people. A European friend of mine, who is fighting to obtain a Jewish divorce from her estranged husband, flew to Israel with the express goal of receiving a blessing from an October 7th survivor to “unchain” her. She was blessed by a sweet, smiling Maxim for a swift release from her personal captivity.
Israel’s heroes beyond the battlefield
Heroism in this period has taken many forms. A few months ago, I had the privilege of hearing Iris Haim, mother of Yotam Haim, who was accidentally killed by IDF forces while trying to escape his Hamas captors. She is another unexpected angel who graces this land. In a country that is deeply divided, Iris’s message to the people of Israel is one of unity and healing, forgiveness and compassion. She is a spiritual giant on this remarkable team of heroes that protects this land.
What I have come to understand in these past few months is that the true story of Israel is not the suffering we have endured but the souls who rose in response to it. From the hostages in the hell of Gaza who practiced the faith of their ancestors in whatever way they could, to Maxim, who ran toward the covenant instead of away from it, to Iris Haim, who transformed a mother’s unbearable grief into a message for national unity – each of them is a role model for transcendence. If there is a lesson for the rest of us, it is that the strength we look for in leaders may already be living quietly among us – in mothers who forgive, in survivors who bless strangers, in citizens who refuse to abandon hope. Their courage calls us to rise as well. As we light the candles this week to commemorate the original Hanukkah miracle, may we be cognizant and worthy of the spiritual giants who walk among us. Happy Hanukkah to all!
The writer is a new immigrant from Houston, Texas. Formerly a professor of English as a second language to international students at Houston Community College and the University of Houston, she is currently a lecturer of English at Bar-Ilan University and Ruppin Academic College.