It was a moment of unbridled and uncontrollable realization.
My seven-year-old daughter’s body quivered and then shook as the tears began to flow.
She understood that the 1,412 candles lit in front of her during a memorial ceremony at our local shopping center symbolized every person who had been murdered.
She had accepted, if not entirely understood, that her beloved late cousin Roey Weiser, the “big brother” who liked to tease and play with her, would not be seen again. She knew that he had died a hero saving the lives of many others and protecting our country, but in her childlike innocence, she had made pictures for a funeral she did not understand and did not attend.
However, my wife’s explanation that each and every candle signified someone who died like Roey had shaken her to her young core.
The horrible and heartbreaking consciousness of the moment made me want to scoop her up and tell her it was a joke or a grim misunderstanding.
Unfortunately, we do not have that privilege.
She and her siblings are already unfailingly familiar with death and destruction through seeing the faces of the late Lucy, Maia, and Rena Dee or Ari Fuld which line the streets where they lived, or through the dash to the safe room when the siren wails, signifying another attempted murder by rocket fire.
It has become a discernible facet of life.
I have been asked, not a few times in recent weeks, whether I am better off “coming home”, leaving Israel and living somewhere safer, sparing myself and my family the pain, suffering, and danger.
My first reaction is usually one of incredulity, followed by sympathy for those who make the suggestion or ask the question.
For, while this is a land of great suffering, pain, and tears, it is a land of far more abundant happiness, devotion, sharing, and meaning.
Israel is a place where family transcends bloodlines, and where community exceeds municipal boundaries. Complete strangers are constantly doing acts of kindness for people they do not know and might never meet.After the murder of the Dee family, there were barely a few days that passed when we did not receive some baked goods or gifts from a different neighborhood, town, or city from across the country, consoling us as mere neighbors of those grieving.
Our children are brought up to understand that they have an obligation to contribute to their society, especially those less fortunate, whether independently organizing and staffing summer sleepaway camps for mentally and physically disabled children, singing songs of inspiration for Holocaust survivors isolated during the pandemic, or simply organizing circles of prayer, singing, and comfort for each other after any terrorist attack.
Over the last few weeks and months, I have understood that it is our youth who will hold us up when we are in deep pain and despair. They learn at an early age to be strong and to give strength.
In the happier moments, which are far greater in number than those of anguish, our children can be found laughing, singing, and dancing with unrestrained joy.
It is in great part the joy of identity and belonging.
They have both an innocence and wisdom which belie their years and seem to be constantly striving for purpose and meaning which they find in both the mundane and the unique.
Jewish fate and destiny in this land need to be constantly nurtured and built, but which in turn, nurture and build us anew every day. Living here challenges and rejuvenates us, mind, body, and soul.
Israel is rife with the rhythms of Jewish existence. It is impossible to ignore even outside of formal religious life. It is in our language, calendar, and culture. Our past and future intermingle in even ordinary acts.
So, when I am asked why I live here, I don’t always understand the question even if I comprehend the intention behind the words.
It simply couldn’t be any other way.
Our forever home
From the moment I stepped off the plane from London to make this my permanent home, there was no going back. Not because I didn’t have a place or life to return to, but because the allure of this country and its people became instantly and constantly magnetic.
My bond and pact with this country transcends words or descriptions. It is unshakable and unbreakable.As we face the difficult weeks, months, and years ahead, I look at our future in this country with trepidation but absolutely no doubts or hesitation.
We will emerge victorious, stronger, and better.
This battle has created a unity of purpose not witnessed in generations. We can see and feel it all around us. Each of us has a role – immigrant and sabra, religious and secular, left and right-wing alike – because what we have all understood is that beyond our real and imagined appellations, we are all Israelis.
This is our country, and we will fight for it.
So, despite the tears of my children, or perhaps because of them, in both pain and joy, I will proclaim loudly and proudly, that there is no place I would rather be than Israel.
The writer is a strategic and campaigns consultant and a former senior government advisor.