How many times have we wished we could turn the clock back to October 6, armed with the knowledge we now possess? If only we could prevent the disaster that blindsided our people. But time cannot be reversed. What remains within our grasp is the ability to ask: What have we learned – about ourselves, our relationship with God, our place in history, our peoplehood, and the world that surrounds us?
Any attempt to “draw lessons” must first acknowledge that we are still living through this unfolding war. Lives remain at risk, and our condition is still perilous. We continue to pray to God to shield His people. However, this struggle and its larger consequences are far from over. Moreover, ideology and ideas must never overshadow human pathos, especially the immense suffering our people are still experiencing in manifold areas.
Before we explore what we’ve learned, we must first deeply empathize with the pain endured by so many, recognize the profound layers of trauma we’ve absorbed, and understand that it will take generations to heal. Dispassionate discussions or articles about “lessons” and “takeaways” are insensitive and callous. The first and foremost lesson is that when a Jew suffers, we stop and offer our hearts and shoulders. Ideology should never precede identifying with human suffering.
Religious lessons
Though we have left behind the geographical exile, some of its terms and conditions still linger. On that dark day in October, God’s presence was concealed for 12 hours – a period known as hester panim, the hiding of His face. Our current experience of hester panim is not as extreme as it was over the past 2,000 years, yet living in Israel does not guarantee that God’s ways will always be clear to us. And just because we are nearing the end of history does not mean that His will won’t remain mysterious or perplexing at times.
There is an additional reminder of the terms of Jewish exile that we felt on that bleak day. In exile, we were utterly vulnerable and defenseless, with no state, no army, no sovereignty. With the transition to Jewish sovereignty, we rightfully felt empowered to protect ourselves and safeguard Jews worldwide.
Yet, this past year reminded us that, in the end, we are still helpless without divine aid. With God’s help, we have defended and recovered. In a manner reminiscent of the 1973 Yom Kippur War, we were caught by surprise, facing a potentially existential threat. Nevertheless, we have once again proven our national resilience and have begun to turn the tide of this war.
However, we all felt the bleakness of our situation and the fragile nature of our survival in Israel. We played out worse doomsday scenarios in our minds, ones that could have materialized but, thankfully, were averted. Oct. 7 served as a sobering reminder that despite our newfound reality of Jewish sovereignty and self-defense – despite the conviction that it is God’s will for us to defend ourselves – we remain entirely dependent on divine decrees.
Four years ago, during the COVID crisis, humanity collectively lost its health in the face of a global pandemic. This past year, our people lost our sense of security. Each tragedy served as a stark reminder of how fragile our condition is and how precarious our return to sovereignty remains. Hopefully, in the wake of these dangers, we will emerge as people of greater faith.
This experience has hopefully taught us to speak with greater intellectual humility and less certainty about our place in history. Many religious people view the mass return of Jews to Israel and the establishment of the state through prophetic and redemptive lenses. Despite its imperfections, the state is often seen as a harbinger of a messianic era.Regardless of the terminology and phraseology, this approach can breed an unhealthy overconfidence, leading to potentially irresponsible statements and actions.
While we are advancing toward the end of history, this process may take decades or even generations. We must learn to speak with more humility, shedding the all-knowing attitude toward events that remain beyond human comprehension. No one could have scripted a tragedy of this magnitude into a neatly reconciled redemptive narrative. Clearly, the trajectory of history will unfold in ways that we cannot fully grasp or predict.
Peoplehood and unity
We also learned a great deal about ourselves and our Jewish identity. We learned that the State of Israel is essential for Jewish survival. In theory, one can distinguish between anti-Zionism and antisemitism, opposing the idea of a Jewish state without hating Jews. However, in practical terms, history has shown that without the State of Israel, the world is incapable of safeguarding Jewish existence. Antisemitism is too deeply rooted in human culture and hatred.
Without Israel, Jews simply would not survive. And, of course, without Israel, Jewish identity would not survive, either. This war has proven how intricately connected and intertwined the global Jewish family is, how deeply we are bound by our shared past, legacy, tradition, and destiny. It has taught us to better appreciate the broader Am Yisrael that spans the globe.
We hopefully learned that Israel is too fragile a nation to withstand sharp divisions and prolonged social discord. Thankfully, we have built a vibrant democracy that not only reflects God’s will for a just governance but is also a national and strategic asset. The pooling of talent and creativity that democracy fosters will always triumph over tyrannical regimes that stifle human potential through oppression.
However, the social strife and political infighting nearly jeopardized our future. No ideological stance can be more important than unity. Unity must stop being a slogan or a cliché; it must become a national priority. Leaders who unify should be elected, while those who polarize should be rejected.
A year of ideological turmoil led to a year of war and tragedy. We cannot allow any political or ideological gain, no matter how significant, to take precedence over our basic unity in reconstructing Jewish history. As an aside, it should be clear to anyone after Oct. 7 – as if it weren’t obvious before – that any Jew who dares to call another Jew a Nazi has shamelessly betrayed Jewish history. Any mouth that applies this heinous term toward another Jew has become religiously defiled. Whatever prayers that mouth offers or whatever Torah that mouth studies is disregarded in heaven.
Humanity’s challenge
We have also learned much about humanity. Antisemitism is not a relic of an ancient, savage world; it is very much alive. It is hardwired into the human subconscious and erupts whenever given an opportunity. This oldest of hatreds has the power to unite people from vastly different ideologies who would otherwise agree on little.
We learned that knowledge, education, and dialogue are incapable of eradicating antisemitism entirely. Institutions once revered as bastions of higher learning have been exposed as cesspools of moral decay and vile hatred. We also learned that human beings are still capable of committing horrific atrocities. The modern enlightened world continues to produce unthinkable evil and the potential for barbaric behavior.
Furthermore, in an age of information, disinformation perpetuates hatred, bigotry, and ignorance. Ironically, we once believed that the Internet and social media would liberate people from ignorance and propaganda. Instead, social media has thwarted this hope. Bots and algorithms now shape public opinion, influence policy, and even manipulate elections. As humanity advances, the tools we thought would liberate us have begun to ensnare us. We can’t go back. We can only move forward, more informed, and better prepared to navigate the tumultuous journey of Jewish history.■
The writer is a rabbi at the hesder Yeshivat Har Etzion/Gush, with ordination from Yeshiva University and a master’s degree in English literature from the City University of New York. He is the author of Dark Clouds Above, Faith Below (Kodesh Press), and the soon-to-be-published Reclaiming Redemption: Deciphering the Maze of Jewish History (Mosaica Press).