January 16, 2025

I am here this time to lead a congregational mission. I came three days early to visit with dear, old friends and to see people with whom we have become close since the start of the war.

The nature of our mission is to do a retrospective since we were here as a congregation exactly a year ago. Some are returnees from that mission, but the majority are here for the first time since the war began. We are here to continue to show our steadfast solidarity with our brothers and sisters who are still at war. We will spend significant time with our friends of Kibbutz Nir Oz and Kibbutz Erez; meet with journalists, representatives of the IDF; get updated on what is happening up North and spend a day on the Gaza border. A lot more to come on our daily activity. The point is that we are here to show our steadfast love and support and bear witness to report back to all of you. I continue to be so proud of our congregation as you/they continue to show up. Indeed, your way of being during this past year plus has moved me as much as anything has in my years as a rabbi.

I have been here for just about 24 hours so far and the paradox of anticipatory relief and exhaustion is palpable. The anticipation of a Cease Fire deal, along with the beginning of hostages finally coming home is creating a vibe of potential relief. Relief in the fact that families will see their loved ones freed from the torturous tunnels of terror in Gaza. One could almost see and feel the embrace of redemption. There is potential relief in the idea that soldiers can start to return home and end the longest war Israel has ever fought. Parents and spouses look to go to sleep at night without the worry of the treacherous knock of horrible news at their doors. But I use the words “anticipatory” because as of this minute, the agreement has still not been passed by the Israeli cabinet because of last minute reneging by Hamas. No one trusts that the agreement will be real until it is, well, real.

And the other side of that paradox is existential exhaustion. The weariness is utterly evident. It is written all over the faces of seemingly every citizen. Israelis are tired. They are tired of war. They are tired of worrying for their fellow citizens in captivity. They are tired of spending so much time in bomb shelters. They are tired of being worried that those missiles might hit. They are tired of sending their children to have to take the lives of others, even when they have had no choice. They are simply exhausted! And that doesn’t even touch the trauma that still has to be processed.

Follow me in this space, as I will write as much as our packed schedule allows. Thank you for caring to read.

In the meanwhile, I send you love from my Tel Aviv. Please pray with me that we will see our brothers and sisters in captivity start to come home within days.