Two years ago, Jews around the world faced a difficult question: can we still dance for Simchat Torah during a catastrophic attack? And this question hasn’t gone away. Last year, on the first anniversary of the attack, many wondered if they could ever celebrate Simchat Torah again.
On the morning of October 7th, my answer was emphatic; we would continue to dance. I explained that Jews have never stopped celebrating the holidays, no matter what the circumstances were. Jews danced on Simchat Torah in the Warsaw Ghetto. During the Yom Kippur War, Yeshiva students danced at Yeshivat Har Etzion, where eight of their 200 students had died in battle.
Jews have always celebrated the Torah, even in the worst of times.
But this answer isn’t an answer; it’s an appeal to precedent. Yes, it makes good sense to emulate the determination and courage of previous generations. We know we must celebrate in order to defy our enemies. But emotionally, this answer falls short. Celebrating Simchat Torah still felt awkward, as if we were dancing in a graveyard.
October 7th was a day of absolute horror. There were savage rapes and beheadings; entire families were burnt to death in their homes. The pain of that day is overwhelming, even to those living 6,000 miles away. How can one even contemplate the last moments of the sweet children murdered that day?
There were 1,200 stories of sorrow that day. Since then, another 577 soldiers have fallen in the battle against Hamas. And many more suffer from injuries and PTSD.
Simchat Torah didn’t feel like a day for Hallel anymore; it felt like a day for Eichah.
But with time, perspectives change. In the aftermath of tragedy, answers elude us; but years later, we see things differently. The pain of the losses doesn’t diminish, but the context does. History isn’t written in a day; and future events change the way we view the past.
How time transforms our attitude to tragedy is the subject of a classic Israeli song, Al Kol Eleh.Written by Naomi Shemer, it made its debut in 1980. The refrain of the song is:
Over all of these, over all of these,
Please guard them for me, my good God.
Over the honey and the sting,
Over the bitter and the sweet.
Please do not uproot what is planted,
Do not forget the hope, (HaTikvah)
Return me and I will return,
To the good land.
Shemer wrote this song to comfort her sister Rutik, whose husband Avraham had died suddenly of a heart attack. But like much of Shemer’s work, the personal and the national converged. Al Kol Eleh was just the right song for a country searching for hope after heartbreak as well. Israel had lost so much in the Yom Kippur War, far more than on October 7th. Nearly 2,700 soldiers died, and Israel at the time had a third of the population it has today. But then, in 1979, Israel made peace with Egypt. Everyone assumed Israel would always be a lonely presence in the Middle East, surrounded with enemies; but now Israel had a peace treaty with its largest, most powerful neighbor.
The sting and the honey of ten tumultuous years now stood side by side, and Al Kol Elehcaptured that moment. Naomi Shemer wrote this song for moments when you appreciate the gifts you have received while still feeling the pain of being stung. Shemer captured what it means to live with the bitter and the sweet all at once.
Today, Al Kol Eleh speaks directly to us once again.
The last 20 living hostages returned home a day before Simchat Torah. This is totally unexpected; over two years our hopes for them had shrunk and almost disappeared. There is a peace agreement that offers the possibility of a demilitarized Gaza. People had long believed that this too is impossible.
Two years after October 7th, the narrative has changed; and now we finally have a reason to celebrate again on Simchat Torah. It has become a day of both the bitter and the sweet. We still must celebrate, even if our hearts are pulled in two directions.
October 7th remains an awful day; but 20 hostages came home. I recognize that is small compared to the suffering of this day. But Jews celebrate small victories. After the Bar Kochva rebellion of 132-135, the Romans initially prevented the Jews from burying their dead. On the 15th of Av, the Jews were granted permission to bury their dead; and that day was declared a holiday. Even though it is only a week after Tisha B’Av, the national day of mourning, the 15th of Av became a day to celebrate life. And even today, it is a day devoted to matching single men and women together.
The war in Gaza is over as well. Yes, it may be temporary. But on Sukkot, we sit in a temporary dwelling and thank God we have even that. In a world that is inherently temporary, a temporary peace is a large gift.
Yes, our hearts still cry on October 7th. But even when life stings, we must savor the sweet. And if you look carefully enough, you will see that there are many sweet things.
The night before the hostages came home, I was watching Israeli TV. At the beginning of the report, the anchor turned to his fellow panelists and said: “Is there another country where everyone is thinking about 20 lost people and knows all their names? Is there another place where they stay up all night to await their return?”
The entire Jewish world has come together for the hostages. We see each other as family; and we see life as paramount.
This is a decided contrast with Hamas. They think if you love life, you are weak; you must be lacking in courage and conviction.
Former Hamas PM Ismail Haniyeh would frequently repeat: “We love death like our enemies love life! We love martyrdom, the way in which [Hamas] leaders died.” (Haniyeh met his end in the very same way.) Hamas sees a love of life as a strategic failing, a lack of true courage. And this is nothing new.
Rabbi Joseph Soloveitchik once related an anecdote told to him by an international diplomat. Prior to the Yom Kippur War, Anwar Sadat, the President of Egypt, invited his ally, the President of Romania Nicolae Ceaușescu, to discuss his war plans. Sadat showed Ceaușescu an Israeli newspaper; on the front cover was the picture of a young soldier who had fallen in battle. Sadat argued Israel could be defeated because the entire country would mourn even individual soldiers. Israel could not tolerate the losses a major war would impose; and Israelis loved life too much to fight an extended war.
Even though it seems to be a strategic burden, Jews have always embraced a love of life. As Soloveitchik explains, “In Judaism when someone dies, a whole world… collapses”. Yet Israel won the Yom Kippur War and the October 7th War anyway. Loving life can motivate an army too.
It is truly sweet to look back at all of the love the Jewish world has given the hostages. It is simply unparalleled anywhere. And that is something to be proud of, something that is truly sweet.
It is also sweet to recall the courage of the younger Gen Z Jews. In the US, they faced encampments, professors who spread libels like “genocide,” and celebrated October 7th. But our young people stood up to the bullying on campus; and they stood by Israel, advocating, volunteering and visiting.
In Israel, Gen Z has shown exceptional bravery. The headline of one Israeli newspaper at the beginning of the war was: “the generation of TikTok: if only we could be worthy of their devotion and heroism.”
Our young people have taken the lead during this very bitter time. To quote the immortal words of Ezekiel, they have insisted that the Jewish people continue to “Live despite your blood.”
The Jewish future is bright. And that is truly sweet.
On Shmini Azeret/Simchat Torah, the custom is to say the Yizkor memorial prayer.
We remember those who have passed away. And that stings, especially when we remember those who died young and were robbed of a bright future.
Yet even at Yizkor there is sweetness. We promise to remember them. We promise to carry their legacy. We promise that even if they are not here, they remain a part of the Jewish future.
Since October 7th, people in our community have named several children after those who have fallen. We have a baby Eden Carmel, and a baby Kfir Ariel. At a bris over a year ago, the parents named the baby after Chen Nachmias, one of the fallen heroes of October 7th.
The baby’s father explained why in his speech:
Chen was an extended family member of ours who was a magnificent man, father of four wonderful small children, devoted husband, beloved friend, and a hero of Israel. Chen devoted 25 years of his life to the protection of the State of Israel, including serving in the Duvdevan commando unit, the Shin Bet, and Yamam, which is an elite counter-terrorist unit. On October 7, Chen’s unit was called to Sderot, unaware of what they would encounter. He was shot twice and kept fighting until he was literally out of ammunition. He left this world a hero, fighting for the Jewish nation.
Now, thousands of miles away, there is a baby boy who carries Chen’s name. Alongside him, we have babies who carry the legacies of Eden Yerushalmi, Carmel Gat, and Kfir and Ariel Bibas.
Their deaths continue to sting. But it is sweet to see how much we continue to love and remember those who have fallen.
And that is reason enough to dance.
Rabbi Chaim Steinmetz is the Senior Rabbi of Congregation Kehilath Jeshurun in New York.
