Simchat Torah ended with the news of five soldiers killed in Lebanon, and dozens of others wounded. The next morning, the “Families and Commemoration Department” of the Ministry of Defense published a report with the the numbers of those killed in the war so far: 808 soldiers and members of the security establishment, including 43 members of the security forces of the kibbutzim, 75 policemen and women, and 7 shin bet agents (the equivalent of the FBI.) Most had been single, but they also left over 300 widows and widowers, and 645 children.
But the tally of deaths one year into the Hebrew anniversary of the Oct 7 massacres was premature. A couple of hours later, five more names of reservists were added to the list, and minutes before Shabbat, three more names were added. This morning, we were told of four more reservists who were killed in Lebanon. The numbers were joined by at least one dead in a terrorist attack just outside an Intelligence base north of Tel Aviv.
After the names and photos in the headlines are replaced by fresh news stories, the numbers begin to feel once more amorphous, impersonal. Until you hear bad news from someone who lost a loved one, such as today’s announcement of the death of Rabbi Avi Goldberg. Until you spend Simchat Torah with the member of the synagogue whose daughter was the longtime girlfriend of a soldier killed the previous week. Until you get a WhatsApp message from Lavi’s mom with the date and time of the hazkara, the yearly remembrance ceremony, for the boy you knew and loved.
This morning, I learned another number: 29. That’s the number of fallen in my city since October 7 last year. I learned this because it took almost a full class of eleventh graders in my son’s school to carry the photos of each of them in today’s ceremony marking one year (Hebrew date) since the war began.
(They actually carried 31 posters, because they added he photo of Yonatan Deutch, the son of the former principal, and of Amir Lavi, the son of the one of the school’s counselors.)
A and I sat behind two sets of bereaved parents, both of whom we know from our extended community. Flashbacks of that same school amphitheater in first day of school ceremonies, and Remembrance Day ceremonies, and in graduation ceremonies. All of them in this shared space, where three of those in the posters had once stood as students in middle school or high school.
After lots of tears, and after the national anthem, back to “normal life.” Saying hi to other parents in the community. Hugging former teachers. Hearing how one teacher had run into Y a few weeks ago. And especially today, happy and relieved to be able to answer the question “where’s B these days?” with “on his way home… he came out of Lebanon.”
What’s next?
As I write this in a cafe in Modiin, I run into a very good friend of my daughter. She is starting the army tomorrow. Obligatory selfie, then a reminder that basic training will be hell, but that it will be over at some point.
The long-delayed retaliatory attack on Iran came and went. It’s old news by now, barely making the headlines after a full day of news outlets regurgitating the same bare information. It will probably be years until we understand the scope of what was achieved —and what was avoided and forestalled— thanks to that operation.
And there are new reports of a possible deal with Hamas. Of course, we’re much more cynical and wiser to pin our hopes on a deal so prematurely… but given the state of this country, and given the devastation all around, and given the unbelievable fact that we are still yet to hear from our government what they now intend to reach to declare “victory” now that Sinwar is dead, this better be the beginning of something positive.
Below: photos from last night’s rally in support of the release of the hostages, with a collage of 101 stones, each bearing the name of one hostage, that the attendees helped put together in between songs, tears and prayers.
*P.S. As I was about to send this update, two more names released for publication.
No words. Thank you for yours.
Barely time to catch your breath. We must hang on to hope for peace and keep breathing...🕊🤍💙🇮🇱🤍💙🕊🌟