How the Jews became more Jew-y

On October 7^th, the invaders came, intent on destroying Jewish life.
Killing wasn’t enough. They wanted to torture and humiliate. To steal our joy and our future.

They thought that if they brought the Holocaust to Israel, they could break us.
And they did bring the Holocaust to Israel – with fire, slaughter, and even plans to gas Jews.

But instead of breaking us, they made the Jews more Jew-y.

Jews understood that it didn’t matter to the invaders whether we are religious or secular, from a kibbutz or a “settlement.” To the enemy, we are all “settlers.” We are all Jews, and therefore, in their eyes, we must all be destroyed.

Liberated hostages came back telling stories of clinging to the God of Israel to preserve their sanity. People who had little to no connection to the traditions of our ancestors suddenly felt the desire to adhere to them. To pray. Mark the Sabbath. To honor the holy days.

Some told their families they wanted to make Kiddush on Friday night, the ritual blessing over wine that sanctifies the Sabbath. This isn’t drinking for pleasure. It is testimony: a declaration that the Creator of the Universe chose us among the nations. It is a time we declare that we are drinking to life.

Think about that for a moment.

In some cases, their captors gave hostages books to pass the time, books our soldiers left behind – the Bible and books of Jewish thought.

The soldiers of Israel were studying in their free time. They who had gone to war to retrieve the honor stolen from their defiled sisters and slaughtered brothers, to rescue hostages and secure the future for their families left at home took note of what they found in every home in Gaza – images of the Dome of the Rock in the heart of Jerusalem, maps of Israel meant to be Palestine, and the Koran.

They were in the homes of religious ideologues, not people dreaming of a better economy.

And Israel’s bereaved? So many of them responded to the hole ripped in their hearts by gifting a new Torah scroll to their community synagogue in honor of their beloved. Every Torah scroll is handwritten on parchment by an expert scribe; every letter must be perfect, or it cannot be used. This makes it an expensive memorial—but it is also a declaration of life and victory. The Torah is what makes us the People of the Book. It is the heart of who we are.

A son killed, fighting so that the Nation of Israel may survive.
A Torah scroll written in his honor, preserving the faith and identity the enemy hoped—and still hopes—to erase.

In the Jewish State, giving a new Torah scroll is a public celebration. The scroll is completed with the participation of honored guests. Then family, friends, and neighbors dance the new scroll to “meet” the scrolls that are already in the synagogue. It’s a celebratory procession through the streets of the community, an invitation to joy and an opportunity to remember what makes us who we are.

We are the People who dance with our Book. The Book that is the foundation of our identity—and of the free world.

Could this dance take place anywhere else on earth? In the land of our ancestors, Jews are free to celebrate being Jews.

Yesterday, I attended the dedication of a new Torah scroll honoring Staff Sgt. Neria Ben David who fell in battle on October 7th in Be’eri. Neria was just 22 years old.

A woman taking a picture of a flag memorializing Neria, with the colors and symbol of his unit and a statement that represents his spirit: “Don’t look at who gets there first, ask yourself how you will get there.”

If you appreciate my writings and would like to support my efforts, please consider a PayPal donation to help me bring Inspiration from Zion to people around the world.