Category: Connect with Israel

More than 700 days have passed since October 7—nearly two years since that horrific morning tore through Israeli life.

And for every one of those days, dozens of hostages have remained in Gaza, held by Hamas in conditions we can barely imagine. Today, that number stands at 48. It’s believed that 20 are still alive.

Among them is Alon Ohel.

A Glimpse of Life

Last week, for the first time since he was taken, we saw Alon.

In a Hamas video, another hostage—Guy Gilboa Dalal—is paraded through Gaza, pleading for his life. Alon appears beside him. A single, fleeting moment. A moment that marks the first visual proof Alon is still alive since October 7, 2023.

It means something. For his family, it means everything.

Until now, they had nothing. No photo. No message. Nothing since Alon disappeared from a shelter near Kibbutz Re’im, after escaping the Nova music festival massacre.

We now know from Hostage, a new book by survivor Eli Sharabi, who was held captive with Alon for months, that Alon was expected to be released in February. But the second-phase deal never came.

And so, seven months later, the agonizing wait continues.

This Sukkot, We Make Room for Them

As we look ahead to Sukkot, a time of shelter and solidarity, we’re preparing to turn our grief into action.

Together with the Hostages Families Forum, Adas Israel, and partners across Greater Washington, we will build a Sukkah of Hope in front of the White House.

A place to gather. To remember. To say out loud: they are still there. And we are still here.

Refusing to Look Away

Even in this unbearable reality, a single photo can mean everything.

It means someone is still alive.
It means their story is not over.
It means we still have time to bring them home.

And it means the world still needs to hold Hamas to account for these ongoing atrocities and the suffering inflicted on so many innocent lives.

We carry that truth into Sukkot, into the shelter we build, the space we hold, and the hope we refuse to let go of.

May this be the year they come home.
And may it also be the year of peace.

Over the past several weeks, I’ve spoken with donors, volunteer leaders, Federation staff, and colleagues across Jewish organizations, all seeking to understand how to make sense of this moment of division and conflict.

Each one of us can name the many divisions that exist within our country, our community, the Jewish people, and often within our own families. What struck me most, however, in my many conversations, were the fractures and struggles that exist within each one of us. Some feel uneasy about how national leaders address antisemitism on college campuses yet relieved the issue is finally receiving attention. They are grappling with the rise of antisemitism and anti-Israel sentiment and with the complexity of how best to respond.

Most commonly, however, the conversation evolves to questions about Israel, Hamas, Gaza, Palestinians, and the hostages. Many people deeply believe in the need for Israel to eliminate the threat posed by Hamas and to ensure the horrors of October 7 never happen again. They see the war as an existential one to Israel’s survival and by extension of the future of the Jewish people. For many, Israel is a cornerstone of Jewish identity and safety. Our fear is not only what happens on the ground, but also about what it means for Jewish life, security, and solidarity around the world.

And, at the same time, many of these same people are deeply struggling with what they read every day about the number of lives lost, the level of hunger that may exist in Gaza and a war with no end in sight, and the devastating possibility that the hostages will not return home. One person stated that they felt ashamed, both by the actions of the Israeli government and by the part of themselves that believes these actions may be necessary to ensure a safe and secure Jewish future. That tension stayed with me. For many, this moment is not about certainty, but about navigating conflicting truths: fearing what inaction might invite, while grieving what action demands.

Another person shared that they’ve been waiting, hoping that Israel’s actions might eventually bring about something redemptive. That we would be able to say, “This is why,” and find some clarity or affirmation in the face of so much pain and that the broader world would finally understand. But that moment hasn’t come. And for some, it’s beginning to feel like it may not. What once felt like hopeful anticipation has become another layer of grief and shame.

One of our greatest challenges, both in conversation and as a community, is resisting the impulse to expect ourselves or others to have clarity when there is none. These are morally complex times. The struggle many are experiencing is about identity. What does it mean to be Jewish, to live our values, when we are confronted with human suffering, fear, a longing for justice, and a sense of abandonment?

As the Jewish Federation, we strive to be both clear in our values and aspirations for a vibrant Jewish community while creating space for honest conversation that does not demand clarity or agreement. By recognizing that those with whom we are speaking may also be struggling within themselves, we can begin to soften the divides that exist between us and stay in relationship through the uncertainty and discomfort.

As we move forward, I continue to believe in the power of this community to show up for one another, hold space for complexity, and lead with compassion. Our perspectives may differ, but the emotions we carry can still connect us. In a moment that could pull us apart, our shared experience can hold us together.

Thank you for your partnership, your courage, and your commitment.