633 Days Later

When the massacres on October 7th, 2023 happened, I was in shock.

Then, a long sadness came.

Regularly, I would become lachrymose reading the horrible stories of whole families, peace-loving concert-goers, and other innocent victims being raped, tortured, and murdered.

These stories continue to return to the media as ex-hostages share their stories while in the depths of the tunnels, hell on Earth.

Yet 633 days later, the teary-eyes seldom arrive.

I wondered, have I changed?

I was reminded of the origin story of the Jewish National Anthem, Hatikvah.

Jewish poet Naftali Herz Imber in 1878 wrote the song, inspired by the story of Ezekiel.

The Jews were exiled from Babylon in 586 BCE.

It was a profound loss of their land, their first temple destroyed, and a fear that their God abandoned them.

Ezekiel, a prophet in exile, had a vision of God bringing him to a “valley of dry bones.”

The “dry bones” represented the death of the Jewish people’s temple, land, nation, and identity while in exile.

There was seemingly nothing left.

But God promised, “I will open your graves and bring you back to the land of Israel.”

That vision became a prophecy for hope.

It inspired the tribe, bringing hope that they would eventually return to their homeland.

I realized my dispassion was like the dry bones.

My eyes were no longer wet, and my feelings hardened like dry bones.

But in Hatikvah, Naftali Herz Imber wrote, “Our hope is still not lost.”

Numbness is a phase of mourning.

Emotions will return.

Even in the worst of times, there’s still hope.

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As long as within our hearts

The Jewish soul sings,

As long as forward to the East

To Zion, looks the eye –

Our hope is not yet lost,

It is two thousand years old,

To be a free people in our land

The land of Zion and Jerusalem.

-Hatikvah