On October 7, our world changed. The pain we suffered was unimaginable, the loss incomprehensible. But along with all of the pain and suffering, the October 7 attacks and the war which followed also inspired a spiritual renewal, the likes of which has not been seen since the Six-Day War. Almost immediately, many secular Jews here in Israel chose to embrace their Jewish identity and reclaim their faith, deepen their commitment to Torah and mitzvot, and seek a deeper connection with Hashem.
Right away, the call went out for tallitot and tefillin, Tehillim and siddurim for soldiers. New recruits together with older reservists – many of whom had not previously worn tzitzit – requested pairs. The demand was so great, for months my children spent hours each night tying tzitzit to those olive green begadim. And they are still tying tzitzit for soldiers in communities around the world.
It felt like a spiritual revolution was in the air: Restaurants in Tel Aviv that never would have dreamed of going kosher began kashering their kitchens to feed soldiers. Young men began laying tefillin on their tattooed arms. Women began to light candles and families started keeping Shabbat.
In June, Israel’s KAN network aired an interview with Yelena Tropanov of Kibbutz Nir Oz, whose husband was murdered on October 7th, while she, together with her mother and son, were taken hostage by Hamas. Yelena and her mother were released as part of November’s ceasefire agreement, but her son Sasha is still in Gaza. While Yelena told her story, cleaning what remained of her home, she kept making mention of “HaKaBaH,” and how “HaKaBaH” had released the hostages, to the confusion of the interviewer. Thinking she was referring to Israeli intelligence or security forces, the interviewer asked her to clarify what she meant by “HaKaBaH.” Without flinching, Lena explained, “HaKadosh Baruch Hu!”
The interviewer was surprised by the faith of this kibbutznikit, but Yelena explained that after what she saw and experienced, she had no choice but to believe in Hashem. This August, I happened to meet Yelena while at a hotel in Ramat Gan with my family. I told her how much the interview inspired me, how I was impressed by her strength of spirit and her faith, and how I shared her sentiments with members of my synagogue. But she appeared unmoved. To her, it is so obvious. Hashem is in charge.
In recent years, Selichot services at the Kotel and elsewhere around the country have attracted a growing number of participants. This year, in light of the war, the numbers are unprecedented. Young people are posting selfies and videos of themselves singing songs from Selichot. Even the Israeli media is covering this new “trend.”
Popular songs on Israeli radio today – the songs which have become the anthems of this war – emanate from a deep spiritual place. They draw on Jewish themes, motifs, prayers, and texts. And young people sing them like tefillot.
This October 7, on the one-year anniversary of the attacks, Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu suggested renaming this war Milchemet HaTekumah – the War of Revival. The name change is an apt description, expressing that this war is not only a fight for our physical existence, but a spiritual revolution; a revival; a renaissance.
But like any revolution, it is not without struggle. There is a struggle today for the very soul of the state of Israel. As I pen this article, the Tel Aviv municipality has rejected a ruling by Israel’s Supreme Court which would allow traditional, gender-separated minyanim on Yom Kippur in outdoor public spaces.
In the days and weeks leading up to the October 7 attacks, the division between right and left, religious and secular, reached its height. The protests surrounding judicial reform and against the government exposed a chasm in this country. This rift reached an ugly climax on Yom Kippur, when protesters interrupted outdoor tefillot, tearing down mechitzot. Following the fast, we turned on our computers and saw the shocking images of what had taken place on our holy day. Now Tel Aviv seeks to ban those same mechitzot and minyanim from public spaces.
According to both the Ramban (Devarim 30:11) and the Rambam (Hilchot Teshuva 7:5), the Torah guarantees that the Jewish people will do teshuvah and return to Hashem before the Final Redemption:
And it will be, when all these things come upon you, the blessing and the curse which I have set before you that you will consider in your heart, among all the nations where Hashem, your G-d, has banished you. And you will return to Hashem, your G-d, with all your heart and with all your soul, and you will listen to His voice according to all that I am commanding you this day, you and your children. Then, Hashem, your G-d, will bring back your exiles, and He will have mercy upon you. He will once again gather you from all the nations, where Hashem, your G-d, had dispersed you. Even if your exiles are at the end of the heavens, Hashem, your G-d, will gather you from there, and He will take you from there. And Hashem, your G-d, will bring you to the land which your forefathers possessed, and you will take possession of it, and He will do good to you, and He will make you more numerous than your forefathers (Devarim 30:1-5).
For the Vilna Gaon, Rav Yehudah Alkalai, Rav Avraham Yitzchak Kook, and Rav Yissachar Shlomo Teichtal, the very physical return of the Jewish nation to its ancestral homeland is already the beginning of this process of national teshuvah; the return of the Jewish people to its soil is the beginning of redemption.
Something incredible is taking place before our very eyes. We are witnessing a spiritual awakening today in the state of Israel. But will the “post-October 7 Jew” ultimately return to his pre-October 7 life? Can this spiritual momentum sustain itself? And if so, for how long? I don’t have the answer. But I do believe that the religious community must continue to encourage and embrace those seeking to strengthen their relationship with Hashem and deepen their commitment to Torah and mitzvot. And in that merit, may we merit the Final Redemption.
