On some level, we knew. When Shiri Bibas and her children were not exchanged in the first prisoner swap after 54 days of captivity, on some level, we knew. When they weren’t listed among the first waves of this agreement. When we lived without any signs of life these 501 days. And yet, as journalist Matti Friedman put it in yesterday’s episode of Dan Senor’s podcast Call Me Back: we refused to believe, refused to give up hope.

Those babies, with their angelic faces and beautiful red hair, became symbols. Symbols of the horror of more than 1,200 innocent people killed by terrorists in their homes and at concerts. The horror of sons and daughters, parents and grandparents taken hostage and held in the most inhumane conditions. The horror of watching as celebrations of this terror attack erupted in every major city around the world. The despair as the narrative turned to blame Israel and Jews everywhere, as if anything could justify violence and evil actions of this sort.

After 503 days in which Israel is not only on the defensive at home, but equally on the defensive abroad in the conversation about this war. After all these months in which the conduct of Israel during this war has been scrutinized, while the reality that Hamas would place their own people in danger in their homes, hospitals and schools was given a blind eye. They said they don’t kill children; here we have the truth. Yesterday we watched as families in Gaza brought their own children out to watch the parade of coffins of Israeli children. What a nauseating reality check.

But now Ariel and Kfir’s bodies have been returned, dead it seems since November 2023. Shiri’s body still unreturned, at the time of this writing, Hamas claiming a “mixup.” The body of Oded Lifshitz, a grandfather of 83, home now too; a left-leaning peacenik activist who helped secure Bedouin rights in Israel and drove Palestinian children to medical appointments. Last week we learned of the death of 86-year-old hostage Shlomo Mansour, who fled anti-Jewish pogroms in Iraq in 1941 and became part of the mass migration (135,000 people) of a Jewish community that had flourished there for more than 2,000 years. Let’s refocus on why Jews sought to re-establish a land of our own: to be safe, to be strong. Europeans allowed more than 1/3 of the Jewish people to be tortured and killed under their own noses in the 1940s; in the decades that followed more than 850,000 Jews were expelled from Arab countries who didn’t want them there anymore. The pictures of Shiri and her children were a symbol of barbarity, yes; but also, a symbol of the failure to live up to Never Again. That picture, as Friedman put it, was supposed to be from pogroms century ago. Not Israel in 2023.

I wish I had something comforting to say, something to offset the despair. Just three weeks ago, I stood at the Bibas family home at Kibbutz Nir Oz, placing flowers and balloons at their door. Here is a video if you want to share in that moment. The tour guide narrating is Liat Atzili, who was taken hostage and held for 54 days.

I have only what I always have: the sense that sticking together will help, the sense that stronger commitment to one another as a Jewish community will help us as we grieve, as we face what we didn’t want to know, as we share our fears and disappointment. Tomorrow we celebrate at Oheb the bar mitzvah of one of our many Israeli-American families; if you’re feeling alone and broken-hearted, join us in the Oheb Shalom sanctuary where, as former hostage Noa Argamani put it after her release, we will be dancing again, celebrating the resilience of the Jewish people through our tears. No terrorists can take that from us. Only we can choose to give that away and now we know: we won’t.

There is something else, too. L’havdil, as the expression goes. This week’s blog post was supposed to have been dedicated to upcoming elections that you may know nothing about, but have a huge role to play in. I could have put it off, but voting begins on March 10, and we need to get the word out now. Every five years, the World Zionist Congress – the one established back in the day by Theodore Herzl – holds an election. Every Jew in the world over the age of 18 is eligible to vote.

The election determines how nearly $2 billion of non-government money is allocated in Israel every year. Here’s the rub: even though the ultra-orthodox are a minority in Israel and around the world, they all come out to vote. Meanwhile we Reform and Conservative Jews don’t bother. Compound to this that the mainstream orthodox and ultra-orthodox band together in their election efforts, and you’ll see the problem. For all of us who walk around bemoaning the hegemony of right-wing orthodoxy in Israel, this is our chance to do something about it. As one of my colleagues put it:We can either secure a place at the table in the coming years or find ourselves looking through the kitchen window from the outside as dollars are being allocated and critical long-term decisions are being made.  It is very easy to raise our voices for democracy and pluralism in both America and Israel.  It is more difficult to know where real impact can be made. The upcoming elections for WZO matter. This is where synagogues get their funding from in Israel, where the Kotel (Western Wall) gets funding for an egalitarian space, where progressive non-profit organizations, camps and schools will be allocated their budgets. 

This blog was supposed to be dedicated to asking you to register with the Conservative Movement’s WZC party, called Mercaz. Click here to put your email address on Mercaz-USA’s list to receive online voting instructions. Oheb Shalom has been assigned the number 250, so that Ed Zinbarg, Oheb’s captain for this election, can track how many (though not who) of us have voted and know when to stop pushing.There is a $5 registration fee to cover Mercaz’s costs…probably because they do not get enough government funding, based on last election’s results.

I will not go so far as to make the claim that our registering to vote in this election is or should be our primary response to the horrible news of this week. On some level, it is coincidence that these two messages are sent together. On another level, though, it might be exactly right. Something we can do to shape Israeli society from our living rooms, something we can do to feel connected to what is happening there, something we can do when it feels like there is nothing to do to help. 

It is not enough. Nothing is or will be. So we will continue to do what we do best, for thousands of years: show up as Jews. Double down on our Jewish commitments, our Jewish community, our Jewish strength. May that be a salve for our wounded hearts. May that be enough to shield us and our children. May that be what we need to move forward with courage and strength.