October 7, 2026
This piece appeared in The Times of Israel.
I was so hopeful about Israel’s future just hours before the nightmare of October 7.
I was at a Shabbat dinner in Abu Dhabi, at a table alongside Emiratis, Americans, and Israelis, discussing the promise of normalization and prospects for peace, toasting to our hopes for a brighter future ahead. It was an evening of infectious optimism and belief.
By morning, everything changed. We watched in horror as Hamas carried out the deadliest attack against the Jews since the Holocaust.
I also remember the feeling I had just days later: profound unity, even in the face of unprecedented tragedy. The global Jewish community mobilized, living up to the call of “Kol Yisrael arevim ze le zah, we are all responsible for one another,” raising money to support Israeli communities devastated by the attacks, leading emergency missions of volunteers to Israel, bringing supplies for soldiers, marching in support of Israel and the hostages. A palpable feeling emerged of a shared mission, coming together as a Jewish community to defend our people, bring the hostages home, and look ahead to an eventual long-term path forward, knowing the dynamics in the Middle East had forever changed.
Three years later, the path forward has become harder to see. The promise and optimism we felt that evening gave way to war, loss, and a global surge of antisemitism. The horrors of that day were forgotten, excused, justified, or even denied by too many. The conflict became about slogans, social media campaigns, and political battles that obscured the truth. The promise of that evening in Abu Dhabi felt farther away than ever.
But what most concerns me on this third anniversary of October 7 is what has happened among the Jewish community. In the days immediately following the attacks, we experienced a profound sense of shared purpose. We felt connected to one another in ways most of us had never experienced before. We understood that October 7 was not only an attack on Israel, but an attack on Jewish life itself. We raised funds, organized missions, delivered supplies, cared for traumatized communities, stood up for Israel, and fought for the release of the hostages. Sustaining that feeling has become more difficult.
We know the Jewish people have differences across generations, denominations, countries, and politics. Those differences are real, and they matter. But with the challenges we still face, we can’t afford to allow our differences to define us.
So this anniversary cannot simply be a day of remembrance. It must also be a call to reclaim something we found immediately after the horrors of 10/7. When we refused to allow others to write our story for us. When we marched arm in arm for loved ones we’d lost, and hostages we were desperate to bring home.
Beyond what we’re battling against, let’s allow this day to remind us what we’re fighting for: flourishing Jewish life, a secure Israel, the eradication of Hamas, and an enduring peace in the Middle East that returns hope to a region that has known too much tragedy.
The challenges before us are real. But so is our capacity to meet them, if we do so united.
That is my hope on this anniversary: not that we think alike, but that we remember what binds us together. Not that we erase our differences, but that we refuse to let them define us. And that Jews everywhere remember the shared purpose that drew us together in the days after our darkest moments.
The future we toasted to in Abu Dhabi is still worth fighting for.
