Rebbetzen Tziporah

 Dear friends,

I just heard the siren and decided it was time to write. Tonight, on Yom HaZikaron, we find ourselves in the middle of a war that still has no clear end. We’ve lost so much, and we’re still waiting—for every hostage to come home, for Hamas to finally fall, for their leaders to somehow see what they have done to their own people in their hatred of us and our people. But in the midst of it all, one thing has become clear: Hashem is with us.

I saw a short video of a survivor from the Nova music festival. He described how, at 6:50 a.m., the sky suddenly lit up with rockets. No one knew where to run. He got into his car and realized—he didn’t even know which way to drive. And in thatmoment, he prayed. Because sometimes, the only direction we have is up.

We’ve all had moments like that—maybe not with rockets overhead, but with a sense of helplessness, of being lost. The difference is what we do with that moment. The soldiers who gave their lives did so because they knew this was where they needed to be. They turned toward danger because they believed in something greater than themselves.

We’ve seen miracles in the past months—miracles of survival, of courage, of unity. But maybe the greatest miracle is the one we so often forget: that we are here. That we were brought back to this land not by our own power, but by Hashem’s. Only He could return us to Eretz Yisrael and, at the same time, hold us together through decades of war, terror, and uncertainty. That kind of kindness is beyond our understanding—but it’s real. And it demands something from us. Each of us has a different set of choices in front of us. We don’t get to choose our circumstances. But we do get to choose what we do with them. That’s how we’re measured—not by what we were handed, but by how we respond.

Pirkei Avot teaches that a wise person sees et hanolad—usually translated as “what is born,” or future consequences. But there's another layer: a wise person sees the One who gives birth to all of reality. Living with that awareness changes everything. It fills life with awe, with love, with meaning. It makes us truly alive.

The souls of Am Yisrael are deeply connected—like one body, one heart. Whether someone was dancing at a music festival, sitting in a beit midrash, fighting on the front lines, or simply davening at home—our destinies are tied together. Now is a time for tefillah, for tzedakah, for reflection. For gratitude and hope. Let’s use this time to ask ourselves: Where are my choices leading me? What am I doing with the life and the moment I’ve been given?

May we continue to feel Hashem’s presence, even when the road is uncertain. And may we rise to the moment with strength, love, and deep connection to one another.

Love,

Tziporah