By Rabbi Lana Zilberman Soloway

In the reality after October 7th,
To be Israeli outside of Israel is to pretend that “everything is ok,” when your mind and heart are always in a state of war.
Every single cell in my body is constantly stressed and afraid of what is coming.
Day after day, the numbers go up, as the hole in my heart grows bigger.  

To be Israeli outside of Israel is wanting to scream but remain silent.
When people ask me: “How are you?”
I answer: “I am like my people are,”
And when the next question arrives: “Is your family ok?”
I say: “No one is.” 

To be Israeli outside of Israel is to hold your breath and to suffocate from tears every single day.
It’s to be deeply moved by any stranger who shows support, love and care,
Smiling at me with good eyes and asking: “How are you?”.

It’s checking the news every hour and trying to stay up to date in real time,
It’s to live a double life,
Two completely different realities,
The trees around me are forever green,
The sun is always shining
People are smiling
But my home is in real danger,
So nothing feels alright.

To be an Israeli outside of Israel is feeling like I am sitting a long continuous Shiva.
It’s wanting to help, to do something, to be meaningful and impactful.
To receive hundreds of daily messages, being part of many support groups, and
To be heartbroken when people you thought to be your friends are turning against you. 

To be Israeli outside of Israel is to know that there is a war
But also to realize that when you are far away it feels so different, painful, lonely.

To be Israeli outside of Israel is to let my Israeli siblings know that I am with them, scared, hopeful, that we are all in this together, even when we are physically apart and far away.

 

***

 

My dear Or Ami community,

 

To be one of your rabbis for this past year was one of the most beautiful blessings of my life. At the same time, to be Israeli was one of the most difficult challenges I ever needed to face.

There is an old saying: life happens when you plan it. October 7th and everything that followed in Israel, here in the US, and in the rest of the world was not in any of our plans, and yet here we are, living in one of the darkest times that our people have ever experienced. No one is safe from Jewhatred, violence, and antisemitism. 

Being your Rabbi and actively searching for hope during these past eight and a half months has given me more strength than I can ever put into words. Our Or Ami community is truly a bright light in my life. It is the eternal light, the Ner Tamid we just read about in last week’s Torah portion. It is the torch, the shining light that kindles all the smaller lights and keeps the world going.

 It is time for me to go home for a few weeks and rekindle my own light so I will be able to come back and bring even more hope, better understanding, and stronger love for our people and for the state of Israel. I have a lot of people to hug and many rallies to attend. I am excited to be reunited with close friends and family and at the same time my heart is overflowing with gratitude for our Or Ami community and for every single one of you.

I can’t wait to share my experiences with you when I return in the second half of July. May we all have a wonderful, healthy, peaceful summer, and may we hear good news. 

 

L’hitraot (See you soon),

 

Rabbi Lana