Today is Hoshana Rabba, the last day of Sukkot. According to Jewish tradition the date when God makes His final decision on how we will be judged for the coming year. The final date for appeals as it were for the verdicts reached on Rosh Hashanah (the Day of Judgement) and Yom Kippur (the Day of Atonement).

For traditional Jews the return of our twenty live hostages on this date is highly symbolic in so many ways. A sign that maybe God has received our fervent prayers for them to come home to their loved ones alive. A closing of the circle that started on Simhat Torah (the day after Hoshana Rabba) two years ago when our country was invaded and they were kidnapped.

And so we say farewell to the sukkah for another year.

And what a strange Sukkot it has been, between the commandment to be joyous on Sukkot, our nation collectively holding its breath over whether Hamas really would free the hostages and whether this peace deal would really happen, the agonising two year anniversary of the brutal Hamas invasion and gratitude for the miracles and rebirth we have witnessed in the wake of the barbaric Hamas attacks.

When I was a child I had a Shlomo Carlebach record I loved to listen to which included "The Song of Shabbes". As a child I used to ponder its meaning, listening to it over and over: we were slaves in Egypt but we sang the song of Shabbes, we saw the Holy Temple destroyed but we sang the song of Shabbes, the Romans sold us as slaves but we sang the song of Shabbes, we saw 6 million Jews murdered but we sang the song of Shabbes". What was this song of Shabbes that we kept on singing no matter what, no matter why?

Only in my late teens did I start to understand the concept, the symbol of Shabbat, Jewish heritage and tradition, our holidays, our Hebrew language, our culture and our beliefs which we held onto no matter the horrors our people suffered. Stripped of everything, even our homeland, we clung to the heritage that we could keep in our hearts, no matter where we were exiled, no matter how harsh our circumstances. Even in the death camps of Europe and being torched alive by the Inquisition our people continued to "sing the song of Shabbes" in whatever way they could, holding on to our eternal peoplehood so that a future generation would see a new day and let us thrive once again.

Finding joy in these last two years has often been that "singing the song of Shabbes" for so many Israelis. This Sukkot, coinciding as it did with the secular October 7th anniversary was difficult for so many Israelis and Jews around the world, but still they were joyous and celebrated life, our people's life, our survival, how despite the terrible pain we have persevered and beaten back enemies who wanted us dead and our heritage erased.

And this year perhaps on Simhat Torah we can shine brighter and celebrate with a fuller heart, knowing our living hostages are home and twenty more families can hopefully start to find comfort. Knowing that maybe, just maybe, there is finally some kind of peace deal that can bring hope, life and joy to our entire region.

We're still waiting to see if Hamas will truly honour the deal, if they will hand over the 24 dead Israeli hostages they are still holding, if they will disarm and clear the way for a new future for a peaceful Gaza. This deal will only work if it is truly enforced.

Maybe this Hoshana Raba there is hope that we will yet witness a new day in the Middle East, and even if it still looks uncertain, and even if we don't yet know that the war is really over, there is hope for finding a new way that wasn't there yesterday. Tonight, the eve of Simhat Torah we will dance again with a new song in our hearts.

Refael Fahimi, 63, Netanel Maskalchi, 36 and Refael Meir Maskalchi, 12

The massive barrage of thousands of rockets fired by Hamas into Israel starting at 0629 on the morning of October 7 2023 was meant to be cover for the Hamas invasion, a distraction to keep Israelis confined to their shelters or otherwise seeking cover, easy targets for the marauding Hamas gunmen. The rockets were also cover for the Hamas destruction of the border fence, border cameras, sensors and other defensive measures on the Israeli side meant to prevent terrorist incursions into Israel.

So intense was the Hamas rocket fire that in mere minutes the Iron Dome anti-missile defense batteries ran out of ammunition. I heard from so many local Otef residents how the day started with the thud-explosion of interceptions, Iron Dome batteries valiantly trying to intercept the Hamas rockets, and then within minutes the sound changed to the thud thud thud of rockets striking Israel, having overpowered Iron Dome with the sheer intensity of the Hamas rocket barrage, over 3,500 fired on that first day.

With thousands of Hamas terrorists ambushing anything that moved on the roads and many forward bases either under siege, overrun or desperately fighting off the invaders, it was difficult for Iron Dome batteries to get fresh ammunition to continue fending off the Hamas rocket onslaught. At least one Iron Dome commander was killed by Hamas as she desperately took a jeep and attempted to make a dash for a nearby base to resupply her battery.

There was massive damage across the region, but one of the worst rocket strikes was on a house in the Otef town of Netivot, where three generations of one family were killed in their home by a Hamas rocket. Their story gets lost in the hundreds and hundreds of horrific stories of that day, but it brings home the many layers of Hamas terror unleashed upon Israeli civilians on October 7, just how many were murdered in their own homes, even in towns like Netivot which successfully held off the Hamas invasion but were still pummeled with deadly rockets.

Refael Fahimi, 63, Netanel Maskalchi, 36 and Refael Meir Maskalchi, 12, a grandfather, son-in-law and grandson had rushed home from the Simhat Torah prayer service at their synagogue on the morning of October 7th 2023 when a Hamas rocket hit their home, killing all three of them. Young Refael Meir was just a few weeks away from celebrating his bar mitzva.

Fahimi was the father-in-law of Netanel and the grandfather of young Refael Meir.

In one instant, Chana Maskalchi lost her father, her husband and her son. 

Being human

Mr Rogers said to look for the helpers, Kalonimus Kalman Szapiro, the rabbi of Piaseczno in pre-war Poland and the rabbi of the Warsaw Ghetto, said be the helper, take your own sorrow and troubles and use that negative energy to help someone else.

As we approach the two year anniversary of October 7th I feel more than ever that this is the story of Israel in the wake of this horrific pogrom invasion.

Yesterday a volunteer group leader stood up at the end of the morning's work and quoted the famous quote from Rabbi Hillel in Pirkei Avot "In a place where there are no men, strive to be a man" in reference to the way Israel has literally pulled itself up from the roots up, reborn from the depths of grief and pain by the common people who rose up and did what had to be done to repulse the Hamas invasion and the subsequent assaults on Israel from all sides, from the soldiers to the medics to the farmers to the most ordinary of people who found ways to help, feed, clothe, rebuild, drive and simply comfort.

Some say that it's a critique on the leadership, if there is no one to "be the man" then you must try to take on the role. But I see it differently, in a time of confusion and chaos and more than anything profound shock, don't wait for someone to come and take charge, to tell you what to do, be cognisant of the needs around you and do what you can, if it's feeding people or offering a kind word or jumping in your car to get people to safety or just calling on the elderly and mentally ill to make sure they are OK in turbulent, dangerous times.

More than anything this is what Israel exemplifies. How ironic that our people is so hated, excoriated and vilified today when more than anything our ethos teaches us to be the change for good in the world, to rescue, to help, to care for those in need, to be the first to help at home and abroad in times of natural disaster and tragedy, to run to offer assistance when everyone should rationally run from the danger. This is the ethos Israelis are raised on and which is ingrained in our culture. And it is the ethos which has enabled our nation to survive the attack of October 7th after millennia past of persecution and suffering.

Erev Yom Kippur a couple of the groups I volunteer with went down to a small religious moshav in southern Israel to help pack aravot (willow branches) for use the upcoming Sukkot holiday.

We were the usual very mixed group: a retired Hebrew grammar teacher and a paramedic who used to be the medic for one of Israel's leading football teams. A secular tour operator who's son and daughter-in-law miraculously survived the Nova massacre and a few hesder yeshiva students who were volunteering to honour the memory of so many fallen fellow hesdernikim. A retired Egged bus driver (who happily spent the time chatting to a current private bus driver as the two of them packed aravot). A retired biologist on the cusp of turning 90 and a young woman who's just made aliya and moved to a nearby kibbutz. The two bus drivers driving the volunteer mini-buses - one Jewish, a former kibbutznik now living in a big city, the other Muslim Arab. Religious Jews and secular Jews, non-Jews.

All volunteering their time to help a farmer pack his aravot for Sukkot. Because this is Israel, and as much as it can be a chaotic, turbulent place, it is also a nation with an incredibly high degree of mutual responsibility for one another, communal care, volunteering, charity and helping out neighbours. Not because we are perfect, but because as a nation we are doing our best to do better.

The work took place in a covered workspace behind the farmer's house, our groups working close together around tables, an atmosphere conducive to conversation. As we trimmed the branches to size, inspected them for imperfections and packed them in protective sleeves the farmer talked words of Torah, words of thanks and most of all uplifting words about Am Yisrael.

The significance of the well known explanation for the Four Species, the lulav (date palm) which has taste but not smell, the hadas (willow) which has smell but not taste, the etrog (citron) which has both taste and smell and the lowly aravot (willow) which has neither taste nor smell, but without whom the ritual Four Species are not complete.

In Jewish tradition they represent the purpose and need for every member of the Jewish people, those who have Torah learning but lack good deeds, those who do good but do not learn Torah, those who have both, those who have neither. A message of unity, but also a message of understanding for the complexity of any society, but especially our diverse society.

On Yom Kippur we pray together, as a community. As part of our communal prayers we together speak out loud the sins and transgressions of our entire people, anything anyone might have done. As a community we say out loud, we are permitted to pray with sinners, with transgressors.

Just like the Four Species that are part of our Sukkot ritual, so on Yom Kippur we emphasise community, all the different types of people, those who have done good, those who have not, but who are all still part of our nation and our congregation. And we pray together in public, not necessarily knowing who is who, what sins people may have committed or what incredible acts of kindness they may have done. We don't really know if the person praying next to us is Lamad Vavnik, one of the supremely righteous, or an evil person at heart. All we know is we are all part of the same people, standing together before our Creator, and He alone knows what is in our hearts, and He alone is the perfect being.

On October 7th Hamas showed as the depths of evil to which humanity is capable of sinking. But so many other people, Israelis of many ethnicities and faiths, and indeed people from all around the world, showed us the heights of kindness, courage and selflessness of which humanity is capable.

None of us is perfect, but in a place where there are no men, in a place in which Hamas has shown us such inhumanity, Rabbi Hillel tells us to strive to be human, to rise to the occasion instead of being dragged down.

This is my Israel, this is the Israel I see every day, soldiers and civilians, people with moral backbone and great care for their fellow humanity, striving for good.

Please God this Yom Kippur may these great merits of our people outweigh our failings and may Hashem judge us all for the Book of Life, for peace, for the safe return of all those who are missing, for the health and safety of all our soldiers, for the peace, wellbeing and happiness for all in our troubled region.

Gmar Hatima Tova