I know, I'm a broken record, but I can't say this often enough, go down to the Otef to volunteer or just to visit a community that's come home. It makes such a difference. Maybe I'm the crazy one, but I think I would not be in the same place emotionally if I hadn't been going to the Otef almost every week and keeping tabs on how the situation is changing, talking to people on the frontlines and seeing for myself the incredible rebuilding of the region, and especially in the last year, all the people coming home, kids playing again in the playgrounds of once evacuated yishuvim.

Week by week, month by month seeing the changes, people who had been haggard ghosts in winter 2023 slowly coming back to life, smiling and hopeful in winter 2024. The picture is so much more complete when you see it up close, it takes your mind to different places than when you are mostly fed by other sources. And doing something, however small, to help means that you are not just being flooded with news stories which can leave you helpless and overwhelmed, you have a chance to make a difference (however small) where it's needed.
I was in Nahal Oz yesterday picking avocados and the kibbutznik we were working with also took us briefly around the kibbutz afterwards.

Nearly half the residents came home this summer. It's one of the kibbutzim that was badly hit, one of the last where people are starting to come home. It's going to take time, but already families with young kids have made the choice to come back, there are young people there on shnat sherut. I saw the home of Omri Miran (hostage who came back on Hoshana Raba) renovated and waiting for him if he chooses to return to the kibbutz.

The neighbourhoods that were ravaged by Hamas on 7/10 are rebuilt/restored for the most part with some ongoing repairs and work on renovating roads and infrastructure. There is an air of renewal and fresh coats of paint, a bright freshly painted mural on the hadar okhel, shiny new farm equipment and tractors replacing what Hamas and their civilian supporters burnt and stole. The fields are ploughed and freshly planted, the lawns neat, gardens bright with flowers and flags.

And yes, we could definitely still hear stuff from just over the border in Azza (this is not over yet), and there were constantly drones and quite a few booms. Tzahal still has work to do in the zones it still controls, mostly dismantling tunnels and other terror infrastructure.

There are areas here and there where you can look directly into Gaza across the border and you can see how many more of the tall buildings have been levelled, so that they don't loom over the Israeli side anymore and be used by snipers or for gathering intelligence on Israel. Definitely a lot fewer tall buildings than when I was in the area few weeks ago.

And the southern part of the now infamous Route 232 ("Death Road" as yesterday's group leader helpfully called it) is now being widened to two lanes in each direction, scorched trees on the verges cut down and covered by asphalt. 

All along the drive down posters welcoming back the hostages "כמה טוב ששבתם הביתה" and the roadsides lined with flags so that the returning hostages would see.

 I'm thrilled that the hostages are home but I feel angry that so many people are like "well that's it", as though there aren't people in the Otef, tens of thousands, hundreds of thousands, who've been living with hell for years, and there seems precious little care for what they will go through if Hamas is allowed to reset everything to October 6th.

Like they took down the big concrete barrier which overshadowed Nahal Oz, because now Hamas has been taken care of, that's what our soldiers have been doing, avodat kodesh in destroying the vipers nest Hamas built in Gaza. But what happens next?

With all the hoopla over "The Deal" I don't hear people saying well what does this mean for people living in the Otef? What does it mean for Israel in general? With Muslim Brotherhood affiliated Qatari money and Muslim Brotherhood affiliated Turkish contractors, what safeguards that Hamas (or a clone) won't just rebuild and start the whole thing over again?

Because Tzahal hasn't had a chance to do everything that needed doing. Just the other week I was in the area and a local guy pointed out to me places where they knew there were still tunnels but he wasn't sure if due to the ceasefire Tzahal would still have the chance to blow them up. Officially part of Hamas disarming is also the dismantling of their terror infrastructure, including destroying remaining terror tunnels, weapons workshops and so on.

Can we rely on whomever is supposed to be enforcing the deal that this will actually happen? What does it mean for Israel if it doesn't? It's wonderful that most of the hostages have been released, but we also need to look at the bigger picture of the war and our country's security, if all the big words are not enforced then nothing has changed and the sacrifice of our soldiers has been squandered to invite Muslim Brotherhood states like Qatar and Turkey to restore the Hamas "balance of terror" threatening Israel.

I know it sounds terrible but I meet so many people in the Otef who feel forgotten. They are desperate for all the hostages to come home, but I've met too many who've said to me that the only thing people in the merkaz seem to care about is the hostages, not whether Hamas is no longer a threat and they still have to raise their children in fortified gannim (literally fortified gannim).

No one has been marching in the streets demanding safety and security for Netiv Haasara or Nirim and if you even dare to raise concerns that are not the hostages then no one wants to hear or they accuse you of being a heartless b@!ch who doesn't care about the hostages. It makes me angry because the writing is on the wall but most people do not want to see. This deal is only as good as the enforcement of the grand promises made to guarantee Israeli security.

All of the hostages, alive and dead, were supposed to be home by now according to the deal, there are still hostage bodies held in Gaza (as far as I know), while Hamas is flexing its muscles (and guns) everywhere that the IDF has withdrawn from. This is greatly concerning. That is what is on my mind.

 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.

If it was only about the hostages, if it was always about the hostages, then the people of the Otef go back to being screwed over and the clock resets to October 6th and the countdown to the next round of Hamas atrocities and hostage taking. It can't be just about the hostages because then we would have learnt absolutely nothing and to get the freedom of the last 48 held by Hamas the nation would have accepted the return of a Hamas terrorist state in Gaza rebuilding and preparing the next assault on the Israel.

This is the niggling fear I feel today alongside the joy of seeing our live hostages return to their families. Too many Israelis say, fine, that's it, peace, it's all over and the people living on our border, the people in the Otef who've suffered so much will be forgotten again, left to their fate, as though on October 7th Hamas wasn't halfway to Beer Sheva and their death squads weren't this close to rampaging through Ashkelon. I've met too many people in the Otef who've said as much to me, it was always about the hostages and never about truly restoring safety and security to their communities.

The hostages were a clever diversionary tactic by Hamas to stop us from being able to fight effectively in areas where the hostages were held, giving Hamas extra cover and distracting Israelis from the war aims of defending the thousands and thousands of Israelis, millions really, held hostage by Hamas' rockets and terror.

Hamas is already jubilant, murdering anyone they suspect of helping Israel, restoring their iron fist terror on the people of Gaza and with Qatari money and Turkish construction companies help, officially sanctioned by this deal, they pledge to rebuild their tunnels and bases and terror machine. It's like on the day Gilad Shalit was released, Israelis were euphoric with hope and relief but the other side was celebrating with gunfire the return of unrepentant terrorists, like Sinwar, already planning how to use their new freedom to kill more Israelis.

I know today is supposed to be all about joy, people are very angry at me for saying these things but I spend so much time in the Otef that I can't not see this bigger picture and all the red flags. The fear is that like Ahashverosh in the Purim story people will say well that's that then, all over, war aim accomplished, nothing to see here. And the people of the Otef will be screwed over again and Hamas, already striving to reassert its iron hold on Gaza, will be left to rebuilt and rearm (Qatari money, Turkish construction companies) counting down to the next Oct 7, the next round of hostage taking, the next invasion of Israel.

As though two years ago the Nuhba death squads weren't halfway to Beer Sheva and this close to rampaging through Ashkelon. The fact that Israel capitulated in the end to negotiating with Hamas, to freeing murderers, to giving hostile, Muslim Brotherhood affiliated states like Qatar and Turkey key roles in supposedly creating a future peaceful settlement in the region is very concerning and in Hamas quarters is seen as victory.

And yes, I'm beyond grateful to Hashem that the live hostages have been released, but I'm also beyond concerned that people are so glad they will forget the dead hostages still being held and worse, forget that Hamas and friends still want to finish the job they started on Oct 7 2023.

So yes, we can celebrate today but it has to be with the understanding that this isn't the end of the story and even if this deal creates some kind of ceasefire for now, Israel can't relax its guard, must remain vigilant against the multiple threats still looming, or else we are back to the Oct 6 mentality.

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

You are 16 years old and you have a big important exam tomorrow. You know that nerves will make it hard to sleep so you carefully plan your evening, light supper, some light revision with your books just to set your mind at ease, a little gentle exercise with music to help you relax and an early bedtime so you'll hopefully wake up refreshed and focused, ready for the big day.

And then at 1am the blasted Houthi thugs in Yemen launch yet another ballistic missile at Israel and you along with millions of other Israelis are jarringly jolted awake by the alarming staccato of the pre-siren alert (because the missile is coming all the way from Yemen there is more advanced warning that it's on the way).

Half asleep but thoroughly discombobulated you pile into the small home shelter with your family, groggy little ones vaguely grumbling in their sleep about not having enough space as they try to snuggle up with their blankets and cuddly animals. The gawky mid-teen awkwardly trying to find space for his newly longer rangy frame, all the while plugged in reassuringly to his headphones and technology podcast that during these middle of the night alerts offer comfort. While trying to get comfortable he accidentally steps on his older sister who is herself trying to curl up with her pillow and her phone.

When it's all over a sleepy little voice somewhere in the darkness asks "Imma, how did I get here?" and briefly climbs into my lap for a hug. Honestly I can't remember this time, did he sleepwalk in here as usually does when the siren goes or did DH go get him when the pre-alert went or was it one of the big kids? It's all such a blur I can't even recall. The point is that everyone even in the depth of deep sleep is by now so totally used to the expectation of being woken by a siren that they often as not don't even really wake up and can often turn up in the shelter with their eyes still closed, walking over on autopilot. Even dreams are not a safe haven from the reality of missiles.

By Israeli standards there is nothing exceptional about this scene, by now we've all done it so often we really can pretty much do it in our sleep. And we are so much luckier than the many other Israelis who live in older buildings without family shelters so that when the siren goes they have to run to the basement communal shelter with everyone in their building in their PJs, or outside to a public neighbourhood shelter or if there isn't time then just to the stairwell which offers somewhat better protection than other areas.

This should not be "normal".