As IDF soldiers leave Gaza after two years of war, I want to share today’s column by @MakorRishon editor @KalmanLiebskind, who so beautifully captured what many in the Jewish state are feeling today.
“The coming days will be days of great joy and of deep concern,” he wrote. “But alongside all of this, and perhaps before all of this, it is fitting for each of us to… bow our heads and offer our profound thanks to those to whom everything we hold dear is owed.
To the soldiers who left behind a wife and children at home, a livelihood and a routine, and charged into the fire simply because the country called. To the reservists who were called time and again and reported to duty without asking questions, simply because it had to be done.
To the ‘old hands’ in their forties, fifties and beyond, who had forgotten when the army last called them, but who, confronted with the pictures of their slaughtered brothers and sisters, put on their uniforms, went south, and said, ‘Here I am.’
To the heroic women, the invisible soldiers, who moved among us in their multitudes as civilians and carried this war on their shoulders. To the children who wet their beds at night when they saw their father packing the big bag again and asked, ‘Again?’ and ‘How long?’ and ‘Until when?’ and received no answer.
To the many wounded who returned from the battlefield with lost limbs and shattered minds — for whom the war will not end even when the rest of us move on to the next hot story in the news. To the bereaved families from the city and the village, from the settlement and kibbutz, religious and secular, supporters of reform and its opponents.
To the people of Karnei Shomron who went again and again to the military cemetery to add another son to the heroes’ plot, and to the farmers of Tzofar in the Aravah who, in this war, said goodbye to Gali, Roy and Ido — three members of one small group.
Our thanks are to you; our admiration is for you; our hearts are with you on this day. You gave us everything you were able to give. You commanded us to be worthy of you. Without you we would not have come this far. A moment after the horror of Simchat Torah, you were our silver platter. You were the reminder that even after brawls, quarrels and the strife of brother against brother that preceded that dreadful day, our hope had not yet been lost.
So alongside the joy that will burst out here, let us not for a moment forget those who went to the battlefield to destroy the enemy and bring our people home.
Let us go to the parents of Shoham Menachem from Moshav Yardena, lay a comforting hand on the heads of the daughters of Guy Idan from Kibbutz Shomrat, offer a word of consolation to the widow of Ehsan Daxa from Daliyat al‑Karmel, bow our heads before the family of Roy Beit Yaakov from Eli, salute the brother and sister of Ido Ovadia from Tel Aviv.
We, who believe in this country and are convinced it will be ever better and better, remember that for this group there will always be a golden share in all that will blossom and grow here, in our good land.”
So if I understood correctly, Hamas is currently debating whether to accept the proposal to stop the genocide in Gaza, and it’s still not certain they’ll agree?
Some points regarding the overnight Iranian missile attack on Israel:
1. Contrary to what pundits are saying, this wasn’t designed merely as “bells and whistles” with no damage.
When you shoot 350 flying objects timed to hit Israel at the same moment,
when you use three fundamentally different weapon types—cruise missiles, ballistic missiles and UAVs,
you’re looking to penetrate Israel’s defenses and kill Israelis.
2. The US administration is telling us: “This is a victory, you’ve already won by thwarting the missiles.
No need for any further action.”
No, it’s NOT a victory.
Yes, it’s a remarkable success of Israel’s air defense systems, but it’s not a victory.
When a bully tries to hit you 350 times and only succeeds seven time, you’ve NOT won.
You don’t win wars just by intercepting your enemy’s hits, nor do you deter it.
Your enemy will just try harder with more and better weapons and methods next time.
How DO you deter?
By exacting a deeply painful price.
3. It’s incorrect to say “nobody got hurt”.
There’s a 7 year-old Israeli-Arab girl called Amina Elhasuny fighting for her life.
That’s who coward Khamenei hit.
4. The Islamic Republic of Iran made a big mistake.
For the past 30 years it’s been wreaking havoc on the region—through its proxies.
A terror-octopus whose head is Tehran, and its tentacles are in Lebanon, Yemen, Iraq, Syria and Gaza.
How convenient.
The Mullahs send others to conduct horrendous terror attacks, and die for them.
Other people’s blood.
Israel’s strategic mistake for the past 30 years was to play along this strategy.
We always fought the Octopus’ arms, but hardly exacted a price from its Iranian head.
This should change now:
Hezbollah or Hamas shoots a rocket at Israel?
Tehran pays a price.
5. The enemy is the Iranian REGIME, not the wonderful Iranian people.
The Iranian regime reminds me of the Soviet regime in 1985: corrupt to the core, old, incompetent, despised by its own people, and destined to collapse.
The sooner the better.
The West can accelerate the regime’s inevitable collapse with a set of soft and clever actions, short of military force.
Remember, USSR collapsed without any need for a direct American attack.
Let’s do this.
6. Israel is fighting everybody’s war. In Gaza, Lebanon and Tehran.
We’re considered “the small satan” by radical Islam. America is the big one.
I’ll be clear: if these crazy fanatic Islamic terrorists get away with murder by hiding among civilians, this method will be adopted by terrorists worldwide.
We’re not asking anyone to fight for us. We’ll do the job.
But we do expect our allies to have our back, especially when it’s tough—and now it’s tough.
Be on the right side and help us defeat these horrible and savage regimes.
150 days. The world keeps turning, life goes on, but not for us. 150 sleepless nights. 150 agonizing days asking when will we see Omri again?
We will never ever give up. Please scream with us, so that Omri and 133 hostages won’t be forgotten.
Hi everybody,
My name is Ronnie Miran-Lavi. I am two and a half years old and until October 7th i have lived in Kibbutz Nahal oz in the north of Israel.
My dad is very famous, so I’m sure you know him. His face is on many billboards and in photos. It’s strange because even though he’s famous, he’s only shown in photos. He’s not home with us. Every night, I have to shout “good night” to him because it is the only way he can hear us.
Since my dad became famous, my mom travels a lot and attends many meetings but never comes back happy. Sometimes, when she’s not paying attention, I see her crying.
I really want my dad to become anonymous again and be with me, my sister Alma, and mommy, smiling at home. I have one wish to ask you you: please take his photo and share it wherever you can. Remind everyone that I’m truly waiting for my dad and want him to be back home very soon.
Thank you, Ronnie
#BringThemHomeNow
Thank you @CNN for giving me space to speak to Omri. Maybe he will see this:
Dear Omri, my Omri,
Alma began crawling soon after you were taken from us. She now sits and stands as well and tries to eat on her own. She smiles and reaches for the space you once occupied as if trying to grasp a memory that slips through her tiny fingers.
I wonder, will you be free to see her walk for the first time?
I have been writing daily to you, myself and the world. Writing about our pain, our agony, our despair. I hope that you’ll return to Roni, Alma and me.
We heard that one of the released hostages told you we survived October 7 against all odds; we were rescued from the house of horrors that saw the death of loved ones, our hours-long abuse and your violent abduction.
We hope that news is true. We hope that the knowledge we are here waiting for you helps you persevere through your captivity, just as the hope of your return is what helps me persevere.
I think of Penelope’s words about Odysseus: “How I long for my husband – alive in memory, always.”
Roni has been both a beacon of light and a mirror reflecting the pain in my heart. She speaks so much now, my love, with a wisdom that transcends her years.
Her words are bittersweet, a constant reminder of your absence. She asks every night where you are, why you are still lost. She speaks of the bad people who took you away in front of our eyes. She draws you every day. And her smile reminds me of you.
Her eyes search mine for reassurance, and I try to give her the certainty she craves. But real comfort can only come when you are returned to us.
Roni’s resilience is both inspiring and heartbreaking. She found hope when Mojo, your dog, returned injured but wagging his tail. He too longs to see you!
Alma is too young to understand what is happening; her laughter echoes through the hall of our temporary housing in Kibbutz Kramim. It’s a haunting reminder of the joy that once permeated our home.
Yes, I forgot to say. We are no longer in Nahal Oz. There’s no more Nahal Oz, at least not in the way we remember it, and at least not until this painful war ends.
The Nahal Oz community and spirit, however, live on through us, the survivors who are rallying in support of each other and fighting for your and (fellow hostage) Tsaci Idan’s release.
We also found a community and support system in Kramim, people who care and love us and give us the strength to wake up every morning and work for your release.
Your friends visit, supporting and loving us more than I could have wished.
The last time we saw each other, I told you that I love you, that I’ll care for the girls, and that you should not try to be a hero. You told me that you love me, and then Roni tried to run to you. Thankfully, I managed to stop her in time.
Your captivity, with all its unknowns, has been all-encompassing. Are you injured? Do you eat? Do you need any medication? Are you being tortured or abused?
The not-knowing is a torment that wraps around my heart and squeezes it.
Some of those who returned from captivity shared their horrifying stories; others might share more in the coming days and weeks.
But for now, parts of the world seem to have turned their backs on us – and most of all, on you – in our most difficult time. The United Nations, the International Committee of the Red Cross, some of those we viewed as friends and allies.
The international community’s corridors of power and palaces of justice resonate with a silence that is deafening. Meanwhile streets and public spaces around the world have become places of hateful discourse; extending the violence of October 7 with people ripping down posters bearing your name, your photo, your story. Leaving me with a sense of abandonment that cuts deep.
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@pepemac27 I remember this journey and your experience so clearly , speaking to your mum and gran for updates and then the amazing welcome back in the BM in Hasmo! Thanks Gd for miracles hope you’re keeping well mate x