Since October 7, the Israeli people, Jews and non-Jews alike, and the Jewish people worldwide have carried names in our hearts. Ran Gvili was one of them. Knowing that he was the last Israeli hostage in Gaza, and that he was not alive, was heartbreaking. But even in death, one truth bound an entire nation together: we could not allow him to remain alone in enemy land. As Jews, as Israelis, as one people, we do not abandon our own. Dead or alive, our children come home.
When the prophet Jeremiah says, “Restrain your voice from weeping, your eyes from shedding tears; for there is a reward for your labor — declares G-d: they shall return from the enemy’s land. And there is hope for your future — declares G-d: your children shall return to their country,” he is not denying our tears. He is sanctifying them. For generations, this verse spoke to Jews scattered in exile, clinging to hope. Today, it speaks with a different voice, not of helplessness, but of resolve. Of a people who act. Of a people who bring their sons and daughters home. The return of Ran Gvili was not only an act of recovery. It was a declaration of Jewish values, human values made real.
The Land of Israel is not merely geography. It is the soul of the Jewish people and the foundation of Judaism itself. It is where Jewish history breathes, where Jewish life is defended, and where Jewish responsibility takes physical form. Bringing Jews home to Israel, soldiers and civilians, living and fallen, is not a political act. It is a moral one. It is who we are.
I feel compelled to write this not only as a Jew, but as an IDF veteran. During my service, it was instilled in me that we never leave a soldier behind. That principle does not expire with a uniform. I have carried the weight of responsibility for others’ lives, and I never feared being left behind myself, because I knew with certainty that, dead or alive, I would return home. That certainty lives in my body. It is spiritual, emotional, and physical. The land of Israel is not an abstraction to me; it is woven into my identity, my memory, and my sense of duty.
The strength of the IDF, a people’s army, has never been only about military might. It is about mutual responsibility. Our soldiers are not anonymous figures. They are our children, siblings, neighbors, and friends. Family. Pride, in moments like these, aches and it should. Because it is born from love, loss, and loyalty. Despite the devastation and failures of October 7, our values endured. Ran is home. Others are home. And that matters.
This is why the time to go to Israel is now. This year, the Jewish Federation mission takes place during Yom HaShoah, Yom HaZikaron, and Yom HaAtzmaut the most emotionally powerful days in the modern Jewish calendar. These days form one unbroken arc: memory, mourning, and rebirth. To experience them in Israel is to stand inside Jewish history as it unfolds, to remember those we lost, to honor those who fell defending Israel, and to celebrate the miracle of Jewish sovereignty that came at an unbearable cost.
Going to Israel now is a statement. In the face of unprecedented challenges. In the face of rising antisemitism. In the face of those who question our right to exist. Ein Li Eretz Acheret — we have no other land. To show up is to affirm that truth. To walk this land is to strengthen our shared destiny. To be present is to say, clearly and unapologetically: we belong to each other, and we belong here.
If we want to honor Ran Gvili, the fallen soldiers, and the civilians, Jews and non-Jews who gave their lives so that Israel survives, then we cannot retreat into distance or silence. We must show up. Together. In Israel. United, remembering the cost and carrying the responsibility forward.
In this moment, the most powerful Jewish statement we can make is simple and unbreakable: we show up, together, in Israel.
Register for Federation’s Mission to Israel today. REGISTER