As we approach Yom HaZikaron and Yom HaAtzmaut—Israel’s Independence Day, the country’s 78th birthday—I find myself reflecting.

This piece was prompted by a WhatsApp exchange, and by stories of people leaving Israel, alongside a growing narrative of inevitable decline.

The WhatsApp exchange, shared between a small group of former IDF soldiers, many of whom still serve in the Reserves, presented a bleak prediction: Israel and Lebanon would agree to a ceasefire; Hezbollah would nominally disarm; politicians would claim success on the eve of elections; and then, inevitably, the disarmament would fail. A few years later, we would find ourselves back in Lebanon. The same cycle would repeat in Gaza. Soldiers, the message suggested, were being used as pieces on a political chessboard.

The first message ended with a personal note: appreciation for Reserve Service, coupled with a call to reconsider it. No politician, the message argued, would stand in their place. Why, then, should they continue to put their lives on the line?

A member of the group responded: “I will continue to report for Reserve Duty”, he wrote “not out of faith in the system, but out of loyalty to the people beside me.”

His team members had a tendency to get themselves into dangerous situations. He would be there to protect them. “We have the privilege of doing important things, finding ourselves in dangerous situations where our friends really need us. Therefore, we can’t quit. All we can do is our best, and hope that our actions will have a real effect on the country.”

The WhatsApp exchange ended with “We will do what we can until it ends—one way or another—or until we leave the country.”

There is, in this exchange, something deeply admirable—and deeply troubling.

Over time, through many similar conversations, I have come to recognize a pattern: it unfolds in two stages.

In the first stage, talented, idealistic individuals take on more and more responsibility. They do not wait to be asked. They do not measure their contribution against what others are doing. They simply step forward and shoulder as much as they can, driven by a belief that their effort might be enough to make a difference—to steady the system, to “right the ship, turn the tide.” They give everything they have.

In the second stage, something internal shifts. The tide does not turn. The burden remains uneven. They begin to feel alone, or worse, taken for granted, and lose faith in the ability to bring about change. At some point—quietly, without drama—they shrug their shoulders and step back. Not out of cynicism, but out of exhaustion. Not because they no longer care, but because they feel they cannot carry the weight alone and can no longer envision the tide turning.

And when they step back, something is lost.

These wonderful people need something to hope for on this Independence Day, something to carry into the 79th and 80th Independence Days. They also need to feel they are not alone in trying to right the ship.

Independence Day, like a birthday, invites reflection. It ask us to look back on the year that has passed, but also to look forward to the year to come.

This year, that forward-looking question feels more urgent than usual. What kind of country will we celebrate on Israel’s 79th Independence Day? And what will we hope to celebrate on its 80th? Will we be any better off than we are today?

When I step back from everyday life and try to envision the positive future awaiting Israel in the coming years, I encounter so many arguments pointing to inevitable decline.

Antisemitism is spreading at an alarming rate.

The extremists cannot be curtailed and will never be subdued.

The demographics will eventually overtake us.

There is no realistic resolution to the conflict, there is no clear path to peace or to a better future for our children.

So why struggle? What is the point?

Kohelet writes: “I observed all the happenings beneath the sun, and I found that all is futile… A twisted thing that cannot be made straight, a lack that cannot be made good.”[1]

Eventually, says Kohelet, we will all have to accept reality, stop struggling alone against it, and walk away.

This Yom HaAtzmaut we need to respond to the pervasive pessimism. We have to provide hope to those holding the line alone, so that they won’t give up.

The Late Rabbi Jonathan Sacks identified the positive takeaways in Kohelet, to counter its premise that all effort is futile. Rabbi Sacks argued that Kohelet ultimately points to what gives life meaning—what it calls “Joy”. Life is full of meaning when we live it in relationships, undertake responsibility, and live in the present moment.[2]

You cannot stop the river flowing to the sea (to quote Kohelet), but you can take the water you need from it.

Life forces us to face challenges, but there is something to take from each encounter. Each challenge can either reinforce the case of our inevitable decline, or provide an opportunity to offer a counter-narrative based on our personal interactions, our relationships and the assumption of responsibilities we choose to take on.

Antisemitism is spreading, but the people we manage to sit down with are open to listen, collaborate and show respect.

Extremists cannot be curtailed and will never be subdued, but they have been pushed back. We may never be able to bring about “total victory” in our wars, but judging battle by battle, we seem to be winning.

We may be forced to put our lives on hold again for another round of Reserve Duty, but when we are summoned we can choose to answer the calling for the reasons that matter to us.

So how do we encourage people losing hope, feeling lost, full of visions of inevitable decline that are beyond their control?

Meet with them and share a vision of a better future, one built through the small differences we make in each of our interactions. Find the people who care, and show them that you are willing to stand with them. Show them that you are ready to engage with the arguments of decline, and to encourage others to continue and persevere despite the arguments.

It is Independence Day number 78. Writing today I want to focus on the year ahead.

Dream of what the coming year can bring – and the actions that we and those around us can take to bring it about. It will be 1,000 little interactions that will bring us satisfaction, “joy” as Kohelet and Rabbi Sacks refer to it; and together, those small interactions will move the needle forward.

Don’t shrug, don’t look away. That is how we slowly lose good people. Imagine the actions we can take this year. Then go and do them.

[2] https://rabbisacks.org/archive/kohelet-radical-joy/?utm_source=chatgpt.com

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