For most of Israel’s history exhaustion was not an option.

The generation that founded the state drained swamps, built roads, fought wars, buried friends, welcomed refugees, and somehow still found the energy to imagine a future that did not yet exist.

But they were not consumed by exhaustion.

Because exhaustion was outweighed by something else: purpose.

Today, for the first time in a long time, I worry that Israelis are losing something far more dangerous than military deterrence, political unity, or international support.

I worry that we are losing our ability to dream.

Not because we lack ambition.

Not because we lack talent.

And certainly not because we lack courage.

I worry because we have become trapped in an endless present.

For nearly three years, Israelis have lived from crisis to crisis.

Political upheaval gave way to national trauma. National trauma gave way to war. War gave way to uncertainty. Uncertainty gave way to more war.

Every morning begins with alerts.

Every evening ends with analysis.

The names change. The headlines change. The battlefields change.

The emotional weight remains.

Somewhere in Gaza, hostages remain in captivity.

Somewhere in Lebanon, soldiers remain on deployment.

Somewhere in Israel, a family is setting an extra place at the table for someone who may never return.

The war has entered our homes, our conversations, our marriages, our businesses, our schools, and our minds.

Even those who have not worn a uniform during this war have carried it.

Business owners carry it.

University students carry it.

The burden is everywhere.

And beneath the debates about military strategy, ceasefires, politics, elections, judicial reform, diplomacy, and security lies a quieter reality:

Not the exhaustion of weakness.

The exhaustion of carrying too much for too long.

There is a difference.

Weakness breaks a society.

Exhaustion slowly narrows it.

A tired person stops........

© The Times of Israel (Blogs)