When the bodies of Shiri Bibas and her young sons Ariel and Kfir, z”l, were returned to Israel as part of phase one of the ceasefire agreement, I was in Israel, visiting JTS students, and spending time with my daughter and her family in Mazkeret Batya and with my oldest grandson, who is studying for a year before university. Earlier in the week, we had gathered in packed coffeehouses, got stuck in traffic, and watched my granddaughter perform in a gymnastics competition. And yet, as Thursday approached, the pall that descended on the country was palpably heavy. Though many of us had sensed in our bones that Shiri, Ariel, and Kfir were dead, the sight of their coffins brought the finality of their deaths to the surface, releasing intense grief.   

In Israel—such a small country—personal and communal pain are inextricably bound. The Jewish people are so tiny in number that we often remark to one another that only two degrees separate us from our fellow Jews, not the proverbial six. Nowhere is this more evident than in the State of Israel.   

My grandson went to Hostage Square on Thursday night, where thousands gathered in solidarity. Their tears flowed freely and seemingly without end. Others gathered with friends and family to draw some measure of comfort by being together. I felt that power at a JTS alumni gathering. Being together, reminiscing about JTS, and meeting alumni from different........

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