Two Years Later: The Pain, the Promise, and the Power of ResiliencE
Today, October 7, 2025, marks the second anniversary of October 7, 2023, the single deadliest day for Jews since the Holocaust. Two years ago, Hamas terrorists massacred more than 1,200 innocent people in their homes, on their morning walks, at a music festival, and as they fled for their lives. Two hundred and fifty more were torn from their families and taken as hostages into the dark tunnels of Gaza, tunnels that, two years later, still hold men, women, and children who have not seen the light of day.
Two years.
Two years of waiting, praying, aching.
Two years of the world looking away.
The spirit of the Jewish people will not die. We are strong. We are resilient. We remember. But remembering means feeling the unbearable, the images we cannot unsee, the names we refuse to let fade, the faces of our brothers and sisters still in captivity. The pain of my people is my pain. The suffering of my people is my suffering.
And still, the world has too often stood by. Nations condemn Israel for defending itself, for fighting to bring its people home, for daring to confront a terrorist regime that thrives on death and despair. How can the world see this and do nothing? How can silence be the global response to evil?
Hate is rising. Hate is rising. It creeps into classrooms, boardrooms, and city streets. It seeps into the pores of people who think they are immune. And if we do not pay attention, it will smack us right in the face.
It is our duty, our sacred responsibility, as Jews to push back against hate. To fight for those who cannot fight for themselves. To remember that every human being deserves to live free, free to think, to feel, to be all that God created them to be.
Today, I am fighting for my people to see the sun again.
Today, I am fighting to stop the flames of antisemitism from spreading, not only through the Jewish community, but through all humanity. Because hate, left unchecked, never stops with the Jews.
I pray today that tomorrow the sun will shine and our hostages will be home.
I pray today that tomorrow I will wake to a gentler world.
When I look to Hadassah, the organization I proudly volunteer for, I see a vision of that world. At Hadassah’s hospitals in Jerusalem, patients and staff come from every background: Jewish, Muslim, Christian, Israeli, Palestinian, and more, and they work shoulder to shoulder. Doctors, nurses, and staff treat everyone with dignity, compassion, and unconditional care. Watching them heal together is proof that coexistence is not just possible, it is already happening. Medicine becomes a bridge to peace; care becomes a common language. If we can work together to save lives, we can learn to live together in peace.
This is the world I want to live in.
What kind of world do you want to live in?
In honor of our hostages: light a candle. Learn a name. Make a call. Give to healing. https://www.hadassah.org/donate
By: Stacey Dorenfeld