Starting Wednesday evening, April 23, Israel enters a stretch of time that is sacred, painful, and deeply reflective. It begins with Yom HaShoah—Holocaust Remembrance Day. For 24 hours, the nation stands still to remember the six million Jews who were murdered simply for being who they were. We remember their faces, their names, their stories. We carry the weight of their absence—and the responsibility of their legacy.
For me, this isn’t just history—it’s personal.
My grandmother emigrated from Poland to Israel before the Holocaust. But from her extended family in Europe, only four survived. Like so many Jewish families, we live with both the miracle of survival and the ache of what was lost.
Just days later, on the evening of Monday, April 29, we enter Yom HaZikaron—Israel’s Memorial Day for fallen soldiers and victims of terror. This day isn’t distant. It’s not symbolic. It’s deeply personal.
My parents, born here in Israel, grew up with the reality that freedom here comes at a cost. They dreamed that their children might grow up without war—but that wasn’t our story. I was born in 1973, and not long after, my mother carried me into a bomb shelter during the Yom Kippur War. That was only the beginning.
Since then, we’ve lived through countless operations, attacks, and wars. I served in the IDF. I lost friends. In 1995, a suicide bombing took the lives of soldiers I knew well—some of whom I’d just spoken to hours before. That pain never fully leaves. And over the years, I’ve had to say goodbye to more friends in uniform.
I carried the same hope for my children as my mother had for me. But they, too, have grown up under fire—raised with sirens, with memorial days that mean standing beside grieving families, with the knowledge that peace remains a dream more than a reality.
Then came October 7, 2023. A day that shattered us. A day when pure evil descended. We weren’t watching it on the news—we were living it. We knew people who were murdered. We knew people who were kidnapped.
And on November 9, our family joined the circle of the bereaved when my 21-year-old nephew Gilad was killed in action. Gilad—whose name means “eternal joy”—was just that. He had a way of lighting up every room. He lived in the moment. And that’s what I try to do now: live the moment. Be grateful. Because thanks, in part, to heroes like Gilad, we are still here.
And then, as it does every year, something uniquely Israeli happens.
As Memorial Day ends at sundown, our flags rise, and we begin Yom Ha’atzmaut—Independence Day. From grief to celebration. From sirens of mourning to fireworks of freedom. It’s a shift that feels impossible, and yet it's part of our national DNA. We carry pain in one hand and gratitude in the other.
This year, the contrast is more intense than ever. The war is still going. Hostages are still in captivity. Families are still shattered. Our nation is still bleeding. So how do we celebrate? How do we raise a flag when so many are still wrapped in sorrow?
We celebrate because we’re still here. Because despite everything, we’re not broken. We remember. We mourn. We give thanks. We live.
Our hope isn’t found in politics, in strength, or even in peace agreements. Our hope is rooted in something deeper, something eternal—the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob. The One who promises to turn mourning into dancing. The One who binds the brokenhearted and sets captives free.
I hold on to Psalm 30:11:
You have turned my mourning into dancing for me; You have untied my sackcloth and encircled me with joy.”
And I long for the day when Isaiah 65:19 becomes true in our lives—
There will no longer be heard in her the voice of weeping and the sound of crying.
We are not naïve. We know pain intimately. But we also know something greater: resilience.We will not stop hoping. We will not stop fighting for our inheritance. We will not leave.
This is our land. These are our people. This is our story.
From ashes to hope—we are here to stay.
Moran
Image credit: Shutterstock
7 Comments on “From Ashes to Hope: The Unbreakable Spirit of Israel”
Thank you Moran for your personal story.
It reminded me of those who have suffered
for generations & generations and have remained hopeful, faithful continuing to look forward to Elohim’s promises in Torah.
Prayers & Blessings,
Alice Hansen (Krawczynski)
Moran, our hearts are heavy for you, your family, all involved in HFI ministry and all of Israel. We thank God for you and God’s work through HFI. We have and will continue to lift you up in prayer daily.
Thank you Moran. That was very touching and beautifully spoken.
Thank you sharing your heart and insight on your hope.
Our prayers are with you!
A beautiful message.
I will never stop praying for all of Israel and her precious people.
Moran, this is a very well written article.
I was moved to tears for all that you, your family, and the country have gone through and continue to endure.
Thank God that He is with you always and forever, giving you hope through the fire.
Thank you for sharing your story and for helping us “outsiders” looking in to truly understand.
Israel uses her days of remembrance and the Lord’s appointed feasts in meaningful ways. Which is how it should be.
But this is not true for Americans and I’m sure many other countries, too. Our special holidays just get people carried away with their own desires.
I know Israelis like to argue, but when push comes to shove, may you stand united.
And may more turn to the one true God and His son, Yeshua.
Thank you for sharing more of your story, bits and pieces of which I picked up in various articles, but this gave more information.
Even though I am thousands of miles away, I carry a sense of heaviness for what is happening in Israel, for the people, the hostages, the families and friends of the hostages, the soldiers, the families of the soldiers … who hope for their loved ones’ safe return, yet also must live with the same fear that the families of the hostages live with – will they survive this ordeal? Will they come home alive?
Each morning, I change the number on the sign I have at the end of my driveway. The number is how many days the hostages have been held. No one who drives by can avoid seeing my sign:
59
hostages
DAY
582
I have seldom, if ever, been in the majority, but it is hard knowing that so many people are believing lies about Israel, Israelis, the IDF, and the promises of God to Israel. How so many people can be so blind is beyond me, and a heavy burden to bear.
Thank you for sharing.
How moving that you do this to remember the hostages! THANK YOU for taking a courageous stand for Israel and His truth! May you be abundantly blessed…