Light in the Darkest Place: Finding Hope Amid Ruins of Nir Oz

 

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I stand in the burned ruins of the Siman-Tov family home in Kibbutz Nir Oz, 446 days after Tamar and Johny were murdered by Hamas terrorists. They were shot while trying to hold shut the door to their safe room — the same room where their three daughters, Shachar (6), Arbel (6), and Omer (4), were hiding. After killing Tamar and Johny, the terrorists set the home ablaze. The girls are believed to have died from smoke inhalation.

 

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This place — blackened, silent, and unspeakably tragic — stands as a symbol of the grief carried by Israelis and Jews everywhere. And yet, in the shattered window of this home, someone has placed a menorah. Tonight, the first night of Hanukkah, someone will come to light a candle here — a single flicker of light in the darkest place.

 

I am in Israel with CJP’s Spark: Solidarity mission, joining members of the Greater Boston Jewish community to stand with Israel, bear witness, and grapple with the enormity of this moment. It is the second Hanukkah since October 7 — the second since 1,200 were massacred, since over 100 remain hostages in Gaza, since trauma became part of our collective breath.

 

How do we celebrate Hanukkah amid such pain? How do we summon light from the ashes?

Later that day, our group joined young IDF soldiers — many just back from Gaza — to light the first candle. Their laughter and dancing broke the heaviness that had followed us from Nir Oz. They showed us that light is not the absence of darkness, but defiance within it.

 

The menorah in the Siman-Tov window is that defiance. It reminds us: do not wait for light — be the light. Even in the ruins, even when hope feels impossible, reach for it. Bring it forward.

 

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