Holding Hope in a Time of War
On Friday, February 27, just before Shabbat, Inbal called her family in Israel with a question that had become all too familiar: Are you prepared for every possible scenario?
They told her they had already been ready for weeks. In many ways, everyone felt that something was coming. And yet, as she would soon learn, nothing can truly prepare you for war.
Inbal is part of the Community Shlichim program, a partnership between The Jewish Federation of Greater Washington and The Jewish Agency for Israel (JAFI), which brings Israeli emissaries to our region to deepen connection and bring Israeli life and perspective into our community. Originally from a small town in northern Israel, Inbal now finds herself navigating the distance between two realities—supporting the Greater Washington community while her own family lives through the unfolding crisis at home.
Here is her story:
When Sirens Began
The night of February 27 on the East Coast, Saturday morning in Israel, I received a news alert: sirens were sounding across Israel. I immediately called my father, sensing that this might be the beginning of a war with Iran. He told me that he was already on his way to his military base to report for reserve duty.
My thoughts then turned to my grandfather, who goes to synagogue early every Shabbat morning. That day, we could not reach him. He only realized what had begun when he returned home from prayer. Our whole family was tense, worried a siren might go off while he was still outside and unprepared.
That was Shabbat morning in Israel.
Between Fear and Joy
The war began during the holiday of Purim. Purim is meant to be one of the happiest holidays, a time to dress up, celebrate, laugh, and be together, filled with joy and light. And yet, in Israel, the transition between sadness and joy is something we know all too well, and sometimes the distance between them is only a matter of hours. In a strange and almost ironic way, 2,500 years after the story of Purim, it can feel as though we are witnessing another Purim story unfolding, another moment in which the Jewish people are called upon to stand strong.
Holding Two Realities
Since that morning, I have spoken with my family almost every day. My grandfather continues to go to synagogue, still without taking his phone. When sirens sound, he says they simply continue praying, even though the stress is very real. He maintains his routine because, as he explained to me, staying at home for so long is not healthy, neither mentally nor physically.
Many of my family members and friends have also been called for reserve duty, some for the seventh time since October 7. They are exhausted, and yet they tell me that they understand the importance of this moment. They hold on to the hope that after this round, there will finally be a few years of quiet.
Meanwhile, being here in Washington as an Israeli shlicha during a time like this is deeply complex. On the one hand, I feel a strong responsibility to be present with the community, to continue showing up, and to create connection and meaning around what is happening. On the other hand, there is a constant feeling of distance, and with it, the fear of being disconnected from everything unfolding back home.
A Community to be Proud Of
Perhaps most unexpectedly, it is the young children in the community who help me the most in these moments. They bring me into their world of imagination, stories, and innocence, and for brief moments, they allow me to breathe.
Through this experience, I have come to understand that the message I bring here is my sense of responsibility. If the people in Israel can continue to demonstrate resilience, courage, and strength every single day, then I must carry and reflect that same resilience here as well. After all, the story of the Jewish people has always been one of resilience, of facing darkness and still choosing light.
With Hope for Spring
As the war enters its fifth week, we now find ourselves approaching Passover, the holiday of freedom and spring. Passover tells the story of leaving Egypt, of moving from slavery to freedom, and of becoming who we are meant to be. In this moment, I find myself hoping that this Passover will bring a sense of freedom for all of us—the freedom to live openly as who we are, proud of our Israeli and Jewish identities; to walk with our flag and our Star of David without fear; and to live without the routine of war, without constantly seeking the nearest shelter.
Passover also marks the arrival of spring, a season of renewal, when everything begins to grow again after the storms. There is something deeply powerful in that connection: just as strong trees withstand the storm, we see resilience, and like flowers that bloom in the fields, we see new beginnings. Perhaps that is the Jewish people’s story—to hold both, and to remember that if we want to see the rainbow, we must first be willing to stand in the rain.
Learn more about our Community Shlichim program.
