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Yizkor is always a moment of memory — but this year, memory felt different. Heavier. More raw.

Over the past 24 months, thousands of new Jewish families have joined our circle of grief. Since October 7, 2023, our people have faced unimaginable loss. Entire communities have been shattered. Families torn apart. And here at home, many of us too have faced personal loss: parents, spouses, siblings, children, friends.

The Torah tells us, Zachor, al tishkach — remember, do not forget. Memory in Judaism is not only about looking back; it’s about carrying forward. We remember their lives, but we also carry forward their gifts, their courage, and their light.

And what we have witnessed over these past 24 months is that in the darkest of times, the Jewish soul shines its brightest.

One story that touched many hearts was that of Rachel Goldberg-Polin, whose son Hersh was held captive in Gaza for almost a year. At his funeral in Jerusalem, Rachel stood before the coffin of her only son and said words that captured the strength of a mother’s faith:

“One thing I keep thinking about is how out of all the mothers in the world, G-d chose to give Hersh to me… For 23 years I was privileged to have this most stunning treasure, to be Hersh’s Mama. I’ll take it and say thank you. I just wish it had been for longer…

As we transform our hope into grief and this new unknown brand of pain, I beg of you, please do what you can to have your light shine down on me, Dada, Leebie and Orly. Help shower us with healing and resilience. Help us to rise again.”

Rachel’s words revealed a light that cannot be extinguished — gratitude and grace in the face of unspeakable loss.

Another is the story of Ariel Zohar, who at just 12 years old survived the Hamas attack on his home in Kibbutz Nachal Oz. His parents and two sisters were murdered, his home burned. When asked what he wanted from the ruins, Ariel replied: “My father’s tefillin.”

The tefillin were pulled from the ashes, along with a family photo album. When they were brought to Ariel’s 90-year-old grandfather — himself a Holocaust survivor — he said to his grandson, “When I was 14, my parents were murdered. I stood firm, and now I have a grandson in Israel. You too will stand firm and have grandchildren in the Land of Israel.”

Weeks later, at his bar mitzvah, Ariel stood tall, wearing those tefillin — broken yet unbroken, alone yet not alone.

These stories are not just theirs; they are ours. They remind us that from devastation can come resilience. From grief can come sweetness. From brokenness can come new beginnings.

That is the essence of Yom Kippur. The day strips back all layers and reveals who we truly are — not our mistakes or failings, but the pure light at the core of the Jewish soul.

And as we move from the solemnity of Yom Kippur to the joy of Simchat Torah, we are called to respond to darkness with light. Hamas chose Simchat Torah for their attack. They tried to extinguish our joy, our dance, our faith. But we will answer by dancing again.

In our grief, we remember. In our joy, we rise. Because Am Yisrael chooses life, chooses hope, and chooses light.

May the memories of our loved ones be a blessing, and may we, together, rise again.