A Message from Rabbi Chen Ben-Or Tsfoni
Last night, on the eve of Memorial Day—a day that commemorates the loss of hundreds of thousands of soldiers and civilians—our sanctuary, our home of faith and values, opened its doors to the unbearable sorrow of lives lost, a sorrow no one should bear alone.
Our synagogue, a place that celebrates life and joy, community and hope, is also a sacred space for pain and mourning.
Last night, we gathered to remember—to open our hearts to grief and bereavement. Not only our own, but that of all whose lives are interwoven with the life of this land.
We never imagined that an act of solidarity would turn into a night of fear. That the windows of our synagogue would shake under violent assault—not from strangers, but from fellow Jews. That our congregants, trapped inside, would need protection from large police forces, fearing for their lives.
The scenes from last night echo dark chapters in our history, when Jews were attacked in their houses of prayer. But this time, the horror was compounded: the attackers were Jews themselves.
For far too long now, our days have been shadowed by darkness. Last night deepened that darkness. And this morning, Memorial Day for Israel’s fallen soldiers and victims of terror—our hearts are heavy with grief.
It is natural, after such a night, to feel anger or even hatred. But we must resist. We must not let hatred claim our hearts. If we give in to that darkness, our Judaism—built on compassion—will be defeated.
For a year and a half, we pray for the safe return of our brothers and sisters held in captivity. Now, in these moments when the heartbreak of Memorial Day begins to blend with the joy of Independence Day, the words of Ecclesiastes resonate within us:
“A time to weep and a time to laugh, a time to mourn and a time to dance.” (Ecclesiastes 3).
The path from sorrow to hope is not linear. Grief and healing, despair and faith—they coexist. Jewish tradition teaches us that we cry with the same eyes through which we laugh.
For a year and a half, we have lived in this tension—between despair and hope, between independence and its profound costs. And now, we must walk forward together, toward life, toward light.
Since last night, we have received an outpouring of support and love from communities across Israel and
around the world. We are not alone.
Our synagogue has become a symbol—of faith, of resilience, and of love for all humanity. Together, we will continue to pray for peace, for the release of our captives, and for the enduring strength of hope.
Rabbi Chen Ben Or Tsfoni
Senior Rabbi
Kehilat Raanan – Beit Samueli